Faded Wraith Oblivion 소설 & 이야기

I moan in terror and agony, my hand slapping over my mouth as I reach for Anton, wanting to cling to him – wanting his support – The wraiths find what they’re looking for at last and grab onto it, shaking Anna as they set her soul free, pulling it forth – grey and insubstantial – from her body. The body itself falls to the ground in a heap, a dead husk, as the wraiths continue to swarm around her immortal soul. She continues to cry, sobbing and looking down at her body, as the wraiths pull her towards that black door in the center of the room.

Besides, we’d already seen each other. She seemed to steel herself before continuing. "He is the most powerful Alpha in North America. He has a perfect Luna. Soon, he will have an heir." She paused, her eyes locking onto mine. "He has everything." She didn't need to say more. I knew. She was here for the same reason she’d come seven years ago. I remembered that rain-soaked, hopeless night. The pack doctor handing me the diagnosis. Wolf Spirit Decay. Irreversible. I froze, a suffocating feeling washing over me, like I was drowning.

terrifying face. I realized it wasn't a dream. He looked intently at my waist. I was in so much pain that I fainted and didn't wake up until the next day. He threatened me, saying if I dared to tell anyone, my other kidney would suffer the same fate as this one. No wonder there were all kinds of people who couldn't move but no one ever spoke up. "Nina..." James called my name, and I stared blankly at him. I spat out a mouthful of blood.

"I thought you said you were married, Elena. Why are you here, harassing Clara again? Or should I say, you finally realized how shameful it was to be a mistress and regretted it?" Where did that come from? "Mistress? What on earth are you talking about?" Liam let out a cold snort, his voice dripping with disdain. "That Maybach you left in? It's a custom model with only ten units in the world. You really think some powerful tycoon would be interested in an amnesiac nobody like you? "I looked into it. Every major player in Zentara was already married before you even went missing. So, unless you're some rich man's mistress, what other role could you possibly play?"

she whispers, her form crumbling, her starlight fading, her body ash. The wraith’s final claw slashes Renn, his relics shattering, his scar bleeding shadow, his body still, his hymn gone. Cassia’s cry pierces the air, her fire flaring, her blade striking the wraith’s remnants, her eyes glistening. Kalia’s orb pulses, its light flooding the altar, sealing the rift, the Veil’s hymn surging, its threads weaving anew. The wraith shatters, its essence dissolving, the abyss stilling, the Veil’s starlight faint but enduring.

She moved through the field as a ripple in reality, appearing only when her obsidian blade was already buried in a specter’s chest. Vane watched in absolute, cold-blooded terror as his elite Wraiths were dismantled. These were warriors who had survived the purges of the Old Empire, yet they were being erased like ink in the rain. "Focus the Null-Anchor!" Vane roared, his voice cracking.

Tears burned Astra’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispered—to her daughter, to the bloodline, to the world. “I never wanted this for you.” The Winter Wraith’s voice dropped to a hiss. “You think this ends with you?” it sneered. “Blood remembers. Blood returns.” Astra smiled—sad, resolute. “Then my blood will be ready.” She spoke the final words. The seal completed. The Wraith vanished—dragged screaming into the Veil between worlds, bound by chains of moonlight and sacrifice.

People turned to dust, buildings crumbled, and rivers dried up. “He calls himself the Frost Wraith,” a voice echoed—Cole’s and Lila’s, woven together from the merged key. “He feeds on life itself. He’s already drained this world. Now he’s moving to the next one. To the world we just saved.” Jade’s eyes widened. “We have to go back,” she said. “We have to warn them.”