Black Witch Chronicles Novels & Stories

She stopped, threw the gun on Gerret and hugged me. -----Aftermath.. Thinking, happy ending right?. Correct. I apologized to Noami even though I didn't remember but she makes a good sis, don't you think so?. Another shocking news..My biological mother, Elysia happened to be a best friend to Ann. The black witches and the white witches became one but the blacks were still placed with a curse. It didn't matter as long as they drink animal blood during their festival rather than human blood. Sirens?. They finally went home and they are forever free, no hunters and no blood shedding.

" In this book, it says that you would cause a great change by trying to convince the wolves to join our Union. You would be the cause of the rise of the dark witches... " " No! That can't happen! " I shook my head in disagreement. That means doom. " What do you mean by dark witches? " She read my expression, giving me a questioning look. " The black witches are quite powerful, they are the only set of witches that prays for the downfall of their own kind, cunning and crafty. They hypnotize the wolves to do their bidding, killing them afterwards. They were eliminated years ago by my father, if they are truly going to come back to existence... that's really bad news. " I said in a trembling v

The spells she learnt across different supernatural heritages we're wearing out on her. She was slowly turning into a black witch. She bit her lips and felt the pains from the bites she received the other night. She remembered the stranger with the crimson gaze. Would her grandmother kill him too if she found the wound on her lips. She was becoming formidable more than before, she killed anyone who crossed her path more often now than before. Her reasons were unknown but the urgency at which she carried them out scared Nova. She couldn't tell whether the stranger would be killed too if her grandmother found out and she didn't want it to happen either. Atleast till after he showed her the sec

She stepped out into the snow, Shadow rising, burning gold in her eyes, the illusions twisting, hissing, trying to crawl inside her mind. She roared. A wave of darkness burst from her, slamming into the illusions. The false monsters screamed as they disintegrated into smoke, leaving only the cold and the moonlight. But the witches were not done. From the treeline, a figure stepped forward, robes pitch black, hands lifted as a black mist curled around her fingers. “Alpha,” she hissed, voice echoing. Raven lifted her blade. “You don’t belong here.” The witch laughed, eyes like shattered glass, mist slithering toward Raven.

Synopsis At age 10, Tara Shin watched as her Alpha father was brutally murdered by Lorez Blackclaw and what was left of the Shin clan fell under his ruthless rule. A decade later, Tara is treated just as terribly as back then, a slave to Lorez’s cronies and a whispered freak to the Blackclaw clan. With nowhere to go, she must undertake the blood moon’s ritual for wolves aging into 21. The goddess demands it as does Lorez Blackclaw. However when it all goes wrong, what will Tara do? Run away toward the feared monsters lurking in the dark wood or stay with the devil she knows?

His veins turned black, pulsing with raw power, his body rigid as it absorbed the souls of the fallen wolves. For a moment, it seemed to be working. The forest trembled, the earth itself responding to the power being released. But as the energy reached its peak, and the witch moved to pour Bella’s blood into the circle, something changed. The blood in the jar began to darken, its crimson shade turning black as ink. The glow in the runes flickered violently, and the witches broke their chant. “What’s happening?!” Sue shouted, spinning toward the lead witch. The jar cracked suddenly, and a burst of black smoke erupted from it. The blood inside hissed as though alive, and tendrils of darkness s

Ty che, blyad? When I blink open my eyes, I can see two people a male and a female standing there. The female smirks at us. Out of the corner of my eyes, I watch Zion and Alpha Zac flanking me against the female, who appears to be the black witch. She's dressed in a black robe but her skin is pale, almost ghostly. Her black nails stand in an extreme contrast against her pale skin. Even her eyes are black with a sharp nose and sharp facial features. Her ghostly black hair is flowing around her black robe and her white teeth flash as she smirks at us standing opposite to her.

The black type of witch is a race, while the change of blood color – purple to black – is a consequence and a curse that cannot be broken forever. I closed our main gate and went back to my bedroom to get my big black backpack. While Jennifer is not home, I decided to go for a hike on Mt. Labo to collect special ingredients or different kinds of herbs and flowers that can only be found in remote mountains. I’m going to use it for the products of my company. I opened our gate once again, headed straight to my McLaren F1 and drove it out of my garage. Then I got out of my car again and closed the gate again.

How I long for death myself, to give it my own life but that is not enough, it wants the suffering and wants me to blacken my soul. The old hag of a witch can give some guidance but I must seek more. She will help but not endanger herself. I must find one who can either draw the beast from hiding or one with a soul that is neither white nor black. One who can dance with the Devil and not fall before him and yet still have the light of the divine. I will journey on. I only know that dreams will be some sort of guide. The dark rider was amongst the foliage of holly and ivy and plants that do not grow on English lands. So, I know that foreign lands are where I need to be.

“Name yourself.” The woman smiles, amused. “I am Maris Blackriver.” Gasps. Maya chokes. Even Lydia flinches. Because Maris Blackriver isn’t just a rogue. She’s legend. A shaman-wolf, from a line thought wiped out. Witch of the wild. Hunter of corrupted alphas. She survived without a pack—unheard of, impossible, terrifying. And she’s standing here. For me. Her gaze pins me—direct, burning, knowing.