Horcrux Novels & Stories

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't get to know you. I'm sorry you died alone. I'm sorry for everything." I reached into the chest and touched the bones. They were cold. But beneath the chill, I felt something else: paper. I pulled it out. A scroll, ancient and yellowed, sealed with wax that cracked at my touch. My hands trembled as I unrolled it. The script was archaic, predating my father, the Council, anything I had ever encountered. Yet, I could read it. "The blood of the First Wolf cannot be destroyed. It can only be passed. From parent to child. From generation to generation. But when two half-bloods unite—when the broken blood joins with the broken blood—the First Wolf is reborn."

Outside, Hecate’s scream of triumph turned into a screech of agony. The violet light coming from the coffin wasn't steady. It was pulsing. Like a heartbeat. "What's happening?" Aradaa gasped. "The Alpha's seed," Kaelor whispered. "It’s a virus, Aradaa. My magic doesn't siphon. It infects." The obsidian lid began to crack.

The kind of specialized knowledge that most doctors never encountered, that required study beyond standard medical training. But my mother had taught me well. Her journals had covered techniques that weren't in textbooks, methods that existed outside official pack medicine. *Identify the curse type based on the following magical signature: dark purple residue, three-point binding pattern, deterioration beginning at extremities...* I recognized it immediately. Blood curse, council-level work, designed to cause slow organ failure while appearing natural. The same type Marcus Thorne specialized in, according to Vera's information. I wrote out the identification and treatment protocol in careful

he demanded, his voice a low, predatory growl. "It's not a 'where,' your Majesty," the crone said, pointing to a dusty, velvet-covered box on her counter. "It's a 'what.' And to destroy it, the last McKinnley is going to have to bleed." The Crone’s shop felt smaller now, the walls pressing in as the gravity of the ritual took hold. The air was thick with the scent of bitter almonds and copper.

And froze. A male crouched by the low, crackling fire—dark hair tousled from the wind, worn leather jacket hugging broad shoulders, horns curved elegant and deadly sharp like polished obsidian. Those red eyes fixed on me with pure, unfiltered venom, glowing faintly in the morning light. Azrael. The incubus.

I needed to know what we had to do. “Roxy is very talented in lets say potions. She is the best healer in the kingdom. I trust her with all the lives in the Kingdom. She smelt the poison. She doesn’t even know the name of it. It is hard for someone to get all the ingredients. Someone is really out to hurt your mate, Derek. You have to have the blood from an original vampire and Fae, then it needs to be cursed by a witch. Rox said it is ancient, very dark magic and that it has been in her system from around the time she was kidnapped. It sends the person crazy. Slowly taking their soul till there is nothing left but an empty, lifeless zombie. She will try to kill anyone in her way, then herse

What comes out of the opened door are two enormous males that I am familiar with, Alarick and Convel. “Now, time to speak.” Alarick closed the door and both of them sat on the edge of the bed. “About what?” I am still clueless and nervous, but I will not let my nervousness get in the way. “You being a sanguis,” Convel answered. I tilted my head and looked at them suspiciously. “What is sanguis? We do not have that in the human dictionary.” They exchange glances before looking at me again. “You remembered nothing last night?”

But was it the happy ever after for the royal kingdom and people of Hamster? The dead body of Otaku was found by some Aghoris who passed by the way. They were experts in practice of black magic and sorcery. With their evil powers they brought Otaku alive. For the wickedness he nurtured in his body and blood, Otaku became a master in Tantrism. He is now no more a human who has life principled to birth and death but a vampire, a sex hungry beast and a lust filled addict who had mastered on sorcery.

Kill after kill, life after life, death before death, like an Ouroboros, an eternal and vicious circle and yet an electrifying feeling to Count Dracula, the dragon. Alex unlocks the door and walks into the room, her gown expressing her curves but there is no one to appreciate it except the beast and his victims. Dracula’s clothing is covered in blood, his face and hands are drenched in the blood of the scientists. He drops the last of the dismembered scientist as he sees Alex, “Get someone to clean this place up,” she gives a slight bow as Dracula walks out of the room. She checks to make sure she is alone, she goes to one of the computers and plugs in a flash drive and she downloads informa

Trix refused to roll her eyes at the obvious displeasure his voice held. Rexus was Sapphire born and despised Crimsons. More importantly he was a cold blooded killer, who took pride in his kill. The Crimson Princess and a few Crimson Knights would surely boost his fame and the stench of fear that would go well with his name. He gently took the princess’s soft hand in his rugged palms and kissed it. Her personal guards tensed, their leather coated hands on the hilt of their swords. Trix watch the exchange with curiosity, in a strange way wishing that they would start a fight. Her wish came through when Rexus slipped a ring from the princess’s hand and the sound of metal scraping against metal