Jonathan Harker's Journal Novels & Stories

Whiskey. I was awake before the sun, and had already ransacked through the rest of the huts still standing. I found a few interesting items, some jewellery, silverware, nothing worth taking with me though. I decided to go back and search the Alpha’s house more thoroughly. The study or office space proved to be worth wild. I found another journal on a bookshelf in there. This one only dated back three generations, the first entry being date marked as 12th October 1935. He wrote about his desire to have the chosen daughter come back to them. Which confirmed my original theory, this pack have had firsthand contact with the Moon Goddess. I’m getting closer. I took this journal, and the other old

His lycan whined in agreement at his thoughts—their thoughts. He stopped tapping his fingers momentarily, "I have been able to connect my mind with Sharom for a brief moment." Jonathan eyes opened wide at the revelations but he said nothing and continued to drive as he focus his eyes on the road "I heard what she heard and saw what she saw. She was in a dark room. She was kidnapped by a blond guy but I don't think he is the master mind behind this. And their were 2 other guy with her but she has not seen their face. I could smell panic and fear. They have covered her head. I guess they are going to take her somewhere else. But I could not sense Scott at all. "

He turned to face Rhea who had been staring at him all along. “Shall we?” he smiled. They started unpacking the books from the shelves and dropping them on the floor and they looked through them one by one “How are we supposed to know which is the journal that we are looking for?” Xavier frowned, turning to face her. “Can you recognize it if you see it?” “Hopefully,” Rhea shrugged, her eyes still fixed on him. “Since he uses it regularly, it should be among the top books here don’t you think?” “If he uses it regularly,” Xavier paused for a moment. “It is definitely not on any of these shelves.” Xavier looked around the room quickly. “The journal is hidden somewhere else. Quick, look for anyt

The wind above the dungeon didn’t help my wounds at all, I covered myself with an item of clothing used by the one I strangled. I found an old hut inside Domlur and decided to go in to treat my wounds and to find an exit to this place. I sat on the ground and ripped my sleeves and tried to stop the bleeding by lightly tapping the cloth against my scraped flesh. Come to think of it, I’ve seen a lot of male werewolves but not female werewolves. I am into hunting for so long but I have never once hunted a woman. I tried to look outside; it may seem like a normal day with people walking around but this is all a façade.

Henry**** The journal felt heavy in my hands, its worn leather cover cracked with age, the Dark Moon Alpha's insignia etched faintly on the surface. My heart raced as I opened it, the musty scent of time wafting from the yellowed pages. Each word I read seemed to strip away another layer of the illusion I had built around Xavier’s father—the man I thought had been a savior to me from the Rogues. The first entries were mundane, detailing pack alliances, hunting strategies, and seasonal struggles. But then, the tone shifted. The writing became more erratic, the ink smudged as if the writer's hand had trembled.

"Unless you count a stash of condoms." "That’s suspicious," Aria shot back. "Why would he have those when he said he doesn’t do werewolves?" "Now you’re just grasping at straws," I told her. I pushed the papers aside and picked up a weathered, leather-bound journal. "Fine, maybe he’s not some evil mastermind," Aria grumbled, leaning her head back against the wall to stare at the ceiling. I didn't answer. I flipped the journal open, my fingers freezing as my eyes landed on the first page. I scanned the handwriting, then the detailed, unsettling drawings. I flipped the pages faster and faster, the blood draining from my face.

He began to recall how he'd become a lycanthrope killer. * * * Five months earlier, Jonathan was returning from a prayer meeting in the middle of the night, when his car ran out of gas, near a cornfield. He came out and began to survey the area, looking to see if he'd spot a gas station at some point. He didn't see any. He was about to give up hope and reenter his car, when he made out a faint outline of a human figure in the cornfield. Jonathan was about to call out to the person, when he saw a fright-inducing sight.

I just need to be patient, and Joe will prove the truth. I climb to my feet. I've been here too long already. I grab the photo of the baby and then, after only the briefest of hesitations, retrieve the travel journal. I'm not a coward, and anyway, I have no reason to be afraid of these things. And no Mr. Harker will convince me otherwise. . . . . . I spent far too long in the storage locker. The sun has set by the time I arrive back at the estate, and I know I'm going to have some explaining to do.

Hector's POV It had been five hours since we had last seen Jonathan or Katia. After scouting the area where their vehicle had been abandoned, we could not locate them. There was no scent, nothing more than a ghostly absence. After Maliyla fainted, Daunte and I rushed her to the hospital, and I stayed by her side the entire time, pleading with her not to leave me. In addition to me being concerned, Jasper was unable to sense Hathor. My heart was heavy with worry and fear as I grappled with the possibility of losing Jonathan, Katia, and Maliyla. The uncertainty and helplessness gnawed at my soul, leaving me emotionally drained and desperate for answers.

The remaining pages were all in that foreign language I couldn't read. The second journal was the same, mostly incomprehensible text with occasional English passages scattered throughout. It contained research notes about anomaly classifications, sketches of strange symbols, and fragments of conversations she'd overheard. It read like the work of someone obsessed, someone who knew they were running out of time. Day 94. They're going to kill me. I can feel it. I've learned too much, dug too deep. But I can't stop now. If I can just find proof and understand what House Gold was trying to do...