Alphabet Lore Faceless Novels & Stories

“You thought the bloodline was gone. But it was only buried.” Everyone turned toward the voice. Kael stepped in front of Aria, protectively, but she gently pushed him aside. Her eyes burned with silvery light. “Who are you?” she demanded. The mist parted and from it emerged a tall figure draped in a cloak darker than night. His face was hidden beneath a bone-carved mask etched with runes. But Aria felt the truth before he even spoke. “I am the First Alpha,” the figure said, voice calm and thunderous. “And you, Marked Luna, are the final key.”

The sky burned with the blood-red hue of a coming war. Luna stood on the cliff’s edge, the wind tangling through her silver-streaked hair, her gown billowing around her like smoke from a wildfire. Below her, the valley groaned with the restlessness of warriors preparing for what would be the final clash of bloodlines. The Trial of Flesh and Fire had left Kael marked in ways only she could understand. His back bore the emblem of the ancients now, the mark of the true Alpha. But it was her soul that was aflame.

"Hold on a second... how come you are well aware of what is going on down there?" "I need to get your name first before I tell you that," he said, smirking at me. "My name is Lorenzo and I am the strongest Alpha here." "My name is Atlas, a former Alpha who was kicked out of my pack because I could not control my damn power. That is why the Moon Goddess ordered me to be cast out. Then my loyal followers followed me and they became my extended family." "I see... I know it's so damn hard to believe but I am well aware of that simply because this is my territory and I can effortlessly recognize everyone scent- including Rhea."

“You’ll unravel everything.” “That is precisely the point,” the stranger replied. Their amber eyes softened slightly as they looked at me. “My name,” they said, “is Alaric.” The name hit like distant thunder. I had heard it once before. Spoken in hushed tones in the oldest pack records. Alaric Thorn. The first male heir born to the Shadowfang bloodline in centuries. The one who vanished after the Blood Eclipse. The one my grandmother had erased from every story. “You’re her…” My voice faltered.

The air smelled of dust and old paper. “So, I did a bit of digging using the names you provided. It was hard, but I remembered reading a bit about him years ago,” she said, sliding a picture toward me. It was a drawing in a slightly cartoonish, old-fashioned font, but the distinguishing features were unmistakable. The dark blonde hair, the piercing green eyes. “Let me introduce you to King Alaric Anjou the Third. The King of all humans, werewolves, and magical creatures alike.”

“Daughter of Selene Hart. Bearer of the First Wolf’s mark.” I hear the pack shudder behind us. Caleb bares his teeth. “Don’t say her name.” The Alpha dips his head, polite. “Then forgive me. I’m Alaric Stormborne.” Stormborne. The name slams into me—like a memory I never had. Alaric keeps going, calm as ever. “Your power stirred up the old forces. Every pack felt it. Even the land answered back.” Rafe scoffs. “Save the poetry. She’s a problem. Problems get dealt with or destroyed.”

Someone wearing the robes of the First Alpha's council. The man leaned toward Arven and whispered something. Arven looked at him. Then smiled. The vision froze. I stared at the man's face. I knew him. Not personally. But his features had appeared in the ancient records. The same face had been carved into the walls of the old fortress. The same family name appeared in the royal archives. My breathing stopped. “Nikolai.” He looked at me. “You know him?” “Yes.” The ancient being's voice echoed around us.

Bringing her back to this moment as the event with JK and his warning just pass to her mind, she is in a stance to fight and defend, asking again. “I said, who are you?” With the chimera’s image of a half-dragon, it smiles towards her as it presents in front of her the neon illuminated cards of seven as it slowly and one by one faces front towards her reading the arcana’s names. “The fool, the magician, the high priestess, the hierophant, the chariot, strength, the hermit. You are the fool, Alliah.” Ending her statement with the tick of warning towards her name, she is somewhat taken breathless as the familiar cards signs a warning and even more unto her.

Arlo approaches me from behind and says, "You are definitely a Luna..." I turn around and say, "What makes you say that?" "Only a Luna of a pack has that much compassion for someone that they don't know... If I didn't know that you were Alpha Zachariah's mate I would say you could even be royalty..."

Bullshit. Alaric’s wolf growled inside him. Ronan’s real lovers could barely walk after a night with him. They came out trembling, marked, raw, half-broken. And yet Liora stood there perfectly fine, hair neat, clothes flawless. Not even a scratch. Still, her act was convincing enough to make him hesitate. Maybe she’s just stronger than the others, his wolf muttered. Or maybe she’s the crazy kind who enjoys the pain. Alaric sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Fine,” he said coldly. “Then you won’t mind accepting this.” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a blank cheque...Ronan’s signature already scrawled at the bottom.