Las Reliquias De La Muerte Novels & Stories

The face was all scratched up, and anything on her body that could prove her identity was taken away, so we suspect it's an intentional murder. Hearing that the body was salvaged from Salakole, Winston paused for a moment, then he put on his sterile gloves with a poker face. I floated in mid-air, staring at the man in front of me. Three years... It had been three years since I died. After I died, my soul was trapped in Salakole, suffering in the fierce wind and freezing weather all day. Until someone found me, they brought me back. But I didn't expect that Winston was the person who would personally dissect me.

Maddox growls low inside me, he hates the noise, the crowd. Watching High Priestess Selara burn her incense, I try not to think about the vision she said she saw… the Twelve. The Moon Relic, that piece of useless rock, will one day untie this mess we’re all in. A savior, one of the Twelve, is supposed to make everything right. That only pisses me off. Because it’s the reason Elara died. The fucking reason every woman I’ve bedded to bear my pup ends up dead. The incense keeps burning, the scent thick in the air, the flames feeling like they’re seeping right into my soul. I watch the smiles, the laughter, the careless joy of my pack like a movie in slow motion.

The crowd listened with rapt attention as he explained the foundation's mission. It would provide full scholarships, research grants, and laboratory access to werewolves who showed promise in healing arts but couldn't afford proper training. The most striking feature of the opening ceremony was a special exhibition hall that had been set up for the event. Glass display cases lined the walls, each one carefully lit to showcase the treasures inside. These were all my previously unreleased research notes and healing formulas from when I was alive. My breakthrough work on curing silver poisoning was displayed prominently in the center.

After casting the Immobilization Charm, he had immediately followed up with the Concealment Charm, which left him with barely any inner energy left. Thankfully, he was certain he'd gotten rid of Leland. He'd driven three gold needles into Leland—one in his upper back, one under his ribs, and one in his left chest—all with a single purpose, which was to kill the life-bound parasite inside him. As long as the life-bound parasite was dead, the broodmancer, Leland, would die as well. Leland collapsed to the ground, his body twitching violently, struggling in the final throes of life.

"I'm sorry. I was too weak. I couldn't admit that Mom died because of the revenge they took on me." Hearing that, I finally felt a sense of relief. It turned out that Zack wasn't perfect at all. And maybe, I didn't need him at all. As I came to this realization, my soul turned transparent and began to fade away. Zack panicked instantly. He desperately tried to hold onto me, but it was no use. Before my last trace of consciousness faded away, I said, "Let's not meet again in our next life, Zack."

Her pain was so vivid that anyone seeing the photo could feel it. I suddenly felt a chill go down my spine. A wave of grief and bitterness swept over me, and I felt like I had died all over again. That day, after getting out of the car, I had fallen into a hunting trap and died on the spot—both lives were lost. I gritted my teeth and looked at Enzo. He stood there looking like he'd been struck by lightning—motionless and not even breathing. He stared hard at that photo, and his eyes gradually became more bloodshot.

I’m not dead. The memory of the heavy steel bar crashing against her skull flashed behind her eyes, sharp and white-hot. She gasped, clutching the edge of the vanity until her knuckles turned white. The phantom pain was so real she almost reached up to feel for the blood. But there was no blood. Only the faint scent of expensive jasmine perfume and the distant, hauntingly familiar sound of laughter from downstairs. Selene. The sound sent a chill straight down Elara’s spine. It was the laugh of a sister who had watched her go mad with a smile on her face.

“The full relic isn’t here. It’s in the Archive—the one under the old Synod vaults, I did some digging and I got to find out it is highly secured , blood-locked, guards that haven’t blinked since the last century. That’s where the rest of it is. The piece that can actually stabilize you, and probably keep you alive. Marcus’s hand tightened on my shoulder until I felt bone. “It’s suicide. Straight up. That place doesn’t just kill thieves—it makes examples out of them. I’ve seen what comes out of those vaults. Half the hunters who tried never came back, and the ones who did wished they hadn’t.”

The way her shoulders had stiffened in an echo of how mine had when I’d first touched the relic in Frostveil. She’d felt this before. In a vault. In a ritual. In some secret tribunal lab where they played with Lunaris scraps like they were toys. “House piece,” she breathed. “I thought— Vaelen, I thought you said the primary relic was missing.” “Missing, not destroyed,” Crowe said. His gaze on my wrist sharpened. “Apparently it found… new housing.” Calista’s eyes returned to mine, bright with something almost feverish. “It’s true,” she whispered, more to herself than anyone. “It’s not just her blood. It’s in her bones. In the… resonance. In *them.*”

"We are the Guardians. The first spirits assigned to watch over this holy place, long before the first stone was laid. We are embedded within this reliquary, waiting for the moment the rightful blood holds it in a state of ultimate need." Siron looked around. Morat was thrown against the wall like a bizarre painting, his shadow form half-unraveled. Alaric was frozen in a mid-hiss, his shadowy eyes full of shock. Priest Gideon and the young woman at the door looked like wax figures. There was no sound, no movement of wind. There was only her and the ancient reliquary, a rectangular silver box engraved with an intertwined sun and moon. What do you want from me? Siron thought with all her might