Greek Mythology Ophelia Novels & Stories

Ophelia's voice sounds excited and playful. "I'm sorry, we haven't met yet. I'm Liliana, and this is my vaari, Jyrki, he's rough around the edges but a good man." Liliana cuts Jyrki off from grumbling, making Raven giggle as she takes Roan from his arms. "You're the grandfather of the Goddess of Life and Goddess of Death; I knew Adaline, I'm so very sorry for your loss." Ophelia's demeanor completely changes to a pained expression as she bows respectfully.

Ophelia was afraid that she might have even left with him if not for that one word that certainly made her a break out of her trance. "BROTHER" someone spat harshly As they both turned to see Jake standing there and for the first time Ophelia heart seen that anger etched on his face.

At the mouth of it was a curtain of water pouring down in a massive fall. “Don’t tell me that’s the exit,” the blonde shrieked. “Yeah, you don’t expect an easy way out in a world like this, do you?” I glanced at her, and she shook her head almost immediately. That was when my eyes trailed past her shoulders to catch Ophelia’s eyes but just as I had sensed, she was nowhere among her friends. I frowned and stepped past the two women in front of me. “Where’s she?” I barked in a low voice.

“My love I know Ophelia doesn’t mean anything by it. I would never do anything to hurt you. I just didn’t want her to go wandering and wake you up.” I looked back at Ophelia, "If you don't mind me asking, who is your mate?" She giggled, "It would be way funnier to show you." She opened the kitchen window, took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and started singing. It was beautiful, the notes she was hitting seemed impossible. I could understand now all the stories about Sirens and how they lead sailors to their deaths. Hearing something so beautiful would make me want to investigate it. It didn't seem to have an affect Rainn or me. Just then, we heard a crashing sound through the back of the h

Thin sunlight seeped through high clerestory windows and pooled across the keep’s audience hall, where rumors already scuttled like mice. Ophelia stood near the servant’s entrance, tugging at the frayed sleeve of her old linen gown—borrowed from Maeve at dawn. Ash dozed at her feet, tail twitching.

"This whole year, you've held her in that dungeon. You beat her. You whipped her. You humiliated her. She did not fight back, not once. Because to fight you was to fight herself — your veins held her blood. If she struck you, she felt seven times the pain. You have tortured her for a year. She never once used the Tether against you." "Then there's Ophelia. She isn't the daughter of a neighboring Beta. She is a spy from Blackmoor pack — the pack that put the curse on your line three hundred years ago. Her job, marrying into the Thorne line, was to make you destroy the elves, so that you would never find the true antidote — so that the next Alpha, and the one after, would always need treatment

"From this moment, Darius King, you shall have no control over your beast on a day like this. On the day of the Blood Moon, you shall die by your own claws. They shall pierce your chest and burst your heart. The next Blood Moon shall be your last." The goddess then turned her attention to Ophelia, once her cherished daughter. It pained her that her child had stooped so low as to mate a mortal. I stood behind Ophelia, aware of what her punishment would be. "You shall conceive a child. A child that will bring you immense pain. You shall carry that child for four years, and those years will be filled with misery. Ophelia, four years from now, you shall conceive Mávros in the form of a mere mort

I stared out the small window, watching the trees blur past. “Dorian mentioned Ophelia once,” I said finally, breaking the silence between us. The words came out flat, almost detached. “Before he faded. Just her name. Nothing else.” Iris turned her head toward me. I kept my gaze on the passing forest. “Gabriella saw things. I see things. Ophelia was supposed to be here instead of me. If the dead chooses their messengers, would they have chosen her instead? And if Dorian knows her name — what does he know about where she is now?”