Black Shuck Mythology Novels & Stories

Refusing to be discouraged by his silence, Halrem took another slow step toward the table, her attention never leaving either the broken fang or the man standing beside it. The fang had been broken away with enormous force, and near its root an unfamiliar symbol had been carved into its black surface. It was not language but something older, a mark of recognition that stirred faint memories from forgotten physician manuscripts describing northern folklore, forest rites, impossible beasts, and predatory gods that existed long before kingdoms. Her eyes lifted sharply. “The beast,” she whispered. “The shaman wasn’t speaking metaphorically.” For the first time since she entered, Draevor moved. S

In front of him, thousands of meters away, a cold aura kept covering him with a great evil spirit. "Black Sea! Here we are!" Dewey Hobbs said in a low voice in order not to become serious. "Black Sea?" Zephyr Khan was quite unfamiliar with this name. However, it was clear that quite a few people knew about the Black Sea. A solemn atmosphere shrouded the disciples, and many of them looked serious and timid. "Senior Brother..." Glancing at Vert Murray, Zephyr Khan said via holy sense communication. Obviously, Vert Murray understood the thoughts. With a trace of god ray in his eyes, he said slowly,

She placed her head into his black fur. They went plunging into the empty dark hole of the waterfall's cliff. "King Austin!" shouted Grump. "What happened?" asked Prince Brayden, waking up from his passing out. "They fell into to the Black Water." "What? What does that mean?" "It's a death place. A place where no one have ever escape from before.” “What?” “Legend says once fallen, no one can ever get out." King Leonardo gasped in shocked and fear. He didn't know such a place existed before. This is the first time he have ever heard of it.

I turned my back to leave, and as I disappeared into the darkness, I turned my back to look at her the final time, before heading towards the black river. "Moon goddess, be with me in this quest." I mumbled these words of prayer in tears. My journey towards the black river was accompanied by fear and death. I've heard ancient myths about some of my kinds, who embarked on this journey, and never made it across the bridge. While the bodies of some were brutally dismembered, the rest weren't seen till this day. There was also a myth about how the spirit that guided that river. It could be dated back to the time of my ancestors, that spirit was rejected after the Alpha got her pregnant. Since it

It wasn’t the smooth silver mirror described in stories, nor the playful tides painted on childhood murals. It was vast and hungry, its waves were blackened by storm-winds and haunted with the breath of ghosts. They reached the coastline in three days, riding under the banner of the Accord, but even that sacred emblem did little to calm the villagers that greeted them. “Stay off the eastern shoals,” a toothless old woman warned as they secured the boats. “That sea remembers the old ones. It remembers who bled into it.”

“Are you going to let her out?” Savage was standing at the bow staring across the Peril Sea knowing they’d soon be traversing into the Sea of Souls. A bleak, dark water where it was not unusual to find bodies floating. The corpses of those forlorn people who’d been cast or cast themselves from the Sourthern Vale Scarps. Savage's profile was as still and unreadable as always. “No.” “Whyever not?” RedBayne’s voice rose, and he waved his arms in agitation. “I’ve had many a slave and never was I so cruel to any of them as ye’re being to tha’ lass!”

Chapter 21 As the fated mates took their first step towards the unknown, a distant rumble echoed through the air. The ground beneath them trembled, sending shockwaves of uncertainty through their beings. A tempest brewed on the horizon, dark clouds swirling in a sinister dance. Their eyes widened in alarm as a figure emerged from the storm, a figure they had never anticipated. It was a being of ancient power and malevolence, a harbinger of chaos and despair. The realm gasped in collective disbelief, for the figure was none other than Malachi himself, risen from the depths of oblivion.

"In my arrogance, I invited our demise. I must bear this burden and seek a way to break the curse that plagues us." With newfound humility, Blackwood dedicated his life to finding a solution. He ventured far and wide, seeking the counsel of ancient creatures and wise elders who possessed knowledge of the mystical arts. Each step brought him closer to understanding the true nature of the curse and the price he must pay to lift its hold on his pack.

From the black mire, things began to climb. Not wolves. Not beasts we knew. Things born in the crushing dark before the sun ever rose — colossal, scaled, circular jaws lined with rows of shark teeth, blind writhing tentacles sprouting from their ridged backs. They were the Spawn of the Black Tide — the hounds of the Forgotten Gods. Sensing my aura, they howled in unison — a scream of a thousand drowning voices — and my warhorses reared in terror. “FOR THE NEST! FOR THE EMPIRE!” I bellowed — and let the silver take me.

I’ll even help you deal with any of them. “And how would I know you won’t back stab me?” “The same way I know you won’t. It’s not your reputation. Look up Black Dogs. You know of them?” “Order of mercenaries.” “Bingo,” the man said. “Asked them about Vanargand.” “I see.” “You heard of the name?” “It’s another name for Fenrir, monster-wolf of Norse mythology.” “I thought using Fenrir could be copyright infringement, or just piss the guy off.” “That would be unwise.”