Filavandrel Witcher の小説・ストーリー

The first time we meet she gave off a whole different vibe. Benita had smiled...small and apologetic, like she was sorry for existing. “Of Valdris. It’s in the northern mountains. Very small, very cold and extremely boring.” “She’s being modest,” Raven said from the floor, where she was sprawled on a pile of cushions. “Valdris is where the first snow wolves came from. Her family has been royalty since before the Great Purge.” I looked at Benita. At her mousy brown hair, her nervous hands, the way she flinched when someone raised their voice. She didn’t look like royalty.

“I found dear Valencia when she was fleeing from her beloved wolf king, through the forest of your pack lands. I offered her my assistance in exchange for hers. It was the simplest bargain. I'd provide her with an escape, and I'd shield her from those who wish to harm her. I'll also make her only dream come true and give her back her beloved. In exchange, she would assist the Alpha of the Leighwen pack to overthrow the Alpha King, and in doing so, deliver you to me. But that plan didn't work, because your friends thought it was a good idea to call the witches.” I can't believe what I'm hearing. I thought Valencia went to Farris of her own volition, but all this time, that had been a plan of

making me want to rip her to bits. “I'm certain none of you here have what it takes to end a life, so I had better be on my way.” Everyone was silent. “Hello," the agent exclaimed. “Let us not waste any time, get your fucking voodoo bullshit off me.” Evelyn went closer to her. “You must think we are stupid, don't you?” The agent shrugged one shoulder. “You might not like the answer to that.” “Well, let me introduce myself to you. . . properly.” Evelyn voiced, enunciating every word. “I am Evelyn Amira Itacha, a full blooded, hundred percent b*tch filled with more magic than this planet has seen in the last eight centuries.”

“Well, lass, what is a Maclaren doing on Balfour land? Do you not know of the feud between us?” She looked down, not saying anything. He spoke in thick Gaelic, or perhaps even Dragonish. She couldn’t be certain, but her power allowed her to understand what he was saying even if she didn’t know what language he spoke. It was one of the few benefits of being a witch that was innate in nearly every magical being she had ever met. They knew how to speak languages they had never heard, likely able to read the intent behind the communication more than the words themselves. “Perhaps she is daft,” said the warrior standing on the right side of the one with the bright green eyes.

My soul still drifted around him, and each time I pressed myself against the sorcerer's face, hoping to be discovered by the sorcerer so that he could find a way to unbind me from Lucian. Still, Lucian wouldn't give up. His eyes grew more haunted with each failure, his grip on reality loosening further. "Ninety-eight witches," he muttered as we approached the latest one. "Ninety-eight failures." The ninety-ninth witch Helena lived in a remote mountain cave. Unlike the others, she didn't seem impressed by Lucian's wealth or status. "Another Alpha seeking to undo death," she said when we entered. "How tedious.She is dead, why revive her?"

I suddenly recalled when my fingers faded off like chaff. "To keep the realm at balance, saving her will cost everyone greatly but "IF" fortunately she is alive, then let your soul find rest for she successfully became the first witch as an El Devedra!" "I have cost you greatly for my will and surely I will surely repay you." Swiftly, Arakah turned over, the wind blew his gown towards his leg and he speedily laid his right hand on my head, still resting the left at his lower back waist.

My mother screamed—the correct reaction. “What the fuck?” Sara, my sister, gasped as she walked into the room and squatted next to our father. A large puddle of blood had formed by his face, seeping out from his mouth and nostrils. She pulled a dart out of his arm and smelled it. “Wolfsbane,” she said. “How ironic,” I responded. “What?” She looked at me, confusion on her face. “Well, it was his idea to use wolfsbane darts in battle. It’s pretty ironic that that’s how he dies in the end, eh?”

I scoffed, folding my arms. “Oh, mia stellina. You have your papa’s pessimistic attitude.” The trickster witch laughed softly as she got to her feet. “Stop calling me that, and don’t you dare talk about my papa, Shit Witch. Drop the act, and let’s finish this.” I demanded, ready to have a showdown to save Tiberius and do my part to end this war. “I’m not Melania. I’m Liliana Berardi, your mother. None of what you see is from Melania’s magic. This… well, it’s my magic.” She sighed. “How can I prove it to you?”

"I remember you only obtained two of them, the earth stone from the gnomes and the fire feather from the Pheonix. What about the other two?" "I already have the other two." "Oh?" Cassandra breathed. "Can I borrow your knife for a moment?" the sorceress asked. Cassandra handed her the elven knife. Vasilisa went over to the tree and began carving a circle and two triangles intersected each other. Then she cut off a tress of her white-gold hair. "Why did she do that?" Cassandra asked Owlyn. "It's actually the third element," the owl told her. "My mistress's maternal side is a Víla."

For a moment, silence settled between us and Kaela’s expression hardened again. “There’s another matter,” she said. “The witch,Lilith. And Alpha Aldric. Word from the east says the moonflower you allowed them to steal is… working. He’s healing, slowly.” I turned slightly, my gaze flicking toward the distant mountains, where Aldric’s fortress would be glittering with torchlight. “Good,” I said simply. Kaela frowned. “Good?” A small smile tugged at my lips as I reached for the crystal decanter on the nearby table. A maid had left it moments earlier, knowing better than to interrupt. I poured a dark, rich wine into a glass and lifted it to my lips.