Harry Potter Reliquias De La Muerte 소설 & 이야기

The relic was our only shot before I blacked out or the sickness won. We hit the vault door, and Elara worked her magic with the fragment. It slid open easy, too easy maybe, but we didn’t have time to second guess. The room was huge, shelves everywhere full of glowing junk, and there in the middle on a pedestal sat the full relic, crystal pulsing like it was waiting for me, calling to the broken parts inside. My claws itched to come out, the wolf and vamp sides waking up hungry for the power it promised. I stepped forward, heart racing like crazy, the bond flaring with Marcus’s mix of hope and terror.

Sinthy blinked and shook her head. "Sorry about that. I was being overly dramatic. It's a reliquary embrocation. Created and strengthened over hundreds of centuries. She held the jar up close to my face, "is essentially the concentrated essence of dozens of legendary magical figures throughout history. The blood of Odin, a strand of hair from Samson, a fragment of the mummified remains of the sun god Ra , " "Hold on," I interrupted. "Odin? Ra? Those… were they actually real?"

I was looking at both of them oddly and noticed that the stick thingy had a very dark auras, so I asked Arram what it was. "It's a Lazarus bone fragment and mimics death, dark witches have used it since biblical times, including your mother," Arram explained firmly. I raised my brow as I watched him drop it into the glass jar and close the lid. "Why would she want me to appear dead?" Both Arram and Grim looked at me then at each other. Arram shrugged and stood and headed over towards a display case with several collected items inside. He turned, holding a stunning necklace with black and opalescent stones on it.

She was the strongest witch from her clan, and I was her powerful hybrid child, until they came. The witch who had prepared the Anthurium must have known who I was, and surely had enough grudge against me and my mother to go to that lengths. To perform such a strong potion, a sorcerer must be willing to sacrifice a decade worth of their power - for a decade they will have no power and be unable to conjure up spells and someone had willingly done that in exchange for our death. I was going to find that person, and I was going to make death the easy way out for them. I flung the dead squirrel as far as I could, and with the back of my hand, I wiped my mouth before turning slowly to Damon. A wh

--- **POV – Shadow’s Movement** The creature moved faster now — emboldened by her weakness. It sensed the power inside her, but more than that: the fracture. The girl was *cracking.* And when she broke, something older would be free. It glided beneath the reliquary floor, where the forbidden artifacts of the first Hollow Kings were kept. Among the relics: a blade of glass that never dulled, a box of sealed screams, and— —a mask. Black. Carved. Breathing ever so faintly.

I encouraged, hoping to uncover any detail that might help us understand them better. She took a deep breath, her eyes distant as if she were reliving the scenes. "I see an ancient hall, Orin. Its walls are covered with symbols that match those on the relics I found. There's a council of figures, their faces obscured, but their voices... they chant a melody that resonates with my power. And there's this man, with storm-silver hair and eyes like mine. He calls me 'child of fire and shadow' and speaks of my untamed power." The intensity of her words sent a shiver down my spine. The relics she had discovered were indeed ancient, their surfaces etched with symbols that seemed to pulse with a lif

The relic pulsed faintly in Ophelia’s hand, now quiet, almost dormant, as if content to watch what came next. “That’s not going to be a problem. I’ll just have you join the rest of your family in the afterlife,“ he said, leaning on the wall, not bothering to address her directly, he turned to the half-bloods flanking him. “Bring me the relic.” Ophelia didn’t respond; something inside her snapped. Her fingers tightened around the relic, and she backed away slowly, sliding it into a pouch tied against her thigh. The half-bloods lunged without hesitation.

He stepped between us to pluck the ring from Avery's fingers before she could slide it on. He studied it, turning it every which way, even holding it up to the fluorescent lights in the ceiling. "How did he manage that?" "Manage what?" I asked, a sinking pit growing in my stomach. "I told you my magic is based around Earth, right? Well, metal and gemstones are as much a part of earth as plants are. But what I see here is - I just can't figure out how a Necromancer could possibly produce a Witch's spell as intricate as this."

He waves my excuse away and says, “Not a problem, love. I’m used to muggles being surprised by my gorgeous face.” At first, I think he’s serious, but then I realize his reference to a popular children’s book and laugh out loud. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s it.” I joke back. Once everyone is properly comfortable, we get to the more serious matter of why we’re here. Creighton gestures to the large leather book he was reading and points to a section. “Okay, so this is what I’ve gleaned from the murder and your visions. There is a very powerful spell called the Potestatem Vitae Mortem. Loosely translated, it means power over life and death. However, this is not just to gain power over life and death b

Everyone was mesmerized by the breath-taking beauty of the chalice that glowed under the yellow light of the chandelier. Harold Hearst sat in what looked like a den adorned with many kinds of crystals, an assortment of precious stones, mirrors and vials containing colourful potions. He loved spending time in this hideout as it reminded him of a peaceful life that he once lived. He was the oldest elf sorcerer alive and also the Warlock Alpha.