Archons Novels & Stories

Jemma occupied the oversized chair in the far center. Nine councilors, called Archons made up of scholars, occupied the meeting chairs on either side of Jemma. Haris grumbled in his mind. He knew all nine councilors: Joe Flack of the Vampire clan, Thea the Sphinx, Gamo the Eastern Dragon, Doki of the Goblin clan, Mora the Night Witch, Jaquelinn the Ghost, Karina of the Fairy clan, Eramus the Incubus, Phoenix. They had faithfully helped Jemma take care of Baskerville by running Athena's policy. as a way of escaping punishment. By acting, his wisdom is needed.

They were death among life. Sunken eyes, rotting flesh, armor made of dragon hide. Death didn’t hide the fact they were generals. High-ranking ones from wars long gone. She understood, or at least guessed, at how they got the name. It was nightmarish to behold. Shivers shook her frame, dotting her flesh with goosebumps. Their mere presence triggered images of dark deeds, inflicting paralyzing fear. Evrah shook herself free of it, but she didn’t know how long she had been frozen in place. She dropped to her knees, checking the scene before she made her move.

- a hoarse voice says behind me. When I turned around, I saw a huge gray and black wolf that seemed to glow. His eyes were stark white as if he were blind, but he looked me in the eye intently. - Who are you? Where am I? - I asked him. - I have many names, but you can call me Vánagandr. Before the Moon Goddess created the Werewolves, she created the Lycons, and before the Lycans there were only wolves. I am the father of all wolves. As for why you're here, you are between life and death in the great garden that will take you back to life or to the realm of the dead.

We said goodbye and I headed to the address Nick had texted me. As I walked into the shop a friendly gentleman greeted me. “Miss Clarke, Mr. Thorn said to expect you.” “He did,” I sounded surprised. “I have the bottles ready for you.” We walked over to the counter, and he showed me the bottles. First was Chateau Montelena chardonnay and the second was a bottle of Macallan 18-year-old double cask whiskey. I nodded, not having a clue. I watched as he boxed the bottles up and placed a gift ribbon around each of them.

Marcus and Jax, leading the vanguard of the Ghost Army, stood before the final obstacle. The Gates of the Archangels. They were massive, towering doors made of solid, blazing white light, guarded by two Archangels—the ultimate raid bosses of the Sanctum. They were terrifying, eight-winged entities wielding weapons of pure deletion code. "We are at the Core doors, Wraith!" Marcus bellowed over the dual-reality comms, his voice tight with exhaustion. "We cannot breach! The Archangels are immune to physical and magical damage! They have a specialized mechanic!"

"But they’re being harvested. The Legion isn't attacking their bodies; they're attacking their connections to the world. They’re turning the wolves into anchors for the void." Suddenly, the ground at the center of the valley heaved. It didn't burst open; it folded back like skin. From the fissure rose a figure that made the High Magister look like a mere apprentice. It was a skeletal giant, its "skin" a patchwork of ancient, yellowed scrolls and human vellum, held together by needles of obsidian. This was the **Archivist of Bone**, a creature from the era before the first Great Pack was ever formed. In its hand, it carried a staff topped with a skull that pulsed with a rhythmic, sickly green

He stretch forth his hand to give Chinny a polite handshake, Chinny reciprocated. “ Bonjour” she greeted him. “Black Jack (referring to Chinny), I’d like you to meet a man who’s vital for Armageddon. " This is the Fisheye.” Rachael Roux introduced. “ pleasure to meet you” the Fisheye said with his strangely familiar crispy deep voice. He still had that shadow of the African tongue in his accent. She knew that voice, but she couldn’t quickly pick out the face because of the face cap and spectacles.

★★★★ Marcellus enjoyed his little night rest as he batted out and hanged from the ceiling; yes that habit was something he'd deemed as uncivilized and un evolved but old habits die hard and was essential every once in a while. Not until every pore and fiber in his body rattled at the presence of something. He climbed down down, took his human form, feeling the hairs on his body stand with caution. His eyes hurriedly shifted colors and with a snarl his fangs surfaced. "Whatever you are, you better bloody show yourself now!" He ordered. Tuning into his keen sense of perception it wasn't long before whatever had been the cause of the unruly disturbance emerged. It—or better still 'they' appeare

I commented, glancing around to see Melite’s honey locks were just as bad and Andomache’s curls had escaped the braid and seemed to have doubled in size. Demoleon looked around and started to laugh. “Oh wow, he’s right. You girls look like Medusa! Especially you, Andromache.” he laughed. “Rude.” Andromache snorted, shoving her cousin as she got up. “It'll be fine. We can brush our hair. We should also all take baths.” Melite shrugged, using her hands to try and force her hair into place.

“So, she is part demon? One of Dante’s sprogs that slipped through the net?” “No,” Lucas leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees as a weary sigh escaped him. “Atlas and Amos don’t have wolf spirits remember? Chloe does; Hecate.” “Hecate? What kind of name is that?” “It’s the name of a Greek goddess. As far as we can tell, only the Wolfe line has a wolven spirit with a Greek name. Even Sierra and Alvaro don’t have them. So, how come she has one?” Lucas raised an eyebrow, hazel eyes darkening as the questions piled up. “I think we need to make a call.”