Eldritch Oc Novels & Stories

His eyes close tight, and his heart sings into my ears. *** Maybe out of greediness or the need to feel his warmth, I cuddle next to his chest. His fingers trail up and down my spine in a slow stroll. "There’s something I should have said a while back," Paul starts, while he stares at the ceiling. "I might not be the actual Dacian Draco you were searching for. In the wolves’ stories, Dacian Draco is an ancient wolf living in the mountains. His origins lost in time, he’s meant to protect the living from the dead. Maybe he’s what you sought."

she asked, her words muffled by her knees as she hugged them close, remembering Rhyzar’s mysterious ability to heal her. Gerda tilted her head thoughtfully. “You might call it magic,” she said, “though we consider it a gift. It pools in one among us—a blessed person we call ‘Draken,’ which in our tongue means ‘dragon.’ This gift can manifest in many ways—manipulating the elements, altering physical forms—”

"That journey shall be too perilous, though the path is the shortest." "What are the Drekavac?" this time Ruslan asked. "Drekavac, or the screamers. They are furry canine human-like forest demons with a spindle-thin body and impossibly long claws. Horrible, horrible creatures, those Drekavac, I tell you," said the owl. "Our time is running out," the princess said. "The solstice is getting nearer and we can't linger anymore."

All laughter died out and the atmosphere suddenly became very tense again. Seraphina picked up the blanket and hugged it to her chest, she inhaled deeply before she released a sigh. A frown marred her face, “Dhampir,” she whispered under her breath. She picked up the rest of the items and sniffed them all, “All Dhampir children,” Aurelia confirmed. “Is that significant?” Achilles asked. “Dhampir children have pure, untapped power, in dark magic, the purer the sacrifice, the greater the reward.” Seraphina words sent a shiver through Achilles’.

His amber eyes were a fixed, unblinking light that caught the green luminescence of the wall-moss. Varth let out a low, sibilant hiss from behind his serrated jaws, his horizontal pupil eyes locking instantly onto Dmitry. "The stray..." the officer rasped, his voice a deep, gravelly vibration that rattled the iron chains holding his chest. "You carry the scent of the trenches, Lycan. You can hide beneath the silver skirts of your queen, but the Sultan knows your markers. The old blood never stays buried."

Energy cracked in the air, thick and heavy, like a storm gathering too close to the skin. And then he walked in. Ciro Hitchdulf. Warlock. Exiled heir to the fallen House of the Ashen Throne. Rumors said he bathed in dragon blood, had a wolf’s temper, and never spoke a promise he didn’t break. He wore darkness like it was stitched into his very muscles, black leathers, storm-gray eyes under obsidian lashes, and a mouth that looked carved to ruin. He stood across the stall, eyes locked on her like he’d already decided something. She felt it in her bones, heat. Not the type she brewed into tonics or steeped into healing charms. No, this heat crawled. It stirred her blood.

Ashren asked, exchanging a look with Silas. "The thralls," Drax whispered. "They aren't just reanimated corpses. They are cultivated. Darius found the old books. The ones the First Alphas burned." He coughed, a wet, hacking sound that brought up black bile. Silas wiped it away with a grimace. "He is using the Void," Drax continued, his voice dropping to a terrified whisper. "He infects them. He hollows them out. And then he fills them with a hive mind. They don't eat meat, Elara. They eat magic."

Lihont whispered, his voice sounding extremely weird, like someone else was speaking through him. He raised his hands toward the full moon and began reciting some strange spells and scary chants. “Haulaurow Drequito bregavidaras Masstre tanwirop faeraq!” The words were from a language that no one could understand and the Dark Lord was the one whispering the words into Lihont's ear. The air around the mansion immediately became chilly, turning so cold that the breath of the soldiers in the field came out like white clouds.

The words were strange and guttural and old, full of sounds that did not belong in any of their tongue. Draevon leaned in close, his lips barely brushing the shell of Malgron's ear. The words that came out of his mouth were not words that belonged to any living tongue. They were old. "Zarthul vorn akh nathar. Kaelithra naru thrak morvath. Draegun thal, akh zorvath. Athun marak, volthur kael. Athun thrakar, volthur kael. Athun... bruthenar. Vrakthul morvath ferak. Kadarath zor. Thrakath mor. Zarvath thul. Vrak."

I let out another beastly growl and lunge at him but something snapped within me as I plunge a hand into his chest. A sweet scent wafted into my nose, the urge to kill become so strong and irresistible, this sweet smell was calling on to me to suck on it. I licked my lips as I turned my gaze to the mouth watery snack in the cage. ************** Lilac* My heart pounded hard as I witnessed Drayce Brutality with my own eyes, it's was like it's was him and not him at the same time, the way he killed those witches scares the freaking hell out of me, goddess just how sharp were his claws, to swipe through seven heads in a flash,?