Novel & Cerita Black Witch Chronicles

She leapt at the old witch’s chest, her claws slicing through the brittle fabric of time and skin, her claws sinking into the exact spot where the pulsing energy resided. The witch screamed, a sound so ancient and agonizing it echoed in my bones, and then it was in my wolf’s claws. The Heartstone. A raw, pulsing orb of dark crimson energy, still slick with blood and glowing with something that felt too sentient, too wrong. And then, all hell broke loose. The witches that had stood silently in the shadows until now, watching, waiting, rose in synchronized fury. That green glow in their arms? It wasn’t just energy. It was fire. Ancient fire. Cursed fire. Fire that melted flesh and bone in seco

Humans might not possess magic, but they don’t carry a curse either. What is Princess Avalea doing here? Most Venusian Witches wouldn’t even be caught dead in this hut. At that, my heart skips several beats. What if she is dead? My hands and feet go cold as I inch forward until I’m touching the edge of the pallet. I bend over close to her face to check if she’s breathing. And that’s when she turns around and opens her eyes. Her eyes, the color of spun gold, are wide and filled with terror. Her mouth opens into a silent scream as she scoots away from me until her back hits the wall.

She was a legend people either feared or pretended not to know. And Blackwood had witches. Hybrid, lunatic, chicken-blooded witches who could sniff secrets out of bones and dreams. “Vivienne Moreau,” he called, voice sharper now, and deliberate. “Open the damn door.” Yep. That was it. Funeral bells. End credits. Roll the fucking montage. I can see my family calling me to join them in hell. “Damn you, Atlas Blackwood,” I muttered under my breath, pacing once, twice, then stopping dead.

“The Dominion wants to use that power to awaken the heart of the Black Moon. If they succeed, every bond in our world—wolf, Lycan, witch—will break.” Kaelira frowned. “Break how?” “Completely. The moon’s tether will dissolve. No more shifts. No more control. Just instinct and hunger.” She swallowed. “You’re saying they’d destroy their own kind?” “To rule what’s left,” he said softly. “Dominion logic.” Kaelira turned back to the ruins. “Then we find them before they find me.” Zevran inclined his head. “There’s one who might know where the witches hid their sanctum. A name I hoped never to speak again.”

This had to be the reason Dane had interrupted my earlier plan. I followed Alec and Beth until they were a few feet from the tent. The flap of the big grey tent flew open abruptly and the spookiest woman I’d ever seen stood before us. Her eyes were black. Totally black. No white part, no clear pupil. The only thing breaking them up were little specks of… light? ‘She’s been blessed by Cerce, Goddess of Witchcraft. She is no normal witch,’ Dane alerted me, his fur rising on end. ‘She’s dangerous.’

To protect her as she headed to the nursery for the babies. My heart clenched watching her go, but I trusted her strength. She was now more powerful than three Alphas put together. Damion noticed too, panic flashing across his face. “Stop her!” he bellowed to his minions. Chrysantha screamed in fury. She raised both arms, channeling everything she had. A massive wave of black magic erupted upward, slamming into the sky above the palace. The night turned pitch black instantly. Thick, choking smoke rolled down like a living curse, swallowing light and air.

Ansel's voice was barely a whisper, his usual commanding presence overshadowed by the shock. "Yes," Seraphina said softly, her voice carrying the heavy burden of truth. "The black witches from the northern part of Titanic Wave are plotting to use the blood of wolves to enhance their magic. They believe that by consuming the essence of the Alpha King, they can magnify their power to unprecedented levels." My heart pounded in my chest, each beat echoing with fear and anger. "But why? What do they gain from this?"

That wretched scream, and laughter, soft feminine, terrible voice. A woman emerged from the haze. Her dress flickered like shadow and flame. Her hair fell in a thick and tangled way around her shoulders, strands silver as black as nightmares. Zaira Blackthorn. I did not know how I knew her name, but I knew. The same way, I knew that she was a witch. "Such chaos," she whispered, voice like smoke and poison. "So much effort to protect something you were destined to lose." Behind her floated symbols drawn in blood, pulsing with sickly green light. I tried to run forward, to throw myself at her, to stop her, but my body would not move. My feet were rooted. My throat locked.

Its eye sockets glowed with sickening, unnatural purple light. “A perimeter patrol found it nailed to the front gates,” Dominic snarled, and crushed the effigy in his fist. The purple light hissed, then died. But the smell of rot only got worse, like it was feeding on the destruction. “They bypassed all our tech. They slipped right through the Lycan patrols.” “Who did?” I managed, and my spine chilled anyway, even before the answer came. “The Witches of the Black Coven,” Marcus said, voice dropping into a terrified whisper. “They live in the deep bogs of the south. They’re ancient enemies of both wolves and vampires, feeding on raw magic to keep themselves alive forever.”

I said tilting my head to one side. Her eyes narrowed and her face hardened. "What do you mean my people are working behind my back? What does the dark witches have to do with this?" Ambrosia asked, gritting her teeth. Well that answered my question. I knew she wouldn't like her own people going against her. "We were attacked by vampires and I'm sure you are familiar with Bosch." I said turning towards Pythia to explain her side of things. "I killed my mother for working with Bosch. We dark witches can't contain white magic. It would kill us but my mother didn't want to listen so I did what I had to do to save my people." Pythia said. "I am aware of who Bosch is, he came to me a few months b