Carver O Beast Novels & Stories

"I heard you begging... I couldn't leave you." On the ledge above, Morgessa’s face went ghastly white. Her green eyes widened in sheer, unadulterated horror as she watched the dead King rise from the snow, holding his mate like she was the only thing keeping the world from spinning off its axis. Caspian sat up, bringing me with him, his arm locked around my waist, his silver eyes turning slowly toward the woman on the cliff. The Beast wasn't just awake. He was completely, terrifyingly whole. And as he looked at Morgessa, the smile that touched his blood-stained lips made my own blood run cold with dark, wild anticipation.

Jeremy quizzed, the beast although without a head on its neck was still standing on its feet as though alive, following his question was the strangest of sights that rendered the three boys speechless, the once headless best had suddenly grown a head, however, like before it wasn't that of a snake, it was the head of a goat having three eyes, one at it's middle and two at its side and a pair of massive red horn, it was a goat baring long canines with a mouth wide enough to consume a fully grown man, it had a venomous Silva dripping from it's forked tongue which slithered like a snake's and instinctively the three boys leaped backward in defense. "I can see but yet it's still hard to believe,

The cave resonated with the roar of the beast, ground shaking beneath their feet. Lerder, his muscles tense, paced in front of Elara, his eyes burning with hard determination. Elara's golden aura surged around him, her amulet in her hand thumping with raw, unreleased energy. The beast, bigger even than a wolf, its shape ugly but somehow beautiful, sprang, claws out. Their skin crawled at the ancient evil burning in its eyes. “Elara!” Lerder bellowed, his shout primal ringing off the cavern. He blocked the creature's initial attack with his burly arm, but the force of impact sent him rolling.

Amelia's gaze involuntarily shifted to the walls on either side, which were densely covered with carvings of rare and exotic beasts she had never seen before. Some of the beasts resembled deer but had four horns entwined with vine-like patterns, their eyes wide open as if staring at those ascending the stairs. Others had the wings of an eagle and the body of a tiger, with claws as sharp as knives, wings spread as if ready to swoop down at any moment. There were also beasts entirely covered in scales, but with human-like heads, solemn faces, holding unknown objects in their hands, surrounded by cloud-like patterns that exuded both sanctity and strangeness. The craftsmanship of these carvings

Now, he still looked young but wasn’t naive anymore. “What was that?” Alaric asked, walking inside the cave. “And what the hell is this?” He asked in shock when his eyes landed on Beast’s injury. It was like a shock to him to see Beast injured. Alaric quickly reached near him. “What happened to you?” “Nothing. It seems like these hunters are also getting stronger day by day.” Beast replied and tried to sit but hissed in pain.

"They wouldn't just let a beast of fortune go." He cared little about Krowo's situation. He just needed that beast! For years, he could not achieve arcane ascension, so he was forced to keep changing vessels as his face deteriorated. With the beast's blood, he would not need to hunt for young sacrifices anymore. "Find it." His eyes flashed venomously. "That beast must be mine." "Yes, Master." As the mist dispersed, Daemon, who was barely human now, had his back stitched up. He then ordered someone outside the door, "Prepare to visit the Carvers."

’Come one, come all, let them know who holds the strength and power of this realm. It’s a whisper in the still air, carried by the murky sky. A beat that embeds in your skin, a song that silently plays in your mind. A drum that sounds with the rhythm of our hearts. I listen and watch as Mathias seamlessly transitions into his beast, standing almost ten feet tall, an axe in his gigantic paw. Finn shifts too, his beast just as large but instead of the deep dark brown of Arcas, Finn’s beast, Arthur, glistens in white.

The light in its eyes was almost diminished. However, the most merciless injuries the beast had were on one of its wings. The huge sword slash on its left wing nullifying the possibility of escape through flight. The beast lay on the ground beaming a helpless yet scared glare at the audience. The cube was nothing but a sturdy cage made from a metal same as the sturdy base of The Disque Caravan itself. Every hair on Creed's skin stood up straight. His very soul almost rejected his body, and images around him dulled to a standstill. He could hear his heart inside his eardrums.

And standing over us wasn't the Rowan I knew. Rowan was standing on all fours, but his body was a nightmare of transformation. He wasn't a sleek, noble wolf like the others. He was something older, something darker. His fur was a deep, bruised violet-black, and his eyes were twin pools of amethyst fire. He was larger than Valerius, larger than any of the hounds. He was the **Beast** the Aethel-Corp had tried to drown in a sea of gold ink. He let out a howl that shattered the remaining glass in the warehouse. It wasn't a sound of victory. It was a sound of **Grief**.

None of the monsters moved toward them as the two Picts toured the cave. “Enemies?” Gonar hissed to his master as they walked amongst the beasts. Every one of them yawned and appeared sleepy to Gonar. Every one of them sported an ivory coat of fur, save for the largest. Gonar peered over the edge of the walkway at the vast underworld. He eyed the only one of the beastmen covered in black fur, the one they called Adelaido.