Faded Wraith Oblivion Novels & Stories

Everything I had tried to bury, everything the Rift had sensed and stored over the centuries, coalescing into one dark, watchful pulse. A sudden shift in the shadows drew my eyes. The Wraiths appeared, not in swarms this time but individually, tall and thin with translucent bodies that bent the light of the silver veins into fractured specters. Their eyes glowed faintly, observing, judging, waiting. “Do not falter,” Cael whispered. “They feel fear. They feed on hesitation.” I took a step forward, feeling Auren’s hand on my lower back, steadying, urging. Cael’s gaze bore into mine, molten silver, burning away the remnants of doubt. Together, we approached the pedestal.

An ancient force long whispered in prophecy, bound to Thalric’s will, had awakened. Cyrion Duskbane appeared at the edge of the courtyard, his own face pale with horror. “It is the Wraith of the Forgotten… the beast sealed centuries ago. He’s unleashed it.” Thalric spread his arms as the towering creature, forged of shadows and burning eyes, rose behind him. Its scream shattered the night, and stars above seemed to flicker as if frightened by its call. “Do you see now?” Thalric bellowed, his voice carrying through the destruction. “Stars shatter. Crowns crumble. Only those who embrace the darkness survive!”

Abigail asked the anger evident in her voice. “Also, I have kill your daughter and my brother, your son.” “Thats fucking great. Who’s your brother?” “Daniel. We are the Nephilim twins.Our father is the Archangel Gabriel.” “Awesome. This is just awesome.” Abigail said, the sarcasm thick in her tone. “I am sorry my brother put this weight on you. Ignorance is truly bliss for the human race. If everyone knew what was going on behind the curtain, nobody would ever leave their house.” Wyatt stated, shaking his head.

95) POWER LEVEL: 410,475,450,498 WIELDER TYPE: Energy Wielder; A True Spirit SPECIALTY: Unreal Vitality; Agility GLOWS: Soul Breaker; Spirit Hammer; Destructive Sucking BREATH: Revival “Oh? Revival is sealed?” Mane rubbed his chin in interest upon reading her status. His words caused some panic to flash across the Wraith’s eyes. The rage she was feeling towards Crystal was no more. There was only fear now.

The dagger cracked in two. No more tides. No more names. Just Maya. Alive. Free. --- The sea whispered: > “Story ended. Sovereign forgotten. River Witch remembered.”

I say nothing. "You were unconscious when you arrived at the hospital." I nod. "You supposedly don't remember anything." Another nod. "So why did those men call you Wraith?" My heart stops. There it is. The question I've been avoiding. I look away. "I don't know." Christian takes another step toward me. "Who is Wraith?" I force a confused expression. "Is that a person?" His jaw tightens. "You expect me to believe that?" "I don't know what you want me to say."

“So, she is part demon? One of Dante’s sprogs that slipped through the net?” “No,” Lucas leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees as a weary sigh escaped him. “Atlas and Amos don’t have wolf spirits remember? Chloe does; Hecate.” “Hecate? What kind of name is that?” “It’s the name of a Greek goddess. As far as we can tell, only the Wolfe line has a wolven spirit with a Greek name. Even Sierra and Alvaro don’t have them. So, how come she has one?” Lucas raised an eyebrow, hazel eyes darkening as the questions piled up. “I think we need to make a call.”

Finally, the central voice replied, “No. The fledgling carries their own burden. Each reaper is bound by their failures as by their oaths. They will carry this weight.” The sigil seared against Avery’s palm, pain biting deep into flesh. They gasped, clutching their hand, as the burning carved something deeper—an addition to the mark, a line of shadow curling like a scar. “Each lost soul binds you tighter,” the chorus intoned. “Lose too many, and you will become the very thing you hunt. A Wraith.” Avery’s heart froze. They looked up sharply, horror twisting their gut. “What?!”

“They’re echoes.” The first wraith lunged. I moved without thought, the rune-blade singing through the air. It met the creature mid-leap, slicing it cleanly in two. The shadow dissolved into dust but more followed. Dozens. Lucian fought beside me, his strikes slower but no less fierce. The wraiths didn’t bleed they screamed, their bodies bursting into shards of light and ash. But every one we killed reformed behind us, drawn by his pulse, his power. “They’re coming for you!” I shouted.

But now, with the drastic drop in temperature, that mist solidified, turning into snowflakes made of blood. It was a shocking sight—an eerie phenomenon. The gathered warriors fell into silence, holding their breath. Even Brantley and Waylon, proud geniuses in their own right, watched intently. The battle was about to begin. "Horseback Blade!" Draven wasted no time and unleashed one of his ultimate techniques right away. At their level, there was no need for meaningless prewarning. "Ice Spear!" Umbra harnessed the crimson snow, forging a blood-colored spear of ice and hurling it forward.