End Arcanimus Novels & Stories

He was right in front of her, dropping down for another pass. “Stay behind him!” Nya shouted to Ruby, who couldn’t answer her in her current form. She had no arrows, but she had a feeling that something wasn’t right. Just as Gavin turned to fire at a large Beelzanborg soldier on his left, an arrow came from the other direction. Nya sensed it with her sixth sense, and as it sailed at him, she shouted, “Gavin, duck!”

But he never reached me. When I opened my eyes back up I was startled to find that large beast pinned against the wall by a very angry looking Lucas. Only this time, Lucas’ eyes had turned completely black, on his head stood two large horns that curled around themselves in perfect spirals. His white hair falling around his face messily. His hands had formed into talons which where currently pressed against the bodyguards throat, his nails digging into the skin drawing blood. Tormund was trying desperately to overthrow Lucas but to no avail. The more he thrashed about, the bright the shade of puce he came as Lucas cut off his air supply. Before I could comprehend what was happening, Lucas’ na

"I love you, mademoiselle. I will do everything to protect you, even if it causes me to be stuck in my grave." I felt so dazed yet I eventually screamed when an arrow pierced through his arm, I step back and my eyes hasten to seek the one who did it. There, I saw the Ambers. Gohan and Timothy—on his grip is his bow and the two of them are riding their horses. "Run, Terra!" Ezekiel exclaimed and pushed me. Yet I could not move my feet as if they were stuck on the footing. "Is that why you began to renounce my presence, milady?" I heard Prince Gohan retort and they headed their way towards our direction.

“It’s tied to necromancy.” Alaric stiffened. His boots echoed softly as he crossed the room and stood by my desk, glancing down at the open pages. His voice dropped to a near-growl. “Is that…” “Maximus the Fallen,” I finished for him, eyes flicking up at his face. “But that wasn’t his real name.” Alaric’s brows pulled tight. “Explain.” I tapped the page lightly, not bothering to hide my knowledge this time. “He was a man. A necromancer. Summoned to protect the realm. He tried to close the Rifts using death magic instead of destruction. It backfired. Horribly.”

And a man stands before an arcane storm. A man with silver hair. Eyes like dying stars. A smile like a blade. The architect—alive, human, and crowned. Kael’s voice pierced her mind from somewhere distant. “Alessia! ALESSIA!” She couldn’t answer. The vision swallowed her. She saw the architect reaching toward the sky—pulling luminousness into his palm. The city trembled. The storm cracked. And Arcana fell. Not destroyed by war. Not swallowed by sea.

Arc just waved her off “Mother, please listen. Erebus is out of control. He is illegally turning humans into vampires and creating an army to kill you and take your crystal heart. If we don’t stop him now he will succeed. I have sources that located his hide out. If we surprise attack him tonig--” Arc abruptly stopped talking when Celeste stood. Her calm was long gone and lightning bolts shot through her eyes. She was mad

"I'm sorry, Chancellor. The serum cannot be stabilised without what I asked for." Dawson felt a cold line crawl down his spine. He suppressed a curse. "Do you realise what you're asking of me?" His voice dropped to a hiss. "Yes, Chancellor." Dr West's reply was clinical. "But I'm afraid that without live tissue and bone marrow samples from the first Lycans, our Hunters won't stand a chance against them." Dawson pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, mapping possibilities like a man running a marathon in his head. Abduct an Alpha, but not just any Alpha—Alpha Orion of the North.

The digital realm of the Ark-Devourer was a sensory deprivation chamber built of infinite, blinding white light and cascading streams of violet data. In the center of this sterile infinity, the Prime Architect sat on a throne of woven fiber-optics, his hollow eyes locking onto Scarlett. "A soul projection," the Architect’s voice echoed, devoid of inflection but heavy with ancient arrogance. "A crude, outdated algorithm. You think you can infect my mainframe with spiritual superstition, Anomaly?"