Elder Scrolls Mara Novels & Stories

She landed lightly beside the body, breathing hard, blood, his and hers, dripping from her fingertips. The clearing erupted into chaos. Kael tore through two scouts in seconds, their screams swallowed by his jaws. Betas flanked the rest, cutting off escape. But Elara felt it, the wrongness still lingering, stronger now, closer. A shadow detached from the far treeline, tall, cloaked, unmoving while the others fought and died. No weapon raised. Just watching. Elara’s hybrid eyes locked on the figure. The hood fell back. Mara. The servant girl’s face was pale, eyes wide with something like regret and resolve. In her hand, a small crystal vial glowing sickly green, the source of the poison scent

“I’ll rally Rolan’s army. We’ll fight back.” Mara met her eyes and nodded. “Do it,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “We’re going to war.” Elowen’s expression softened for a moment, but there was no hesitation in her eyes. “I’ll make sure they’re ready.” Mara watched her go, and as Elowen disappeared into the shadows, she closed her eyes, trying to gather her thoughts. But then, something strange began to happen. Her vision swam, and in the midst of her grief, she saw it—an image, clear as day. It was Elara. Her mother.

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.

She continued, my strangling demon: "Dear scheming Jarngrimr hasn't stopped blathering on about you since you were conceived. Tithe to Utgardr, she says, your blood the bridge between Arcadia and the Northern Holds. Tuppence, I say. Nothing good comes of a filthy witch." The mara atop me spat in my face, her sleek auburn hair and light milky skin like the Arcadian prefects of Periland, the home of the mara race. Her large sable eyes bore into my soul, and she assumed the nightmare position, conjuring my dreams with her slender, spiked fingers in black sand. From the essence of the cloud, the mara feasted.

Mara straightens, then turns to go. And then— She pivots too fast. Her hand doesn’t go for the door. It goes inside her sleeve. I see the glint of metal a split second before my wolf screams. DOWN! I move without thinking, dropping and twisting just as something whistles through the space where my head was. The blade hits the wall. Mara doesn’t hesitate. She lunges. “ELARA!” the guard shouts. He draws his sword, but she’s already on me. I scramble backward, heart slamming against my ribs, my hands sliding on the stone floor. She moves like someone trained—not a servant, not even a normal wolf.

Andrew teased through laughter that verged on giggling, “You know what karma is? Well, it is a total..” The words were stolen from Andrew's mouth as the earth shifted underfoot, and the mountain that towered above them began to tremble. Looking up, Elaine’s gaze settled on the dark brown abyss that was falling like dark stars from the heavens- straight towards them.

I just wanted to survive, to understand my own power, to make sense of the fractured feelings I had for two mates who represented two different versions of my future. The settlement emerged from the forest like something out of memory. Rough structures built from wood and stone, arranged in a way that felt both temporary and determined. The people who emerged to greet us were a mixed group, all bearing the marks of hardship, all carrying the distinctive silver hair and violet eyes that marked them as Glom Pack descendants. A woman stepped forward, older than Kira, her face scarred and weathered. "Kira. You found her." "I found her," Kira confirmed. "Lyra, this is Mara. She was your mother's

“The first thing we must do is trace your lineage and find your family’s grimoire. A witch is nothing without her grimoire, her cauldron, and her potions. So tell me, Elara, who is your real mother?” Elara’s brow furrowed at the question, not understanding what she meant by real mother. She thought to herself that Andy was real and her mother, so was Stella only asking for her mother’s name. Finding the way in which her mentor worded the question strange, she answered with confidence. “Andy Viseron is my mommy—mother.” Elara blushed, hoping the woman didn’t her age when she called her mother mommy.

“It’s the only thing that could save Maybel, it’s her essence as a vessel. If you spill it or betray us..:” “I won’t,” Mara interrupted, her eyes shining. “Not when the reward is so tempting, hopefully you won’t go back on your words either” She started drawing her sigils in the dirt, chanting softly. The air around her began to ripple. “Go,” I ordered her, my patience wearing thin. With a sly smile, Mara vanished in a puff of smoke. I paced the chamber like a caged dog, every minute stretching into forever. My wolf was restless, scratching at my ribs. Then, through our link with Aria’s magic reflector, we saw it;

“This vintage doesn’t give room for you to make mistakes.” “I’ll do my best,” I answer, and tip the bottle slowly so the thread of wine climbs the crystal without a splash. His eyes flick up at my tone, amusement ghosting there, and then he’s done with me. I prefer it when he’s done with me. Evelara snickers softly behind her hand. “So serious,” she says to the woman beside her. “It’s adorable when the wild ones try to be proper.” The woman, Elder Mara, glances at me curiously. “They can be taught,” she says. “If one is patient enough and firm.”