Death Eater Sign Novels & Stories

His figure remained by the door, but something felt off. I scanned him. His collar had shifted—just enough to show the back of his neck. The Black Talon. My eyes shot wide open. The Black Talon was a mark I knew well. A death brand. The symbol of the worst kind of hired killers— Mercs who’d kill for the highest bidder—no code, no loyalty. Just money. Whoever paid most owned their trigger finger. He turned. A blade glinted in his hand. Our eyes locked. For a moment, the world was silent. Just me, him, and the air between us thick with war.

“There is no sign of wolfsbane or silver. We looked into their pasts, and there was nothing to connect them, but the pattern of their deaths looked exactly the same. There is a mark left on each of them.” I turned the back of the bodies and found a capital “D” with a little “w” under it. It wasn’t drawn with a claw; it was like a stamp, a perfect symbol. Apart from the mark on their bodies, there were no other injuries; hence, even I couldn’t tell what killed them, but I could smell something common on all the bodies, something like black magic. But that would be impossible, the last witch that could perform that was the witch that cursed me…and she was dead, I made sure of it.

“Aries, Taurus, Gemini, Cancer, Leo, Virgo, Libra, Scorpio, Sagittarius, Capricorn, Aquarius, and Pieces.” Holding the secret that he just knew now in exchange for the little favor of ‘his’ soul. He smiles now in delight as his changing mood and expression are like the haywire of the unfortunate weather. Killing, stalking, caring, loving, and cursing at the same time, but greatly favor the dread and tone of death at the very end and his response. “Gate of truth, a symbol of life and the beginnings of sin. Just how will this book flow from now on? Just how exciting does this tale will going to be?”

And terrifying. “Let’s see what the cards say,” I murmured. I cut the deck and laid out three cards. The first flipped easily. The Tower. Lightning. Collapse. Sudden disaster. My stomach tightened. The second card showed the Nine of Swords. Sleepless nights. Guilt. Pressure that breaks a person from the inside. My hand hovered over the final card. I already knew what it would be. I flipped it. Death. Usually a symbol of change. But not tonight.

“Agent lust has informed me of the symbol that agent cult come across and I fear that it is not a threat to take likely.” “Captain, can I ask what’s so scary about the green firey wolf symbol?,” Scott asked. “The specific symbol belongs to a sorcerer who was perceived dead many years ago. He was known as Harold Hurst, the Warlock Alpha.” The air thickened in the room as the agents each opeard their eyes wide open at the starting news. “But that means his Deus demon is....” Sam started. “That’s right, agent Ethol occulus, the Alpha Lemon,”

Daeira looked up thinking, "Beach?" GD chuckled at that, tucking in her hair behind her ears, "What's with you and this beach, woman?" "I don't know. I just love water." "Oh I forgot. You're a water sign." "You mean Scorpio is a water sign?" she asked while he nodded. "Scorpio is the darkest sign among the zodiacs and it rule them all." "Is that why Hyuna is leading them? The Zodiacs?" "Yes and very fearless one."

Power bursts forth from each seal until it sails off and searches for its masters. As soon as the power clears, my sisters appear before me. Each one is wearing angelic armor that is similar to mine. The armor covers them from head to toe. Their helmets have angelic wings molded on the sides and half-masks shaped like a dove's face. The only thing you can see is their glowing eyes and the bottom half of their faces. However, I don’t need to see their faces to know what their human exteriors look like. I know that War has hone-colored eyes, Death has scarlet-colored hair, and Pestilence’s eyes are two different colors.

I felt a shiver run down my spine as I recognized the style… it was one I had seen before, a signature look that seemed to be favored by those who walked the fine line between life and death. There was something different about her... then it clicked… she was dead… and she had been Risen. The realization hit me like a cold slap, a sudden jolt of understanding that left me reeling. The Cryomancer's eerie beauty, her dark demeanor, and the unsettling sense of something being off all clicked into place. She was dead, her life force extinguished, and yet... she stood before me, a testament to the dark and ancient power of the Necromancers.

"She said they wore symbols. Not like the Order of the Crescent Moon. Something older." "What kind of symbols?" "A spiral. With lines radiating outward." Elara traced it in the air. "Like a sun, but twisted." Clara's brow furrowed. "I've seen that symbol before. In one of Morwen's books. It's a mark of the Devourer's cult." "There's a cult?" "Every ancient evil has its followers." Clara closed the book. "They believe that when the Devourer wakes, it will reward those who served it. Immortality. Power. Whatever they desire."

I become fixated on the fact that this hand is suggestively human and wearing a ring on every finger; rings of all gothic themes, particularly a skull, scorpion, talon, jester’s cap and cat’s eye. When the elevator doors reopen, another character steps in wearing a black ankle-length overcoat and a wide-brimmed leather hat that completely hides the face except for a long predatory beak. I instantly recognize the character from my persistent nightmare and chills race each other up and down my spine. For a reason unknown even to my enhanced psychic abilities, this newcomer is carrying a guitar case. His identity, however, is readily clear to me. He’s the muse of heavy metal. Not Satan, contrar