Novel & Cerita Ghostwalker Series

A map was stretched across the stone table, and on it, seven different locations had been marked. "We’re tracking confirmed awakenings," Xander said. "Girls, mostly. One or two young men. All under twenty. All with no apparent bond, no scent, no shift." "Hollow-Blooded," I murmured. Xander nodded. "And they’re not all peaceful. The one from Haleth she killed an elder before setting fire to the pack house." "What about the one from Grayharbor?" Rafael asked. Dahlia answered. "She vanished. Left a message burned into the grass: We are not mistakes."

Then the walls came to life. Paintings—dozens of them—etched in blood and bone, lit up with ghost fire. Each one a moment in time. The fall of the Ghost Den. The rise of the Deathbound. And at the center—me. Or… someone who looked exactly like me. Kelvin moved closer, jaw tight. “That’s not you… is it?” I stared at the figure. Same silver eyes. Same white hair. But her expression was colder. Cruel. “She’s the first Ghost Wolf,” I whispered. “My ancestor. Or maybe… something more.”

He had traded our location, and the fragile existence of the unborn Heir inside my womb, to secure his own survival in the new Regency world order. "White ghosts," I whispered, the words freezing in my throat as the dark perimeter of the chamber began to bleach. The escalation was an instantaneous, blinding invasion. From the fractures in the data walls, thousands of high-frequency, sterile pale figures materialized—the specialized extraction avatars of the Sovereign executioners, known across the sectors as the "White Ghosts." They didn't use crude force; they deployed a systemic white-out protocol designed to bleach and erase any corrupted data in the mainframe.

And then, she saw them. Figures. Not humans, and not wolves. They moved with a jagged, insect-like grace along the vertical faces of the canyons. They were draped in rags the color of dried blood, and their eyes—wide and pale—did not reflect the light. They were the Glass-Walkers, the descendants of the scouts who had been abandoned in the canyons during the Great Drought. "They're not attacking," Mara whispered, peering through a brass telescope. "They're... following us. Like a funeral procession."

The laboratory didn’t just smell of chemicals; it tasted of ancient rot and artificial lightning. As the Ghost Wolves—those twitching, violet-veined abominations of my father’s desperate making—scrambled out of their shattered glass coffins, the temperature in the room plummeted. They didn’t move like the wolves of the Roux pack. There was no grace in their limbs, no ancestral intelligence in their eyes. They moved with a jerky, stop-motion horror, their bones snapping and resetting with every lunging step, as if their bodies were rejecting the very muscles that drove them forward.

One of them briefly glanced at the shadow of his own body. “The Wrinkled Ghost follows us,” he warned the others as he continued running. They all glanced at the shadows of each other's bodies, which looked odd and too solid to be called shadows. However, that didn't stop their steps at all. The Wrinkled Ghost usually just acts nosy and likes to hide in the shadows of humans with bad intentions.

“The boss owns most of this mountain. I can’t think of a place close enough for the boy to go to with those fish. Not unless we have squatters. If so, the boss ain’t going to be happy.” “Perhaps we should tell Mike of this. He should know if there are squatters or at least send some men to investigate.” Jackson nodded and offered his arm for her to hold while they made their way back up the path toward the camp. Things were just not adding up. Once again, he felt that eerie chill up his spine. Memories of the skeletons of the murder victims filled his head. He was eager to get back to the ranch and away from that creepy place.

He could feel Malison run up towards him as the trees began to shake with violent tremors. The scents of the presence of other wolves and vampires around filled their nostrils, causing them to search with their mindlinks to know exactly where they were. Then a moist odor invaded as an ethereal presence circled them, slowly appearing to float above the trees which then tilted and moved at a perfect pace, along with the wolves. It was then that they saw the scuff of something on the ground, the scuffed shape turning into something that moved towards them, and dragged them to the edge of the forest as a huge black wolf, enormous and with an incredibly thick coat of long black hair circled their

I waited until I heard the cell block door close before turning around. “Now,” I told the guard. “It has to be tonight.” There were two realistic options the hunters could pursue. One was to move us, and the other was to sit and wait for the ambush. If they moved us, who knows how long it would take to restructure the plan. If the plan was to wait around, they wouldn’t be prepared as early as tonight. He didn’t say anything in return, just a nod and his eyes glazed over. I looked over to Danica. “I’m a Wulver. That’s why I can hide my wolf and silver doesn’t affect me. My mate is also the alpha of the Snow Moon Pack.”

" Please, let us kindly exercise the patience we have been putting up for a while now. " Everyone nodded in agreement and their small chats continued for a while. But while the talk continued, their ears began to capture the little traces of what started as tiny whispers coming into the hall . It was not normal. But then, everyone of them had the super abilities to hear beyond the noise surppressors that lined the whole hall. The whispers were beginning to grow into what could be alled slight minute. " Can you hear that?" The alpha of blood river asked . " It should be coming from outside." Alpha of the Crest moon pack replied.