Novelas y relatos de Elder Scrolls Mara

I don't— “Eli, go find Emerald.” “Er…yes, Mara.” She hustles off, shuffling along on old legs that has seen better days, the knees and ankles swollen with arthritis. Her father was once an alpha of this pack, he transferred much of pack history Mara. So if she warns me about trouble, I'm inclined to take her seriously. I'll come see you later, Mara. Whatever is eating you, I want to hear it. I turn around and head back, walking through the empty court, and out into a moonlit night. Lights have come on in homes, pack members are at their diner tables, eating supper, and an owl hoots in a nearby tree.

He studied me for a long moment before speaking again. “Why now?” he asked. “Why reveal yourself after all this time?” I turned to Elara, my heart tightening at the fire in her eyes. “She has come of age,” I said. “She has faced Raven. She has fought her battles. She has proven herself worthy.” Mara scoffed. “She has not yet passed the trials.” “She will,” I said firmly. Elara’s head snapped toward me. There was a flicker of surprise in her expression before it was replaced by determination.

I asked her. "We still need more werewolves. Some ranks are lacking," she said. At this point I had walked into the bar where Mason and his pack and clansmen were having the bachelor party. As I approached the room, I heard voices inside and paused. "Diane, you are back just in time. Mason is about to marry some beta," I heard someone say. This voice was familiar. It was one of Mason's clansmen. "Mason had stalled bonding with her for years but she still stayed. The moment he agreed, you returned. You are back for Mason, right?" He said and my body went cold.

It was crisp, detailed, and utterly terrifying. Below the image, a message blinked, the characters appearing one by one as if typed by a ghost: “The glass is thinner than you think, Mara. Elias is a dead man walking, and he’s taking you into the grave with him. You have twenty-four hours. Leave him, or you will be the next thing he buries.”

“I just need a minute…” “As you can see, I am busy,” she interrupted, straightening her chair. Her eyes were sharp and wary. Just then, the door burst open, and a blond walked in, accompanied by a little girl. My attention snagged on the child first, assuming that she was the lady's, but as the child turned toward me, my heart stopped. “Mummy!” she yelped and ran toward Elara. She had dark eyes, the same sharp curve of the jaw, a faint dimple in the left cheek. Not even the hair down her back could hide the glaringly undeniable truth.

She dropped the ribbon and ground it into the mud with the heel of her boot. “If I see you outside the communal hut again tonight, I’ll have you whipped for trespassing,” she leaned in, her scent of scorched lemon and sulfur filling my lungs. “You’re not a wolf anymore. You’re a ghost. And ghosts should stay in the dark.” One of the handmaidens—Mara, a girl who had called me her best friend since we were six—stepped forward and kicked my bundle, scattering my journals into a puddle. “Go on, Elara,” Mara whispered, her eyes full of a terrified, sycophantic greed. “Go before she gets angry.”

For the Mother of Wraiths has sisters. The paper crumbled into ash in my hand, the embers glowing with a sickly violet light before vanishing. "Sisters?" I whispered, the cold return of the Sapphire frost flickering in my veins for a split second. "The messenger collapsed after he gave the scroll," Mara said, her hand on the hilt of her sword. "His body... it didn't just die, Elara. It turned into salt." I looked at Kaelen. The peace we had built was barely a month old, and already the foundations were shaking.

Mara’s voice was bright and teasing, her brown eyes glinting with joy as she leaned back on her hands, the sunlight illuminating her face, the glade a sanctuary, the warmth a shared memory. “Three years, and I still can’t believe we pulled it off,” Mara said, her laughter sharp and warm, her brown eyes sparkling, the flame pendant catching the sunlight, the warmth of the glade wrapping around her, the air thick with the scent of smoke, the glade a sanctuary, their bond a radiant light. “We kicked that marrow god’s ass!” She grinned, her body relaxed, the sunlight casting a golden glow on her face, the glade a haven, the warmth a shared triumph.

"What might you possibly wish for right now, Mara?" Standing tall at the doorway, her platinum blonde hair gleamed in the low light, her eyes icy blue and deliberate. "I'm not here for a reunion, Elara," she continued, her voice laced with an emotion I could not identify. "I'm here since you're in more danger than you could possibly know." Leo's posture changed little, his eyes narrowed as he turned back to meet me. His voice harsh, he questioned, "What's going on?" Mara's eyes strayed between the two of us, and for a few seconds I sensed something change in her—something nearly like sorrow. But it vanished just as rapidly, replaced by the same chilly mask she wore every day.