Hephaestus Legacies Novels & Stories

Everyone, except me. "He was a friend, a husband, a father," Dad continued. "And a necromancer of priceless ability. Caleb Manser, the sixty third Head of the Manser Family, will forever be looked upon as an Elder of our Quadriad, and a great man. May the Great Ones take care of his soul."

‘Still, sentiment aside,’ another executive chimed in, ‘do you really believe the Bennett brand can survive without being absorbed completely? There was a pause, before Sebastian replied. ‘Survival isn’t about legacy. It’s about efficiency,’ he said to the man. My fingers tightened around my wine glass. This was my father’s life's work. I needed to say something. I put down the glass gently and cleared my throat. ‘Absorption would be a mistake,’ I spoke clearly. All heads turned to look at me, and I felt Sebastian stiffen beside me. But I didn’t care; I had to do what was needed.

In the center sat a hulking, silver-hulled transport ship—a Legacy Asset from the era before the Dragons disappeared. Vance was standing at the primary fuel terminal, the silver tuning fork in his hand. He wasn't trying to steal the ship. He was trying to Delete the Fuel Map. "Stop, Vance!" Xander’s voice echoed through the hangar like a physical strike. The Grand Elder turned slowly. He looked older, more haggard, but his eyes were burning with the zeal of a man who believed he was the only one left to save the "Original Version" of his race.

The first time Lyra escaped the phrontistery at Crescent Pack shealmost got lost. A phrontistery was a place where high ranked young werewolves schooled. There was only seven phrontistery in the world. One located in each continent. Lyra’s pack, the Moonstone pack, was situated in West Virginia, United States, North America. The Crescent Pack was the pack in North America that had a phrontistery. It was located in New York, United States, North America.

“Death would have been a kindness.” I raised an eyebrow. “You think so?” “Yes.” “Is this the scarlet letter story?” one of the guys asked. I groaned. “No, wrong century.” I heard Christopher mutter something under his breath. I looked at him and had to fight not to laugh. “Hephaestus wasn’t interested in killing his wife or the man she’d lain with,” I started. “He wanted to embarrass her. Humiliate her. He probably thought no one would believe him. He needed proof. How would he get proof?”

“You are the one who doesn’t belong here.” He chuckled, his eyes glinting dangerously. “Oh please Skyla. You’re clever, yes. Resilient, I’d give you that. But you’re not ready for war. You’re not even armed. You think this is about family. About revenge. But this.... all this is about legacies. Legacies are protected with blood.” I took one step closer to him. “And you think you can scare me into submission?” “No,” he muttered gravely, stepping back. “I won’t scare you into submission. But I think I can remove the problem.”

“No. I never wanted the throne. Thrones are heavy. They come with obligations. Traditions. People watching.” He took a few steps forward, until only a few paces separated us. “What I want,” he said softly, “is legacy. Control. A dynasty that doesn’t die with one strong heir.” “And for that,” I said, “you started building monsters.” “They’re not monsters,” he said. “They’re iterations.” He circled me now, hands clasped behind his back. “You were a marvel,” he said. “A wolf born of human blood, stronger than every purebred before you. Imagine if we could do it again. Perfect the formula. Create bloodlines not just with teeth—but purpose.”

But I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw clenches every now and then. “Still holdin’ onto some shit about your brother?” I ask, keeping my tone casual. Legion glances at me, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Legacy’s lost himself. Whatever he’s gotten involved in, it’s not about family anymore. He used to care, but now? Now he’s wrapped up in this… this need for power. And he’s willing to burn everything down to get it.” I grunt in acknowledgment, but my thoughts keep drifting to Zane. The name is like a knife twisting in my gut, but I don’t let it show on my face. I’ve gotten real good at hiding that kind of pain.

“The Legacy is not simply blood. It is the ability to create something the Hollow cannot understand.” “What?” “An ending.” Asterion looked at him. “Explain.” “The Hollow consumes. It remembers. It transforms. Everything it touches becomes part of itself. Legacy is the opposite. It allows something to exist beyond the one who created it.” My eyes remained on Caelan. “A child.” “A child is one expression of it,” Eamon said. “But Legacy is larger than blood. It is the ability to choose what comes after you.” I understood. The first Keeper had not hidden three pieces of a weapon. He had separated three aspects of existence. Name gave identity. Memory gave knowledge. Legacy gave continuity and ch

He took a step closer, his gaze locking onto Davidson’s with an intensity that felt physical. “Legacy is not about blood. It is about choice. It is about vision. It is about finding a mind that can comprehend the architecture of what you’ve built, and a will strong enough to not just maintain it, but to expand it. To evolve it.” The breath whooshed out of Davidson's lungs. The hints, the grooming, the new lessons—all came together into a single, mind-reeling, exhilarating point.