Elliot Nightray Novels & Stories

“Elias… finish it.” Kairis whispered, “Please don’t die up there.” Kai, barely standing, murmured, “He won’t. He’s Elias.” Dorian crossed his arms tightly. “No… he’s Valarieth.” Up in the sky, Elias finally found an opening— He slammed his palm into Nihareth’s chest, glyphs bursting out like chains of sunlight. Nihareth screamed as the glyphs pierced through him, pulling the darkness away from Tristan’s flesh inch by inch.

My eyes fix on a place on the wall, but I’m not seeing its dull gray surface. My mind is spinning, reeling, thinking of all the ramifications of the past twelve hours. Cyrillius knows I’m a Nero. He knows Nymiah is a Nero. Did she and Zayne and Edan get away? Are they somewhere safe? What do they all think happened to me? And…Dad…

I run my finger down the water glass, wiping away a few more beads of condensation. “Nothing good,” Naomi says quickly. “But we’re not here to talk about that. We’re here to look hot, get drunk, and live our best lives tonight.” “I can get behind that,” I say. “Good. Because that’s what we’re doing.” Naomi looks over at the bar. “Who’s the hot blonde again? I was a little distracted trying not to be eaten by zombies the last time we met.” “That’s Eliza. She’s Lucas’s vampire daughter or whatever you’d consider her.”

Slowly, it drifted from the shore, the lilies trailing softly behind it like a path of light. Every wolf lifted their head to the sky, their howls rising together, one long mournful song that pierced the night and vibrated deep in my chest. Then came the final rite. Elliot stepped forward, dressed in black, a bow in his hands. His movements were steady, but I saw the tightness in his jaw, the unbearable weight in his eyes. He drew back the arrow, its tip lit with fire, and for one suspended moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.

I ended the call just as my phone vibrated again. Daniel. I answered immediately. “Speak.” “Sir… we’ve pulled initial reports,” Daniel said, his tone tight, urgency barely contained beneath control. “Elliot is alive, but critical. He was found near East Ridge with a single gunshot wound. No witnesses. No vehicle on record entering or leaving.” Which meant he had been placed there. Deliberately. “Status on my mother and Hailey?” A pause. Too long. “Sir… we don’t have anything yet.”

He didn’t sleep that night. When the first gray light of dawn finally crept through the blinds of his private quarters, Elias stood under the scalding spray of the shower, one hand braced against the tiled wall, the other wrapped tight around his aching cock. He stroked himself with rough, punishing strokes, eyes squeezed shut, trying to think of anything—anyone—else. But all he could see was pale gray eyes burning with challenge and a tattooed compass pointing straight down into damnation. He came hard, biting back a groan that still sounded too much like Zion’s name.

Fell. And didn’t rise again. “Nara,” Elliot called, stepping toward her. His hands gently shook her shoulders. “Nara.” No response. The room felt colder. He tried again, his voice cracking slightly. “Nara.” Silence. Then Elliot turned to us—me, Caleb, and Aurora. His expression was unreadable at first. But then, after a beat, he exhaled, his shoulders dropping. “She’s gone,” he said. “She’s dead.”