Eldritch Mga Nobela at Kwento

UNKNOWN FIGURE : Oh my, forgive my manners… I completely forgot to introduce myself A dark figure drops down not too far from where Elijah stood, when the figure arose Elijah could finally make out its physical appearance; the figure was quite humanoid with a few alterations like having a horn protruding from the middle of his forehead, also there were horns protruding out of his elbows with his skin having tiny bumps throughout, his irises where red, his nails seemed like those of a wild beast with a wicked smile on his face… UNKNOWN FIGURE : My name is Draco, I am a member of the NAMED ELIJAH : Draco??... I don’t think I know you and what the hell is the Named?? DRACO : Oh you do know me,

With a smile on his face he pulled the woman from the stone table and dragged her screaming by her ankles into the centre of yhe pentagram. My breath caught in my throat as I watched the moment unfold. In a swift, practiced motion, Andre plunged the athame into her chest. Time seemed to freeze, the chapel silent except for the crackling of the flames. Her blood pooling on the stone floor beneath her, flowing through the grooves etched into the pentagon. It snaked toward the fire, and as it met the flames, they erupted into a vibrant red, a violent and beautiful transformation. As her heart ceased to beat, a rush of energy surged through the room, and I could feel the air crackle with raw pow

“Not clearly, not until recently. Last week, we saw it. Three of us. It was like nothing I’ve seen before. Taller than a wolf. Almost... twisted. Faster. Vicious. And its eyes...” He turns towards me then, and I see the memory flash behind his eyes. “Crimson,” he says. “Like fire in the dark.” I go still. Every part of me freezes around the words. His gaze sharpens. He must see the recognition in my face. “You’ve seen it too.” I don’t answer. Not yet. My thoughts are already racing, colliding with what I’ve seen, what I know, what I fear. Drake doesn’t press me. Instead, he leans back slightly, exhaling. “Our elders, after we described it, they think it might be a lycan.”

The moment the door shut, Cedric Phillips turned to me and said, “Austin Belmont is suspected to be part Druid wolf and is being monitored for any unbecoming behavior.” Rolling my eyes, I frowned. “He is my marked mate, so nothing is going to come from it. He won't go rogue or cause any issues by going on a crazy killing spree,” I asserted, and he gave me a rude grunt. “You know what a druid wolf is, Miss Gibson?” Nodding nervously, I explained that I learned about them from my pack school, but he furrowed his brow and then shook his head. “Don't lie to me. I'm well aware that druids are extremely rare wolves and not a subject of study in your prior classes,” he growled, causing me to swallo

The crypt held its breath. Torchlight stuttered against damp stone, shadows stretching like knives. The altar had split wide open, the crack glowing with a black fire that was neither heat nor flame. And from it, the hand had come — clawed, long-fingered, slick with shadow ichor — curling on the stone edge as though testing its weight. Daryl’s scream shredded through the silence, his body bowing off the slab as tendrils writhed beneath his skin. His eyes burned bright, black shot through with molten orange, like embers in coal.

"I'm not really they're uncle." I watch as shoulders suddenly drop. One of the oldest twins steps forward and gives me a short salute and an eye roll towards Ashrac. "We like to call him uncle because it bugs him. Name's Drayce of the Purple Dragon Clan. We're twelve. This is my brother Ejder of the Purple Dragon Clan." They are both tall and lean with a lot of growing to do, but you can see they'll be the size of Ashrac before long. Both girls dutifully step forward next. They begin at the same time, stop, and then the one on the right speaks. "I'm Zara of the Purple Dragon Clan and this is-"

“If you’re searching for the truth about the Blood Moon, there’s only one person left in Drukbane who understands it. His name is Aldric. He’s a wizard, but most believe he died years ago.” “Where can I find him?” Liora asked quickly. Mira looked around before answering. “Follow me. But we can’t be seen.” They moved quietly through narrow corridors behind the main shelves. After several turns, Mira opened a small wooden door that led down a spiral staircase. The air grew colder. At the bottom was a wide underground chamber filled with books, crystals, and faintly glowing runes on the floor. An old man sat at a desk surrounded by candlelight. His long gray hair was tied back, and he wore simp

Helena’s glowed soft green. Healing magic. The freed cult victims showed grays. Still tainted. And Aldric’s tent… “Do you see it?” Erica asked. I did. Oh, I did. Aldric’s aura had layers. On the surface: gold. Loyalty. Family. Purpose. But underneath, faint and hidden, something else pulsed. Dark red. Almost black. Hungry. Exactly like Seraphine’s had been. “Moon Goddess,” I breathed. Erica let go.

It was a small comfort in this unfamiliar place. A wooden signpost caught her attention, the carved letters weathered but still legible against the dark grain. An arrow pointed left, bearing the words "Limdrion University," while another directed right toward something called "The Melanthor." She hesitated, her scholar's curiosity piqued by the unfamiliar term. The word had an ancient elven root, melan, meaning "knowledge" or "secrets." Secrets were precisely what she needed now.

We were silent for a time; the dead needed no words, only our witness. I reached out, brushing my fingers over Seraphine’s tomb. Dust dulled the golden crest carved into the lid, but beneath the grime was something etched deeper—a different language. Draven leaned in. “That’s not Everley runes.” “It’s Draconic,” I replied, my heart racing. The symbols were sharp and angular, so unlike the flowing script I knew. But I could read it—instinctively. “Say it with me,” I whispered, and Draven nodded.