Alder Wand Novels & Stories

There were twenty-six of them, each one engraved with an intricate, beautiful letter of the alphabet. I slid out of bed, ignoring Zander’s protest, and walked over to the crate. I picked up the letter ‘A.’ The wood was dark, heavy, and had a very specific, smoky aroma. “This isn’t just pine,” I whispered, my thumb tracing the grain. “It’s Alpine Cedar. From the high ridges.” “How do you know that?” Zander asked, his eyes narrowing.

Alder looked around the house where he was invited to come in. He saw a grand living room with plenty of seating areas and tall ceiling above. There is a warm glow of light from the antler chandelier above and only if it is morning right now, then there will be lot of lights coming from the large glass windows to the left.

Fuming in grudge and anger. In the borders, where no one is around and darkness shrouds all corners, Alder is sitting on the rock and looking at the red moon borders. He was hoping to see Sirena. Wants to talk to her and beg her to come back to him. But he also knows that she’s not going to come back to him. He knew about Xander, he wouldn’t let go of Sirena. They have a past, even he himself has seen them together.

We growled and tried to shake him off but he pushed us down with his front paws and had one paw on our shoulder, with the other on our snout, preventing us to snap at him. He growled again and clamped down more, I felt the blood ooze out of our neck, and feel the pressure from all his sharp teeth. We growled again,but he clamped down again to the point if he goes any further, or if we move, he can end our life. My wolf whimpered mixed with a growled, but Alcanders wolf growled again giving us our final warning. I'm sorry. She whispered and whined and laid limp, letting him know we summit.

Alder's POV My name is Alder Volcik, and I am the Lycan King. I am 187 years old and have held the title of king for over 150 years. Lycans are widely recognized as the most powerful species. We aim to safeguard the werewolves and uphold equilibrium among all supernatural species. We remain immortal unless our heads are severed, and our hearts are simultaneously removed. We have the ability to heal faster than werewolves, both in terms of physical wounds and speed. Additionally, a regular lycan is capable of defeating an alpha.

He had a warm smile on his face as he approached me with a bottle of water in his hands. “I am fine Aldean, I just feel a little bit spent.” Aldean frowned at me and I could tell he was not buying it. Aldean was a wizard, one of the few in the witch clan and he possessed great magic. I had met him earlier in the morning on the training grounds and he was kind enough to give me tips on how to use my magic well. He was a kind man and I felt comfortable around him. “You can not fool me Claire, you are sweating buckets.” He said, tilting his head to the side, causing his golden shoulder length hair to sway to his side.

Alcazar suggested. "Alright," Both Enzo and Adolf agreed. Just like planned, slowly and almost soundlessly, Alcazar sneaked up from behind Wanda, who was busy casting spells to wake the dolls. Alcazar pulled out mushroom powder from his pocket and dumped it on Wanda. But he froze with his hand halfway inside his pocket. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't move. That's when he realized that Wanda knew that he was there. But she pretended not to know with the intention of luring them out of hiding.

She looked around making sure no one saw her as she entered Alden’s room. Alden was lying down on his bed motionless, Adria gazed at him for a moment—she had to do this successfully to keep the spell working or else Dana would be brought back and her mission to control the pack would go away forever, she thought. She took a deep breath as she reached into her cloak bringing out what the witch had given to her, a small root tied with strings. The witch's instruction was clear —use the root to round over his head in a circle, mention the incantation and the magic works.

My shoulders tense as the door to the carriage opens. King Alden steps out first, a picture of courtly poise. Tall and broad-shouldered, his brown hair catches the copper shades from his simple crown and becomes almost red. Quickly behind him, though, is Xander. He carries himself with the same confidence as his father, but those big, broad-shouldered traits must skip a generation. Xander looks more like a wolf who hasn’t quite grown into his paws yet—reedy, or maybe lanky is a better word. Not that he lets that keep him from looking the castle up and down like it’s his.