Horcruxes Novels & Stories

It was cold—frigid, even—and it was slowly but steadily freezing her heart and other vital organs. In his mind, Danial searched the vast repository of knowledge from his inheritance and found the explanation: Miss Kirk possessed a rare condition known as the Frostborn Physique. This was no ordinary affliction—it was a unique and powerful physique that caused the body to continuously generate frost energy whenever she cultivated. The Frostborn Physique grew stronger with each cultivation session, making it increasingly difficult to control and maintain the frost energy. Left unchecked, this energy could potentially freeze her from the inside out, a slow and painful process that could ultimate

Erik rebated Croaker, looking at Professor McGonagall and starting to explain. "As I was saying, Horcruxes are soul anchors. Phylacteries. They were documented by a fool named Herpo. I say documented because the use of the items predate his works. He documented how to tear a piece of your own soul and how to bind it to an artifact, transforming it into a Horcrux. After the piece of soul is bound, the item becomes indestructible by normal means, and while the item exists, the main soul is bound to our plane. The Horcrux can also possess the item's user and suck his life force. If the life force is enough, the soul piece can then assume physical form, killing th

My foot I say to all those foolish uncultured creatures. But back to the plan... I know exactly what I'm going to do, little miss perfect aren't going to be so perfect after I'm done with her. She will be equivalent to Lilly's disfigured paintings. With a dark grin spreading on her lips, one similar to the grin the devil himself would be spotted in. The chills that run down one's spine after witnessing it would certainly crawl down your spine like a lone drop of water running down one's exposed back. •●•

Fear gripped the Horc and the rest of them. “ His aura… it's overwhelming ” Dove mumbled. Where the Horc stood under it appeared a dark rune, from that rune dark shadowy hands crawled out and grabbed its legs. The Horc struggled but it was too strong. He ran toward it and sliced through the red gemstone in its chest, the Horc wailed as it burnt into ashes.

he says dubiously, almost unsure. “...mmm. Well then, Sphinx, you’re aware of what took place at one of my docks?” Lucius’ monotonous voice slowly floats towards me. Just before I snuck out, I went through all his camera footage. From the airport to the docks. While doing so I saw the heist done by the Halcones (Spanish for Falcons). They killed the members there and stole the Scorpions’ drug shipment. I nod, “The Halcóns stole your drug shipment.” I state all-knowingly.

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.

The tongue of the maid had been collected for insidious purposes as well. The Overlord, Jackson Forger, was a man who craved power in its rawest, most vile form. He was not content with the strength and control he already wielded; he sought more, always more. The rituals he performed in the dead of night were not mere performances of dark magic but acts of pure, unadulterated evil. The blood, the organs, the sacrifices—each element was meticulously chosen for its significance in his twisted pursuit of dominance.

Just the smell of ozone and unfinished responsibility lingering in the air. Selena stood there alone, blinking at the decaying altar while water from the storm began trickling across the stone floor like it was staging a coup. Her eye twitched. Her soul twitched. Her lower back twitched because she’d landed like a sack of wet laundry. God knew she tried. She recited every spell she vaguely remembered from internet rabbit holes. “Abracadabra,” “Leviosa”—not “Leviosar,” she corrected herself mid-prayer—and even, in desperation, “Escucha las palabras de las brujas, los secretos escondidos en la noche...” while raising her hands like she was in a soap opera for witches.

Melinda ran a finger along the line and named them, steady, like an incantation at the edge of noise: “Dragon blood, the raw power, to bind the brute energy the tear bleeds. Phoenix blood, the rebirth so the seal can mend if it frays. Unicorn blood, its purity to cleanse the corruption. Basilisk blood, A poison to turn anything escaping into ash. Kraken blood, an abyssal strength to anchor us to the depths. Griffin blood, vigilance, watchfulness for the long centuries. Chimera blood, the hybrid coin that traps chaos by uniting it. Werewolf blood, it cycles and changes, to tether time to the seal. Vampire blood, an immortal blood, for endurance.” A deep, ancient red, almost black, that swallo

They emerge from a hole in the ground, a dark and menacing opening that seems to be the very gate to the underworld. The Drider, an equally terrifying entity, accompanies them. Its appearance is a grotesque blend of spider and humanoid, with a body covered in dark hair and long, sharp legs that creak with every movement. Its eyes, a bloody red, reflect pure malice and an insatiable thirst for power. Together, Drider and the Skinning of the mind are the embodiment of horror, a sight that could chill the bravest of souls to the bone.