Faded Wraith Oblivion Novels & Stories

I hoped to leave our story with the last bit of grace. However, he did not even give me that chance, so I did not want that dignity anymore. Besides, what dignity was there in a relationship already broken beyond repair, soaked in betrayal and lies? It was just my own self-deception. Zach stared at me, desperately searching my eyes for even the slightest emotion. Yet there was nothing left there he recognized. There was no love, no anger, no sadness, not even hatred. His hand dropped abruptly. The ring fell to the ground, and he did not even notice.

Kaelen rasped, his mechanical exoskeleton groaning as the red fog began to corrode the titanium plates. ​From the dark waters of the bay, the first of the Blood-Wraiths emerged. They weren't shifters, and they weren't machines. They were spindly, multi-limbed horrors made of a dark, oily substance that seemed to absorb the light around them. They didn't have eyes; they had "Scent-Slits" that pulsed with a red, bioluminescent glow. ​"They're not hunting us for our Resonance," Maya said, her golden-white aura flickering as she raised a shield. "They're hunting us for the 'Zero-Variable.' They’re scavengers of the 'New-Evolution'."

The air was still cold, the temperature having dropped significantly due to the Echo Wraith. The Echo Wraith is a haunting presence within the Cavern of Eternal Echoes, a place known for its labyrinthine complexity and the disturbing resonance of every sound. It glides silently through the caverns, leaving behind a trail of maddening echoes. These echoes are warped, amplified distortions that play on the deepest insecurities and fears of those who hear them. They take on the voices of the damned, whispering hidden regrets and unconfessed sins, often blending them with a cacophony of falsehoods to disorient and unsettle their victims.

Spark yipped, her golden form trembling, the obsidian glow pulsing, the plateau’s air shimmering, the frosted shale cracking, Lila’s sketch a map to victory, the Veilshatter Echoes’ whispers a chilling song, the battle a storm. Tess’s sword gleamed, hazel eyes fierce, voice steady, her cloak snapping in the wind, the wind biting at her cheeks, but her stance unyielding, the shard’s hum a challenge she’d meet with steel, the frosted shale crunching, the plateau’s trees looming, the obsidian runes flaring, wraiths emerging from the shadows, the chasm’s walls trembling, the petrified trees glowing, her loyalty a shield, the battle a crucible, the scent of decay a chilling promise, the pack’s le

"I know this might sound stupid. But I swear I could hear it whisper my pack's name. I don't know....I was already messed up in my mind from seeing the death rates. Maybe I didn't hear properly." "You did hear properly." He stood up with the empty bowl and placed it on the center table. "It whispers the name of it's target. It did with me too. And when I put my claw through it's dark mist. It whispered my name even as if dispersed." "So it didn't die?" "Wraiths cannot be killed. It's a huge form of shadow taking a physical gait. It has no flesh or blood whatsoever. The best you can do is make it vanish."

His shadow was missing, leaving an eerie emptiness at his feet. Dizziness clouded my vision, and as my consciousness wavered, a figure materialized out of the darkness. Hayden, the enigmatic ruler of the mythological Underworld, stood before me. My eyes widened in shock and fear as I believed he had come to reclaim me, to take me back to the realm of shadows and despair.

A Wraith is a predator that has already lost everything, which means it has no fear of the dark. I stood in the center of the melting Vault, my heart hammering a frantic, uneven rhythm against my ribs. The scent of Elena’s "Anti-Matter" blade was a sharp, metallic sting in the air, but the smell coming from Dante—the raw, ozone-heavy scent of the Void-Titan—was overwhelming. The "Shadow-Heir" in his arms let out another cry, a sound that vibrated through the floorboards and made the obsidian walls bleed liquid shadow. Dante didn't pull away from the dagger Elena had buried in his chest. Instead, he leaned into it. He stepped forward, forcing the hilt against his own ribs, his eyes locked on

"And I need you to stop following me. Whatever this is, I don’t want any part of it." I hang up pulse already racing. The black card with the silver moth had stayed tucked beneath my pillow all night like some cursed thing. Around 4am I finally slipped it over and there was a number and one message. Call. No explanation or greeting, just an order I absolutely should have ignored. Instead, I called him three separate times over the course of the day, leaving increasingly pathetic voicemails explaining why I wasn’t interested in working for a terrifying tattooed gangster, most probably billionaire, who looked at me like he wanted to own my fucking soul.

I stood there for a moment, letting the night wrap around me. I should feel relieved. I should feel free. The contract was ending. I could go home. Back to my life. But I didn’t feel free. I felt sad. It made no sense. I was supposed to want this. I’d told myself this was what I wanted—to get out. To be done. But now, all I could feel was the hollow pit in my chest. Aleksander always wore the perfect mask. The successful billionaire. The polished heir. The one who took over and built something bigger. But underneath it all—there was something else. Something corrupt. Something criminal.

And scattered across the frozen valley between us and the stronghold's walls, I saw the impossible sight of Nyra's rogue faction, hundreds strong now, wolves who'd chosen her freely standing shoulder to shoulder with the ancient, silent army of Wraithborn that answered to her alone. The sky itself had begun to change, a bruised, wrong color bleeding across the horizon, and I felt, even from this distance, the same ancient wrongness I'd first encountered in the Dreadmoor pressing down on the entire valley. "The Veil," Draven said beside me, his voice tight. "It's weakening. I can feel it, the same way I felt the frost when it first took me." "How long do we have?" "I don't know," he admitted.