Novel & Cerita Faded Wraith Oblivion

A secret path through the frost-silver trees, cloaked by enchantment and shadow. The path led to a clearing long forgotten by the rest of the world. Twelve skulls—snow-white and wolf-boned—circled a silver tree with bark like light and leaves like night. This was where she found her. Mother Noira. The pack witch. The Shaman of the White Wolves. Her skin was the color of storm clouds, her eyes blind but glowing with thin threads of violet. Runes were carved into her flesh, old magic pulsing from her bones like breath.

“I’ve waited a long time to meet you in the flesh.” Lira blocked my path, her jaw clenched, shoulders rigid. “You’re not supposed to be alive,” she said. Wraith tilted his head. “Neither are you. But here we are. Like a family reunion... except one of us brought the matches.” The others behind him didn’t speak. They stood in a loose arc, some twitching, some humming softly, all of them watching me like wolves waiting for the weakest step. I could smell the decay on them. Something about their minds had snapped and been stitched back together wrong.

Collapsing to the ground, I felt the weight of defeat wash over me, my life flashing before my eyes in a blur of fear and pain. The relentless onslaught of punches and kicks continued unabated, leaving me too feeble to defend myself. My vision blurred and my senses dulled, a disorienting haze enveloping me as one of the men motioned for the others to pause, his gaze fixed intently on me. As he drew nearer, a cruel smirk playing on his lips, he grabbed hold of me, his chilling stare piercing through me. "It seems you've meddled in affairs beyond your reckoning. Our client made it explicitly clear that you must endure excruciating agony," he taunted.

I looked him in the eyes and said, "Cyrus, some damage, once done, is done. Some trust, once broken, is broken. Some paths, once taken wrong, can never be retraced. "Your tears, your words of love, other than making you feel better, mean nothing to me. So, just go. I really need to rest." I let out a long sigh. Cyrus opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but no words came out. He left dejectedly with Florence following behind him. I called out to her, "Florence." She turned to look at me with confusion. "I'm giving him to you. Take good care of him. Don't ever bother me again."

The colossal obsidian heart, the anchor that had fueled Valerius's immortality for a century, did not just break. It shattered into millions of microscopic, razor-sharp pieces of shadow and corrupted crystal. The sound was apocalyptic. A high-pitched, structural shriek that resonated directly through my chest cavity, shattering my own biological rhythm. The massive, circular pool of necrotic black sludge directly beneath the heart instantly vaporized. The six Shadow Wraiths guarding it let out synchronized, inhuman shrieks of

She wasn't just a woman anymore; she was a flaw in our world. "The Key has arrived," her voice boomed, vibrating in our very marrow. "And she brings a graveyard with her." With a flick of her wrist, the ground erupted. Thousands of shadow-wraiths—the spirits of every Atoner ever sacrificed—rose from the earth. They weren't the "Hollowed" we had saved; these were twisted by centuries of hate. The battle was a slaughter. Silas and the Winter-Fang were being swallowed by the tide of shadows. Ronan fought like a god possessed, but for every wraith he cut down, three more rose.

We would repeat the narrative until it felt like truth, real truth Ivy the cursed. Ivy the forsaken. The omega who returns and brings death and trouble Numbers would grow Doubt would spread. And when the time came - when we were no longer five, but fifteen… twenty… more ,-- Even red eyes would not be enough to stop us. If I cannot have the Alphas -- No one will. And this pack will remember who truly belongs.....

“They disappeared.” I grip the blanket tightly, my knuckles aching. “She didn’t just take the throne. She cursed me. Every time I reach eighteen, I die. Every single time.” Martha stares at me, her expression softening with pity. “You’ve had a terrible dream, Ethan. Let’s not—” “I’ve lived it,” I snap, my voice sharper than I intended. “Six times, Martha. I’ve lived it six times, and every time, I die before I can fix it. She’s taken everything from me—my father, my brothers, my throne… Jane.”

Sashi said while continuing from writing. "Wraith? Ah, you called me once like that before. What is that anyway?" Clark ask while giving all of his attention to Sashi. "A wraith, an evil ghost. Those who died with wrong doings in life. Like that." Sashi explained. "Ahhh." They stayed like that for a while because Sashi need to finish taking some notes. Clark just observing her the whole time. "Stop staring, I can't concentrate here." Sashi said without looking at Clark.

It can't be. *** The previous day, below the city's ground... The black haired girl skipped through the falling ceiling and dead bodies. She stopped just outside of storage. Her hair swung, revealing a golden eagle with red eyes on her leather jacket. "Where are the rest?" asked someone behind her. She turned around, revealing her green eyes and tanned skin. Her short frame doesn't make her afraid despite the blonde muscular guy standing in front of her. "They're coming," she answered. "Good. Do you have any information on Victor Clyde?"