Alphabet Lore Villains Novels & Stories

“Alaric Vortemont. The vampire. He’s the one with those molten-silver eyes, always looking like he can peer into your very soul and tear it apart. He’s heir to one of the oldest vampire bloodlines in the world.” Mina jumped in, her tone smooth yet serious. “Then there’s Kade Thorne, the brooding werewolf. Tall, dark-haired, forever shoving his hands in his pockets like the universe has offended him. He’s Alpha-born, dangerously quiet, a real liability if you annoy him, especially on a full moon.” Caleb smirked, thrilled to add his piece. “And let’s not forget Damien Drakaris, the dragon. With his golden eyes and a sharp smile, it’s like he’s always plotting how to set the world ablaze. His f

Alaric & Lyra: The Strategist Turned Storyteller Alaric, ever the meticulous planner, the strategist who could foresee countless contingencies, had become delightfully, utterly obsessed with making her laugh. His meticulous nature had simply shifted its focus. He read her books far beyond her comprehension—ancient histories filled with epic battles and forgotten empires, intricate legends of gods and monsters, even dry, complex war strategies that made my head spin. But he’d do the voices. And gods help any unsuspecting guard or pack member who passed by the open door of his study and heard Alpha Alaric Blackthorn, the stoic leader of the Triplet Pack, speaking in a squeaky, high-pitched dra

“Wait,” King Cain said, gazing at Alaric. “Who are you? How do you know all this?” “I am Alaric, leader of the Nightshade coven.” Alaric replied. King Cain and Queen Lillian paled for that was enough for them to understand. Alaric was a witch!

I sprayed so much perfume around before I opened the door that I doubt she could even make out mine in there. "Uh huh, apparently Alpha Eligor is furious. He's punishing the night patrol by making them figure out how the Rogues got past them before they're allowed to end their shift. Even if it takes days or weeks, they're not allowed to leave until they know." Ana carries on excitedly. "He says they're lucky Abaddon was out with a girl for most of the night, if he'd been in a deep sleep when the rogues got there, he may have been killed."

Tobren said. “No,” Arlo spat, “but I know exactly what you smell like—witch-tainted.” Tobren snarled. “I’m a Vale. My wolf comes from bloodlines cursed and reborn. I was raised in shadow to rule. And she—” he pointed at me “she is the key.” Arlo’s jaw flexed. “Key to what? You’re not touching her.” “She’s not yours! She's only yours when I'm rejected, or dead,"

With one hit, she slashes the vines, exposing a wide hole that leads into the unknown. We use a steady and long vine as our rope. When we reach the bottom, General Li lights up a torch. It is dark. It reeks of dead animals, blended with the smell of earth soil. I trail behind General Li, who seems to wander around in circles. Don't tell me we are wandering through a maze?

"I don't believe that. I can fix it. I can break it. There has to be a way." "There is," Orion said. "But not by hiding in the woods. Not by hoping visions and blood magic will save you." He reached into the satchel slung across his back and pulled out a small, battered leather book. He held it out to her. She hesitated, then took it. The cover was worn, the pages stained with old ink and ash. Her breath caught when she opened it. It was written in Old Vale script the language of her bloodline. Most of it was indecipherable, the ink faded, but one phrase had been circled in red:

"The rose is wilting under the poison of it's bite" Oh goody riddles. "The serpent holds a duality, good and evil, Feared and reveared, life and death, Lust and disgust, love and hate. Two paths, Two fates" Arlo pulls out his phone "I mean, we could of just googled that" I nod to Dante, he does his thing. Smacking Arlo. The oracle points to Thorne "You chose the path of poison, infecting those you strike" Preach, lady!

He drew his sidearm, pulling Lorrie behind him as dark shapes emerged from the foggy tree line. Hundreds of syndicate mercenaries dressed in sleek, midnight-black armor stepped into the clearing. On their tactical vests burned a familiar crest: the double-headed dragon of the Dimitri bloodline. "Dimitri soldiers?" Lorrie whispered, frowning. "Lorenzo, are these your men?" "No," Lorenzo said darkly, sweeping his weapon across the advancing line. "My men don't wear shadow-infused body armor. These are the Vanguard of the Old Council." The lead mercenary stepped forward, raising a heavily modified assault rifle. "Hand over the Heir, King Lorenzo. By order of the ancient blood pact, the child be

Holograms hovered above the surface: shipping manifests, DNA sequences, encrypted ledger entries stamped with sigils I hadn't seen since I was a boy studying forbidden histories. A serpent devouring its own tail. The Ouroboros Council. "They're real," Mara said quietly. Too quietly. Her fingers trembled as she zoomed in on one line. "Not myth. Not bedtime stories to scare pups. The old bloodlines—Romanoff, Draven, Valois, Blackwood—they all answered to it once. Hanlon was just a knight. Voss a bishop. There's a king still playing." I felt my wolf rise so violently the bulb overhead shattered in a spray of sparks. Darkness swallowed us for a heartbeat before the backup lamps kicked in, blood-