Helleborus Onyx Odyssey Novels & Stories

Like sweet peaches and freshly cut roses. A lazy smile spread on my lips, “You smell like the forest in the winter. Similar to an icy pine. It’s refreshing.” Onyx hummed in contentment, leaning down onto his elbows, ‘You need to heal before we mark you. But don’t take too long, tiny. I’ve been locked away for what feels like a lifetime, and I’m starved of you.’

I breathe, carefully taking them with both hands. His smile is soft, proud. “I hoped you’d like them. I grow them in the greenhouses the witches maintain. They're called hellebores. That one’s Fire and Ice, and the other’s Onyx Odyssey. I figured you’d want something different—something no other guy’s ever given you.” I grab a vase from the cabinet, fill it with water, and place the flowers inside. Then I turn, walk up to him, cup his face in both hands—and kiss the hell out of him.

Orion’s voice sounded again: “Stand ready. In silence, we wait. When morning comes… we will show them the strength of our bond.” We held our breath in unison, a single moment stretched into eternity. The wind picked up, carrying a faint roar, distant, like the rumble of an approaching storm. I opened my eyes and saw Henry touch one of the runestones. It glowed brighter, pulsing with the energy he had woven. I touched my own wrist, feeling the faint hum of Elijah’s gift, the Wolfsbane tincture that sharpened my senses. I could taste anticipation on my tongue.

“The heart of the nexus. The loom’s source.” Jessica stepped forward, the hollowness pulsing in sync with the orb’s rhythm. “It’s… calling me,” she whispered, her glow flaring, weak but defiant. The orb pulsed, and a voice—not a whisper, but a chorus—echoed, layered with every weaver’s tone yet wholly new: *“Jessica, heart of the nexus, come. See your truth.”*

Each one radiates something different: Heartwood Emberroot hums with deep sorrow and embered hope. Ashbane carries the ache of betrayal, the weight of endings. Mireblossom pulses faintly, echoing my heartbeat. Lunacrown Thistle stings even from a distance, sharp, and proud, refusing to be tamed. Solstice Veinleaf is cold and impossibly bright, like moonlight on snow.

Naoko swiftly settled into her mecha, eager to test out the theory she had in mind. The mecha pilots flew towards the bunch of trees that has Honeytrap crawling up its trunks. Honeytraps were a kind of creeper plants that was full of huge leaves along its thick vine-like stalk. Several bright red flowers bloomed along its stalk as well but beneath some of the flowers there were jug-like pockets well-hidden among the leaves.

I spoke to myself, my throat aching with every word, but it felt good to vent. “You are absolutely correct,” a woman agreed as she walked towards me. She was gorgeous, she was wearing a red halter top and floor length red and black skirt, her hair was braided over her shoulder framing her sharp features and her eyes which swirled pink and purple and were otherworldly. “Who are you?” I asked. “I am Hellebore, also known as Lazarus’s mother.” “You’re his mom? You look so young.” “Thanks dear, that’s immortality for you. Anyway, I came by to see how you are feeling. Do you need anything?”

It was part of a larger conspiracy, one that threatened to unravel everything she held dear. Elona adjusted the hood of her cloak as she made her way through the bustling market in the heart of the city. The air was thick with the scent of spices and herbs, the chatter of merchants mingling with the occasional call of a hawker. Her sharp eyes scanned the stalls, searching for the rare ingredients Master Fu had listed. “Black hellebore… nightshade blossoms…” she murmured, clutching the parchment tightly. The antidote required precision and speed, and she could not afford to fail.

A ladder leads me up to another cabin that is lined with everything that I need. Careful not to touch her tools, I grab the herb I need. Lupinus Oreganus. I grab one of the stalks and crush the flower in my hand. Grabbing Ariella's knife from my hip, I slice my palm open and press the herbs to the open wound. It's quick and dirty, but I need to see Hekate urgently.

And in that reserved space, my fingers hovered over a piece of fabric, white and worn from so many nights of touch, draped over an obsidian hanger like a relic. Dahlia’s uniform. I plucked it off the hanger and felt the soft material in my fingers. My eyes fluttered to a close as I brought it up to my nose and inhaled deeply… that scent… a mixture of strawberries and some strange flower that triggered something in the farthese points of my memory. Intoxicating… maddening, fury inciting. “If you keep doing that you will bring damnation upon yourself much sooner, it will only cause your obsession to grow stronger,” Orion commented.