Eldritch Beings Novels & Stories

I said as I pull my sword from my holster belt when I feel that dark aura coming towards us. Vlash look around and when he sees those moving bushes he pulls his sword. “What the… what ARE those?” I utter in disgust when I clearly see who or what are those approaching creatures. I see some small looking naked ugly little creatures like dwarves but look so scary and their bodies look like of those zombies. Their faces are covered in bandages, their eyes are orange, they have long sharp ears, no nose and they are holding weapons and spears as they run towards us. “Those are ‘limpets’ they are like the dark opposite of dwarves. They are scary and they kill people. They serve the black goddess.”

“Lucian has begun his march. His army has tripled since last we counted.” Darius’s eyes darkened. “Tripled?” “The warlocks have been busy,” she said. “They’ve been performing rituals binding the fallen wolves, twisting their spirits back into flesh. What he commands now… they’re not living. They’re something else.” Lyra’s heart sank. “The Shadowborn.” Helene nodded. “Creatures that don’t bleed or tire. They feed on pain and obey no alpha but him.” A chill rippled through the air, and for a moment, even the wind seemed to die.

It confused Eleand even more. “I know you two are not on good terms, but between your feud, I’m out. This is just a misunderstanding on my side.” Eleand was so sure about it. He was becoming far too involved. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” Rieska looked annoyed, and she added, “How are the Erganivians? Are the Shadows still striking terror into them?” Harewyn shook his shoulders. “That’s another bad news, stronger Shadows appeared. They could control one’s body—the Kaluwahs, the soul stealers. They had been revived from Elduri.”

They’re beings of the underworld and not surface-dwellers as we’ve adapted over the centuries. Now it’s all coming to me. Darklings were once an overwhelming number, easily possessing the vessels of the living and stealing their souls to procreate more of them and bolster their numbers. They’re very dangerous and have lost all sense of reasoning; empty vessels greedily on an endless prowl to afflict the living with their curse. My father, the supreme Ruler of the surface Demons had once performed a powerful sealing ritual to seal the gates they abused to surface into the physical realm, and that had been over fifty decades ago, during the decade-long war between our kind and the Werewolves.

The wind at the summit of the Obsidian Hatchery didn’t just howl; it screamed with the frequency of a dying world. High above the fortress, where the air was thin enough to taste of stars and ancient frost, the Great Drakes of the Obsidian Peak stirred in their stone nests. These were not the dragons of myth, but primordial, fur-clad behemoths—half-wolf, half-serpent, with wings of leathery shadow that spanned thirty feet. They were the "Shadow-Stalkers," beasts that had served the High Alphas since the First Dawn, and they only answered to the resonance of a Hallowed Command.

* The black cloud finally arrived over the palace spires, and as it parted, hundreds—then thousands—of shifting, translucent shapes began to descend into the courtyard. They were not living, breathing shadow beasts. They were not soldiers of the Moon Guard, nor were they physical dragons. They were ghosts. They were the spectral, weeping remnants of ancient dragon spirits—their colossal forms hollowed out, their scales made of pure, roiling silver-gray smoke, and their eyes glowing with a twisted, crimson madness. Eryx unleashed a deafening roar of pure fury. *"Impossible! The elder councils buried them beneath the crust centuries ago!"* Morwen’s face turned completely pale, her wooden staff

This was the most grotesque thing they had seen in their life. With his keen senses, Creed already knew that this heart was not something they should mess with. An unknown thing as bizarre as this could be fatal to their soul or even their minds. They had already read about strange beings inside the glitch. There were already many casualties and strange existences in the glitch unanswered, and they thought this could very well be one of them.

Each soul seemed to wail and struggle as it was pulled free, their ethereal forms twisting and contorting in torment. As the last of the trapped souls left the crystal, a profound silence fell over the graveyard, broken only by the distant cries of night birds. Dagon's figure loomed in the darkness, the roiling energy from the crystal now swirling around him like a malevolent storm. With a chilling certainty, he turned his attention to the still forms of the surrounding graves.

"That's why I stopped by. Her parents I made regular immortals. I conjured a different immortality spell for Anita. She's the first I tried it on..." "What did you do," Mackenzie growls in anger. "She's turning into a Dhamphir and so is your child," Victoria says with wide eyes. Before Olivia could bite her wrist, Victoria stops her. "She needs to drain them dry." "Then bring her one when the bloody sun goes down," Mackenzie snaps. She reaches in the nightstand and grabs the same needle I used to prick my finger when she needed blood. She pricks her finger and brings it to my lips. "Hopefully mine will at least ease your nausea with the baby."

The grotesque creatures - werebies, a horrifying blend of werewolf and zombie - circulated the whole place. "No one is allowed to move," Dhruv announced in all his naked glory. "Iblis and Asmodeus would be carrying out an exercise called the plucking out exercise. If you're not willing to accept me as your new god, you're welcome to die at their hands. If you've already accepted me as your god, do not panic, the werebies are under my control so they won't attack unless I want them to."