Cyber Sigil Tattoos Novels & Stories

The boys quickly formed a defense stance behind each other giving me the chance to look at the source of such a strong voice. The tattooed stranger! “And who are you to tell us that?” The leading guy asked, his voice hard unlike that of a teenager he is. “Someone who can break your bones and dumb them in a police cell if you don’t leave this minute” he threatened It’s highly unhealthy how his strong command makes my painties wet in the face of danger. I must be going crazy.. The boys ran away in a matter of seconds leaving just the two of us in the area. “Uhhhm…. Thanks” I managed to say

Pressed down and waiting. I knelt by the nearest tree, tracing the base with my gloved fingers. There, etched into the bark, faint but unmistakable was a glyph. Interregnum script. Newly drawn. “Shit,” I whispered. “This area was supposed to be clean.” Ronan crouched beside me. “Doesn’t look active. Could be a decoy.” “Or a trap.” That’s when the sigil pulsed. Not bright, just enough to flash a faint flicker of red before vanishing.

Something older, darker, had been triggered. He looked down again. The sigil was pulsing. Kaelion placed his palm near it, and the glow reacted, repulsing him with a blast of heat. Kaelion brushed her hair away from her face, cradling her as though sheer will could keep her alive. “Stay with me, little one. Come on.” Then, a light glowed beneath the blood. He flinched back as golden sigils carved themselves into her stomach, burning through her skin like fire branding flesh. An intricate spiral formed, ancient and forbidden, It was indeed the Sigil of Undoing.

Not unless it was buried inside me—waiting for blood to dig it out. It doesn’t look like any wolf sigil. It’s not a fang. Not a crescent. Not a claw. Not something tame. It’s a spiral. The same one I drew. The same one that carved itself into my mother’s bones. And it glows with a deeper color than magic should ever allow. Not gold. Not silver. Not moonlight. It's red. Arterial. Vein-deep and screaming. The prisoner jerks hard against his restraints, panic slicing across his face for the first time.

It was my name! My cheeks flushed red as my toes curled. That tattoo wasn't new. Then my eyes dropped to the others. It felt like his skin was a story I wasn't allowed to read. It started at his throat, black ink. Sharp, spiked lines that dragged down the column of his neck, split over his collarbone, and bloomed. The tattoo. It wasn't flowers or tribal...it was sigils, interlocking. Quite ancient like someone carved a spell into him with a blade instead of a needle.

“I’ve seen what those do to the skin, Damon. They look like old burns.” “Only if they’re applied by a low-tier grunt,” he whispers, his green eyes flashing with an intense sensuality. He stops moving, pinning my body against his as his right index finger begins to trace a slow, intricate pattern directly over the skin of my uninjured right shoulder blade. “If you let me,” he continues. “I can give you a mark that belongs entirely to my line. A shadow sigil that’ll sit just beneath the surface of your skin, completely invisible to everyone else, but every time I touch it, it will burn with my heat.”

Look. The image shifted. On the small of her back, where her skin had once been flawless, a dark red sigil now bloomed. It was the design Aiden had personally created for me, the symbol of the highest honor in the Black Moon Pack: the Luna's sigil. [See? He's already carved his mark on me. Now, this spot is mine.] I didn't reply. I just severed the disgusting mental connection. After fixing my disheveled hair and makeup, I walked out from the shadow of the ancient tree as if nothing had happened.

But my right hand lit up—silver spiral glowing like molten metal, same shape as the tattoo, the scar, the locket. A sigil I’d seen over and over I grabbed his hair with my left hand, yanked his mouth off my throat with everything I had. With my right—the glowing one—I slammed the sigil against his forehead. Skin sizzled. He roared. The binding mark seared into his skull—silver on dead-white, spiral turning clockwise, locking. My vision flashed ruby. Eyes bleeding color. my eyes changed from crystal blue irises to ruby red irises. New Fangs—my own—pricking my bottom lip, sudden and sharp.

In brilliance. Starlit white surged upward from Adelaide’s ankle in a sweeping current, racing along the invisible bond before flaring sharply at the mark at her throat, the sigil there igniting in sudden, radiant brilliance as though answering a call older than her memory. The light did not stop. It travelled outward, flooding into Apollo’s tattoos where his skin met hers, each marking along his arm blazing to life in intricate lines of fire that pulsed with red flame in time with the bond between them.

The communicator clattered to the stone ground, its screen shattering on impact. The Silver Moon Wolf Sigil. It was my personal crest, a one-of-a-kind design from my father for my eighteenth birthday. Ronan stared at the shattered device on the ground, his eyes instantly turning red. After a long moment, as if his soul had returned to his body, he bent down to pick it up. But Sienna, standing beside him, let out a scoff. "Enforcer, how hard is it for a Rogue Alpha who specializes in illusions to fake a magical sigil?"