Female Doomslayer Novels & Stories

One vortex after another appeared. Large areas of the void continuously caved in, releasing deafening noises. It was as if the world was blasted apart at this moment, sinking into a state of doom. The white-robed banshee hovered hundreds of miles away with a grim smile on her scarlet mouth. "What about the power of the Doomsday Sword? Humph, a low-level cultivator dares to show off in front of me?" The banshee was extremely proud. But at this time, a roar suddenly came from the muddy explosion.

She unfurled her fists and golden flame burnt in them, smelling of lion’s manes and cinnamon. “Very good. You are growing strong, my Annushka.” Dmitri placed the living vines back on his antlers. Anya stared outside at the leaves falling onto the snow. “Da, who drove Morena mad? Why does she always kill Jarilo?” Dmitri’s face darkened. “Chernobog the Black. He courted Morena and she refused, instead preferring the arms of the golden god, for Chernobog is nothing but ice and shadow. In vengeance, Chernobog slipped poison from his black, rotting heart into Morena’s wine at one of Perun’s feasts, and it rooted in her brain like a worm seeking hope, or perhaps light. Once you eat somethi

"And what about the Moonbearer?" Isabella looked up, her gaze steady. "She waits. I feel her near. But she won’t move until we do." --- Across the jagged sea, within the ruins of Halemorne, Catherine knelt in a blood-drenched chamber lit by cursed flame. Her body was bare to the waist, etched with new sigils and sacrificial runes. Before her, the Eastern Seers chanted in a language older than Ember Hollow itself. A pool of crimson shimmered like glass.

One unread message on her secure, hidden account. Domica, the screen name read. Mistress. Queen. Goddess. She logged in. The interface was sleek—velvet black with deep crimson accents. The Velvet Room was an online lounge, exclusive and encrypted, where anonymity was law and reputation was everything. In this world, she wasn’t Dominique. She was Domica. Mistress of the Room. Crusher of men. Queen of pain and praise. Tonight, two subs had messaged her for a session. She scanned their bios, fingers idly tracing her lips. One begged to be degraded. The other wanted to be ignored while she humiliated someone else. They both paid well. They both bored her.

I hoped they wouldn’t be annoying; I’d never had a neighbor before. I twist the key inside the doorknob and step inside. My eyes scan the space quickly, making sure it had the basic things, a studio with a kitchen, bed, and living room. All fully furnished and relatively clean. Being a werewolf meant things weren’t ever really clean to us, not with our noses picking up every underlying scent. I shut the door behind me, dropped my backpack, and opened the duffel bag to let Blaze hop out. He looks around before looking up at me, as if asking if this was our new home. The silent question tears at my chest a bit.

She then looked at me and said, "Winter, stop blaming Finn for this. Finn was just getting mad on my behalf. It's all my fault." Hal rolled his eyes and slid his arm around my shoulders to comfort me. Then, he said in a passive-aggressive tone, "Say, do you hear barking? Oh, it's from that bitch over there. I guess Mr. Churchill is pretty fond of his bitch and just had to show her off to you." Finnegan was devastated. He pushed Colette away and headed toward me. Hal stopped him again, and they started to fight. While throwing each other around, a medical report suddenly fell out of Finnegan's pocket and landed right under my eyes. It said, "Winter Brooke, last stage stomach cancer."

Alma was wrong; these feral Alphas weren’t my helpers; they were my punishers. They were the Alphas of Doom, and I-I was their doomed mate. I understood everything now. “I-I’m being punished.” I was perhaps not the goddess’s favorite.

There wasn’t a soul left alive on that cursed mountain when that sun traveled across the sky that next morning. I traveled from town to town and village to village in those following days, and I watched as soulmates turned into enemies from their bigotry and their hatred. The betrayal of one bond had single-handedly destroyed the bonds for countless other people. The world was torn apart by fighting in and among all clans. I, Mae Shamrock, last of The Sisters of the Path Coven, bore witness to the destruction of the soulmate bond as the Soulmate Covenant was broken in 1850. I knew without a doubt that it would not be returning… UNTIL the world changed its ways…

“That man commands half the dark covens of the eastern front. If she’s joined forces with him…” “Then we’re not fighting a pack,” Axel finished grimly. “We’re facing a Dominion.” The courier nodded shakily. “They call themselves The Black Dominion. A legion of Hollow-born, dead wolves, and warlocks. They’re building fortresses in the Deadlands.” Raven’s chest constricted. The room spun slightly, but she steadied herself against the table. Malrik swore. “So that’s her play. She’s gathering the worst of both realms.”

True love and pure evil… booooom, the door opens, and we can all get out. - Very smart of you. But how am I going to do this? - I have the perfect soul for that. – Asmodeus says. The soul of a woman who killed herself after fucking her brother. She is seductive and seems pure, but she is a whore. she will enter the kingdom of the goddess and capture the soul. Your will will command your soul after taking her out of the lake. You and the soul are one, even though you are separate. Your will will prevail. She will seek out the dragon and will possess it. Not even a dragon soul can defeat your soul, Lucifer.