Elven Bow Oblivion Novels & Stories

"The half-breed —" Gunnar's sword took her head before she finished. Chaos exploded after that. Wolves shifted and lunged. Steel clashed into each other. I let the power out, just enough: roots shot from the dirt under three shamans and yanked them screaming into the ground. Not a full crevice this time but controlled. The bond with Gunnar kept it leashed. Jakob roared from the far tent and charged straight at us. His sword was raised, face twisted with the same hate I remembered from the gate. "Elva! You'll die for this!"

No one had trained for fighting oblivion itself. Rowan positioned archers along the battlements, though everyone knew arrows would be useless. Steel and claw could wound corrupted flesh, but what could touch something that was the negation of matter itself? “Hold positions!” he commanded, his voice steady despite the impossibility before them. “We protect the stronghold. We protect each other. We do not break!” Below, Elara lay where she had fallen, too weak to move, watching the entity approach. Maren crouched beside her, one hand on her pulse, the other clutching medical supplies that would do nothing against the kind of damage Elara had inflicted on herself.

Her blade sang as she drove it through the creature’s gullet. "How many more?!" she shouted. Ravelan looked around grimly. "Too many." But Elias wasn’t finished. He stepped into the center of the fray, eyes glowing. "Arise," he whispered. A massive circle of glyphs expanded across the floor, pulsing like a heartbeat. "Valarieth’s dominion," he murmured, raising his hands. From the markings, ancient beasts—spectral and divine—rose and joined the battle. Lions with burning eyes, hawks with wings of flame, armored hounds—every creature summoned under his command ripped into the corrupted hybrids without mercy.

Though this new path added five more days to the trip, it was safer and smoother, better suited for Lyra, a fragile she-wolf who deserved care and protection. But that wasn’t the only reason. This path passed by a special place, a small cave deep within Gloomwood where Raven and Cara, who was now Lyra, had once lived happily together. Raven had heard that the Potion of Oblivion, the memory-erasing elixir Lyra had taken, wasn’t permanent. With the right stimulus, the memories could return little by little. He hoped the first ones to resurface would be the beautiful moments they once shared.

Emmanuelle nodded silently, then picked up her cell phone again. The device had begun to vibrate, and the vampire quickly picked up. "Yes?" "Forgive me, Manu. Against all odds, those damn dwarves have fomented a rebellion against the elves," Augustine sighed. The vampire turned and glared at the surveillance monitors in one of the elven control rooms. Across the world, groups of dwarves had gathered around the elven portals and were protesting the unreliability of elven technology. Some held up signs shouting that a creature could not be "magical" and that all those stories about fairies and witches were nonsense.

With a flick of his finger, Lior sent Vargos hurtling back into the ranks of his own soldiers, a sonic boom following the impact. Aziel fought at his side, his movements a blur of lethal precision. "He is mine, and I am his! The bond has merged our souls beyond repair. You cannot break what you cannot even comprehend!" Suddenly, the battlefield shifted. A veil of shadow descended, and Elowen, the lead witch, emerged from the haze, her hands wreathed in black flame. "The ancient blood awakens!" she shrieked, her voice frantic. "Lior, your nature is not wolf! You are the Void-born! Choose us, and we can contain the hunger. We can control the force that wants to consume you!"

Complications relating to cursed status. Calista bent slightly, lowering her face nearer his again. From where Elowen stood, the angle blocked by floodlight glare, she couldn’t see his expression—only Calista’s, lit by the ghostly flare of the relic still pulsing faintly in his chest. Elowen took a step. Another. Her muscles shook with each one, belly clenching hard, sweat stinging her eyes. Sniper dots crawled in tandem, aligning like hunting insects. Behind her, she heard Soryn curse in a language older than the Tribunal, felt the old Lunaris magic gathering like a storm held barely in check.

Shadows stretched unnaturally, crawling along the ground, reaching for something they couldn’t name. Then Elara stepped into the center. Her black robes were stitched with forbidden runes, glittering faintly with their own cold hunger. No smile touched her lips. Hunger alone flickered in her eyes. She raised her arms, and her voice cut through the silence like glass: “Korrvak nesh taloum… grahnak velmuirch. Os’hallonn. Drevuuk.”

I thought for a split second and realized what Adam meant. I took a breath and closed my eyes, I clenched my fists then straightened my fingers, releasing all my emotions there, the energy that was inside me. Then I feel it. My weapon was already out of my fingers, just like what my Mother’s had. I opened my eyes and looked up, where I was sure the statue of Nos was up there. Right before my eyes. “I am Cyllina Ivybow, daughter of Deruna Ivybow, Dryad of the Elden Wood. My friends and I came here to bring the witch who will pay for her sins in this holy place. Let us in!!”

Elowen stepped toward the center platform beside him while servants lit the ceremonial flames around the altar one after another. Blue fire illuminated the room. Mother Elvya lifted the ceremonial blade. “But blood and by moon,” she said softly, “I accept the bond.” Elowen already knew the oath now. That somehow made it worse. Draven held out his palm first. Mother Elvya sliced the blade lightly across his skin. Blood welled instantly. Then she turned to Elowen. Elowen clenched her jaw but extended her hand and the blade sliced across her palm. Pain stung sharply.