Lanes Arcane Novels & Stories

"Oh, heads up about the teacher." "The teacher?" "It's Stan." The one who’d wanted to skin me alive at Aaron’s welcome back party. "You're kidding me." "Nope." "Great. What's the bet he offers me a one on one?" "Nah, he wouldn't off you in front of witnesses." I rolled my eyes. "You're so sweet and reassuring." "It runs in the family," He said dryly. We headed back to the main Cavern and took the tunnel directly opposite to the one that led to the kitchen and water caves. This hall was free of side rooms and had a slight upward curve to it, before opening out into a level room the size of a barn.

To walk straight in first so they would be the first ones to deal with the consequences beyond this door. “Go on,” Mabel prompts. Finally, Lila turns and pushes the door open, but doesn’t immediately walk in. Beyond, is a stairway going down into a pit of darkness we can’t see through. Esme takes a shuddering step backward, unnerved by the darkness, while Mabel steps forward curiously, clearly not worried about what might beyond. “It’s not too late to turn back,” I remind them, hoping the would heed my advice and we would all head back to the sleeping quarters to forget all about this.

I didn’t know about farm animals and growing crops and could care less. We had a brief visit from the council witch Angel last night. She asked if we needed anything and we said a witch would be pretty damn handy with all the back and forth. So she gave us a warlock named Evan who was studying under her relative. We were going to get him a couple hours a day a few days a week.

Deep attraction has been drawn to him. My name is Annabel Ferrars. And I'm the Luna of Blood Moon Pack, as well as the Queen Of The Rogues. This is who I am.

Stumbling back, I crouched down, ready to attack, “What in the name of Loki are you doing? Go now before I change my mind and kick you, sorry little ass!” Arcane stood between us, blocking my view of her, and his eyes bored into mine. His fingertips had turned to long black talons, and almost black eyes focused only on me. Why the fucking hell did his beast interfere in this!?

Naturally, this duo was the Arcane Summoner Mistaken Fox and his summoned creature, the Stone Axe Minotaur. Unlike his usual style of combat where he is on the front lines, Mistaken Fox was now standing at a distance, chanting continuously in an unknown language while the Stone Axe Minotaur was on the front lines, tanking the damage and occupying the attention of all five orcs. As the orcs struggled to deal with the Stone Axe Minotaur, Mistaken Fox kept launching arcane missiles in their direction, dealing large amounts of uninterrupted damage. This kept going on for three minutes before all five orcs were unable to withstand the missile barrage and finally succumbed to their injuries.

After the Inferno Guild, the next announcement came from the capital's physician's office, Arcane Sanctum. They had sent various precious medicinal herbs, including a century-old rare herb and snow lily. Following Arcane Sanctum was the Tideborn Guild, which also sent rare treasures. Among them, Mystic Pearls were the most prized. They seemed determined to outdo the Inferno Guild, delivering three jars of Mystic Pearls, along with a variety of gemstones. Their offerings filled three entire boxes.

Meena quipped back to me. As we were debating on what are we going to do. Marcellus opened his eyes and started to snarl, roar and contort again. Tendrils of black magic were flaying, flashing and meandering through his body as he thrashed, screamed and roared “Sanguine” and “abyss” repeatedly. “Sanguineabyss is the fifth subrealm of Wengarthria, Aralyn”, Meena told me.

But it was the light that blinded me. A searing, lunar white was erupting from her palm, a pillar of radiance so pure it felt like a physical weight against my eyes. Opposite her, the nightmare had ended in the most grotesque way. Laura lay slumped against the far wall, the obsidian fur of the Arcanum melting away, receding back into pale, shivering skin. But there, etched into the center of Laura's forehead, was a matching mark a silver crescent that pulsed with a dying, rhythmic glow, synchronized perfectly with the light in Lyra’s hand. The Lycanis Arcanum, the god of the hunt, hadn't just stopped. It had chosen. It had bowed.