Elder Blood Witcher Novels & Stories

No wonder he's been quiet this week, it was because he was plotting which is why he doesn't want me to notice him, and as for how he got a witch to help him create the wendigo and also gave him that powder, it's a simple thing to crack. He went to seek help from Elisa, the cold witch, A.K.A. the lone witch. She's a white witch who is in no coven, likes to work alone, and also has some annoying fucked up relationship with Dad, she was also the one who built the barrier and so it was easy for the Wendigos to break through it. “Have you figured out who the person is?” Dexter asks, both of them now looking at me waiting for me to spill the person's name.

He slammed into it, yelping, and Elara cursed, darting sideways as a shadow coiled toward her. “Give me the pup, and I’ll let him live,” the witch said, her voice sweet as honey. “Refuse, and he’ll join his friends. Stoned. Silent. Eternally.” Ellie suddenly stopped humming. Her golden eyes locked on the witch, and the crimson mark on her wrist flared. The vial in the witch’s hand exploded, red liquid splattering the walls—and the stoned wolves gasped, their bodies shifting back to flesh. “Wha—” The witch stumbled, her black eyes widening. “Impossible. She’s too young to—”

Elara remarked as she entered with the grace of an enchanting woman. Elara aged like fine wine. Her honey-brown skin radiated vitality despite her advanced years. Approaching a century old, she was one of the most powerful mages I had ever encountered, defying both death and the natural order with her youthful appearance. Rumors suggested she possessed werewolf genes, which, combined with her magical prowess, were the secrets to her eternal youth. She had been one of the few to support my father during his wrongful accusation by Sethrak, the usurper, and had narrowly escaped annihilation by not following us to the battlefield.

I could feel her eyes on me but I didn’t look in her direction. After dinner, I helped carry the pups up the stairs with their nannies and the bodyguard following us from behind. Leaving Saraya with them in their room, I left to join Bertulf. The Were was waiting for me with Jared and Anton. I strode passed them and they followed me. Heading to the side garden Bertulf hurried to meet up with me, Anton and Jared gave us space, tailing us from behind. “Talk to me about Grand witch of the Eastlands, particularly the Twilight Flame,” I urged,

And I’ll have to ask Aldrich if he's willing to offer his blood. After our discussion about how the first Cursed Ones gained entry into Altair, I’m convinced that Werewolves are magical beings as well. If I’m successful in carrying out the ritual, it will prove once and for all that the shapeshifting ability of the Werewolves is indeed a form of magic, and they very much deserve to live in Altair like all other magical beings.

“Xoco, you can not keep doing this. You need to unwind your mind. Get out of these walls besides… going on killing sprees.” “Do you not get it, Elena?” she looks at me with tears. “My daughter is turning twenty-one soon. Twenty-one, Elena. You know what that means. She needs my blood, her family's blood, to receive her second power besides our wolf. If she doesn't… she can die.” she says, with tears in her eyes, fighting back the knot building in her throat. I know she’s right. Our great-great-grandmother was a blood witch who fell in love with his mate, a werewolf.

the witch continued, “yet forever marked by it. Innocent. Unclaimed. Pure.” The grimoires shifted. Names surfaced. Bloodlines traced themselves backward through centuries. Until one name burned brighter than the rest. Elara. The witch’s breath caught. “Elara of the Crimson line,” she said slowly. “Turned, not born. Her blood has already been corrupted by the supernatural.” Murmurs rippled through the coven. “Then she cannot be used,” someone said. “No,” the eldest witch replied. “But her blood opened the door.” The pages turned again.

Abigail whispered. “It’s Elyndra” Slowly, my jaw dropped and even until we got my car, I was still speechless. Elyndra, I’d heard that name before and it wasn’t just from Abigail. The whole town knew of the Queen of Witches, and if there was one person we Werewolves feared, it was the immortal Elyndra. But tonight was the first time I knew she had a sister. And not just any sister but Eliana’s Granddaughter. This meant Elyndra was her Great-aunt and Eliana wasn’t just any witch, she was a full hybrid.

Maybe I really was making a huge mistake pushing him away. Interrupting my thoughts, Lucy replied, “Oh, it’s definitely true! Blake tortures people too, and so did his dad—well, your dad too, I guess. I’ve heard stories. I won’t repeat them because they’re gruesome.” “Tell me, please,” I said, eager to know, begging Lucy with my eyes. “Okay, I won’t go into detail, but I’ve heard they chop people’s arms and legs off and pull out their eyes. Stuff like that. And werewolves don’t die. They just heal so they can keep going for hours.”

She would treat her best as she could. "Yes," the elders chimed in Serene's question. Indeed, Adira Elisaveta was the Werewolf princess. And the most important thing in the werewolves was brotherhood. If something to were to happen to their race they would not care about the win or failure, all they care about is fighting till the end to keep up the brotherhood.