Essence Of The Undead Legend Mga Nobela at Kwento

And worst of all Werewolves were real too. Silas was a wolf. Not a full wolf. They called him a Mutt. He had all the traits, the size, the healing, the never ending stamina, but he didn’t have an actual wolf. He couldn’t transform like true Werewolves could. It was a genetic thing. A flaw. And as a result Silas was more aggressive, more dangerous too, because he couldn’t control his urges. He was rabid.

her voice shook and from up close I could smell a stench on her. " I don't know, probably one of the things magic can't actually fix" she resorted with a bit of sarcasm behind her tone. “He's bleeding like those undead," Tessa pointed out. My brows furrowed, I placed my arm on Tessa and squeezed. “What do you mean by undead?" Tessa turned to me. “While you were fighting Kallum, some group of dead people..” " They weren't dead," Clara swallowed. “They were alive and so determined to kill us”

she taps my hand and I drop her, she holds her throat coughing “I can help you with that, in a few wheeze days the undead will see the flames and go to it and climb their way out and up, they will make up your numbers my lord, by the time the entire sky is covered by darkness, you will have your army” I laugh, the disbelief runs so deep that I can do nothing more than laugh “you say this as though you know how to take control of the undead, they are the undead Cass which means they have no soul which means they can not be controlled! They are the damned! You have open a way for them to get free and throw the world into turmoil! Even though I wish to take over! I wish to take over with order!

They had always been the children of legacy, the prophecy no one spoke aloud but everyone expected to unfold. And now—now—that same legacy curled inside her. Unasked for. Unplanned. Unwanted, maybe, by its own father. But alive. What a cruel trick. Adrain’s betrayal still stung, deep and quiet, like frostbite in summer. But the child inside her? That wasn’t a mistake. That was blood. Old blood. Strong blood. Hers. And maybe that’s what scared her most. Because what if this child inherited the worst of both of them?

"How are you enjoying your new powers?" "Would have felt more better if I didn't have to feed on blood." She laughed, "you realize you're dead, right?" He shrugged a brow, watching her calculated movements. "They call us the undead. Dead but alive. We are the intermediaries between the living world and the dead and so, we are powered by the Life source of the living. The major difference between us, blood." "I need it." "What?" "Blood. I need to drink." Lydia turned around to look at him. His fangs were out and there was the blood crazed look in his eyes.

“Sorry…Sir. The test subject also refuses to let us take its blood. We know that when it gives its blood to someone or something the blood changes the composition of the body. It adapts to the new blood; becoming something more than it was orignally.” “You’ve killed all the other test subjects, right?” The man asks while still staring down and the helpless boy sitting in the back of the cage. “Yes sir, as you’ve requested.” The man then smiles evilly. “Sir we’ve also found out that if something is close to death but is given some of the subject’s blood then it comes back to life and adapts like the others.” “Hmm…interesting, Doctor. Good work. Good work indeed.” The man tells the doctor

Even without Deya's help, she grasped the senses skillfully. And by the time they went hunting in the evening, all of her vampiric traits had resurfaced, subduing all of the wolfish traits she had maintained for 18 years. By then, the livid pink-ish tint she had as a living person (as vampires were considered as dead people) on her skin was long gone, leaving only the porcelain-like white-ish ivory tinge. Even the slightest warmth in her body had faded by then, and her heartbeat was so quiet that it could not be heard by normal ears. It had dropped to 3 beats per minute making it hard to catch even for a powerful lycan.

The darkness of the campus was oppressive, broken only by the dim flicker of emergency lights that cast long, ominous shadows. Luke moved with a purpose, his enhanced senses tuning into every sound, every movement. He started his search from the main campus building. He could hear the groans of the undead echoing faintly through the halls, their shuffling footsteps dragging against the cracked tile floors. The smell of decay hung in the air, sharp and putrid, making it hard to breathe.