Ariana Dumbledore Portrait Novels & Stories

Rather than becoming the Alpha’s daughter and enjoying a life of luxury, she cared far more about her missing mate. Just as Edward had said, the Dark Eclipse pack was vast, perhaps her mate was somewhere within it. As long as she stayed, there was a chance she would find him again. In a luxurious and exquisitely decorated room within the packhouse, Luna Julia leaned against a long velvet-upholstered couch. Her long hair cascaded over her slender shoulders, and a headpiece adorned with fiery red gemstones stood out against her golden locks, accentuating her sharp and beautiful features. Beneath the couch, two servants knelt trembling in fear. At their feet lay a tall, gold-plated goblet, its

A swirling white brand, faint but glowing just like Azaria’s did the first time her magic awoke. I gripped her wrist gently. “Where did this come from?” “I… I don’t know. It just… happened.” Aiden stepped forward. “She’s changing.” “No,” I whispered. “She’s connecting. Your magic is resonating with hers.” “She’s calling for help,” Ariana said. “And I think… she reached for me.” --- We left the archives in silence. I locked the chamber behind us and swore them both to secrecy. They nodded, solemn and shaken.

I followed Nyari down the strange path and suddenly, I began to see portraits of strange people. "That was blood magic you used there, wasn't it?" "It was," she replied flatly. "But you are a healer, Nyari," I pointed out, "do you care to explain more?" My eyes widened when I saw a particular portrait. I remembered her face from the portal, I could never mistake it. It was the witch, Andralita!

I was halfway down the grand staircase, heading toward the scent of fresh coffee and toasted bread, when I saw her. She was standing by a massive, abstract painting in the hallway, her arms crossed over her chest. She looked like a younger, feminine version of Ronan. The same sharp, aristocratic jawline. The same dark, piercing eyes that seemed to look right through you. She couldn't have been more than sixteen or seventeen, dressed in an oversized black hoodie and expensive leggings, her dark hair pulled into a messy, effortless bun. My brows lifted slightly in recognition. This had to be Aria. Ronan’s daughter.

Dorin nodded at them and proceeded to the middle of the examination room. There were no windows in the room. There were 4 people seated at the long table at the far end; 2 women, a man, and a person in a cloak. There were metal plates in front of them, telling their name and position. The first from the left was a Professor Belladona Dimitrio, head of Magic Flora Studies. She was old with long purple hair and looked at Dorin with interest. Next to her was the another woman, this one looking about in her late teens. Professor Kylyne Rose Raevers was written in front of her, under which says Head of Charms. Beside her was possibly the only male in the group, Professor Randale Morell, head of A

"I've already prepared the ritual circles. Hidden beneath the platforms where everyone will stand. They won't see them until it's too late." A knock on her door interrupted her. "Come in," she called. Hardy Armstrong entered, looking older than usual. "Luna, I need to speak with you about the memorial arrangements." "Of course, Elder. What concerns you?" Hardy closed the door carefully. "I found something in the archives. A portrait. Very old." Arlene's smile didn't waver. "Oh?" "It shows a young girl. Eight years old. Standing beside the Witch Queen during the purge." Hardy pulled out the portrait. The same one Lyanna had shown Cassian and Jasmina. "The girl's name was Morgana Blackthorne."

The thought resounded like an alarm bell in her mind. “We were just coming to see you.” The dark-eyed woman grinned, the mahogany of her skin seemed to shine in the light that pooled into the corridor, as she motioned towards Elaine. “This is the young lady I was telling you about,” Headmistress Temple’s eyes bright, “One of our most promising students.”

Suddenly her brother's body turned green and went up in flames. "No," she cried in a voice mixed with sadness and relief."What's happening?" "Who is she" Vador asked staring at the little damsel.She was beautiful,he thought,her eyes were green and her hair red . She was dressed in a short red gown that made her look like a real damsel. "She must be the daughter of Francis,the council's secretary," Aleister replied. "And who are you," Ava spat. "Let's just say your worst nightmare. I'm the dark lord"