Legacies Necromancer Actor Novels & Stories

he went quiet except for the swallow of whiskey. "Draven, the Dean at the school, he's one of them, he's got every camera in the place linked to his office," I said, glancing up at him as the tension in his jaw tightened. "He's the one that tried to unravel the cloaking spell before the alligator, he's a necromancer, and he likes to fuck with other peoples spells." I offered with little explanation.

Each tick of the clock only reminded her of how alienated she felt—not just from her roommates but from the entire Green Valley experience. Packing up all her stuff and getting ready to call it a night, Gabrielle could bearly open her eyes as they fell swollen and as if they had sand on them. Standing up she had only took two steps from her chair then…she collided with a hard chest. “Ow,” she muttered, rubbing her shoulder, looking up to find the last person she expected. A smirk lit up Damian Morgan’s face, Green Valley’s notorious bad boy, known for his rebellious streak and disdain for authority. Rich, reckless, and undeniably charming, Damian embodied everything Gabby found objectionable

Then walked across the room to sit on the recliner. “Wh… what are you talking about my mission? And you still haven't told me who you are and why are you here?” Ahnyla asked, walking over to the bed and grabbing her pup protectively. “My name is Dravin I’m the head of the Necromancers. Some call me the Deathmage, Bone King, or Shadow Master, you can call me whichever you prefer.” Dravin said as he relaxed in the recliner. “A Necromancer? What do you want with me?” Ahnyla said still holding her pup protectively, she had no idea what the Deathmage wants with her, but she knows whatever it is can't be good. “Oh, I don't want anything from you, I just need you to get something or rather someone

Leo pointed his tablet toward the recess, its amber light cutting through the grey spray. Noah swept his carbine barrel into the darkness. The beam of the weapon's tactical light caught a pair of heavy leather boots half-submerged in the swirling grey brine. Slumped against the reinforced concrete foundation of the trench wall sat Matteo De Luca. The old syndicate patriarch was a ruin of flesh and bone. His heavy woolen coat was soaked through with dark brine, his face carved with deep, raw lacerations, and a dark stain bloomed across his left shoulder where a heavy-caliber round had shattered the fabric of his shirt. Yet, despite the catastrophic trauma, Matteo’s dark, predatory eyes remain

Dozens of them. Almas. Nyxes. Even one that looked like Lena, young, fierce, eyes like knives. “Dear God” Lena whispered. Roman muttered, “This isn’t science. This is necromancy.” And at the far end of the lab stood Lucien. He wore a crown of neural wires, plugged into a mainframe that throbbed with energy. “You made it,” he said, voice amplified. “Just in time to witness your own extinction.” Alma stepped forward. “Why? Why keep building more of me?”

At our engagement party, Michael walked on stage hand-in-hand with a pregnant woman. In front of all the high-society guests in the room, he called off our wedding. “Chloe is carrying my heir,” Michael declared. “I won’t let her suffer. You, you can stay as my side chick.” The crowd erupted into laughter. Michael’s friends cheered, passing cash around. “Told you!” one snickered. “That desperate loser won’t ever leave him. I won the bet!” “Everyone knows she’s a broke nobody. Without Michael, she’s nothing.” Michael handed me a black card with a smug smirk. “Be good, and I’ll still take care of you.” I looked at his arrogant face and almost laughed out loud. Yes, I gave up everyth

"It's long overdue, but I'm finally acting my age. Let's be carefree and young together, Zeke." "I don't know about you, Mare, but it's too late for me. Can you guess how old I am?" I gasp. "Are legacies supposed to be immortal, like vampires?" Zeke stays silent, and I release another long gasp. He's trying his hardest to keep a straight face, but now I'm genuinely curious. "Legacy werewolves can stay alive forever." "Will that make you..." I trail off while counting wide-eyed with my fingers. "Three—four hundred years old!"

“That’s impossible.” The screen flickered. Then displayed a single sentence: You saved the children. Another line appeared. But can you save the future? Adrian’s voice hardened. “Trace it!” “I’m trying!” Lucas’s fingers flew across the console. “Signal is piggybacking quantum noise. There’s no fixed source!” The screen went black. Then one final message surfaced: Legacy is not a person. It is an idea. Elena stared at the words, heartbeat steady. “Victor,” Adrian muttered.

The necromancer smiled, “Let’s say, I’m the descendant of the very same Reive Eridanus Castro-Firel. In our family, we have a history of using the same names. For many years I lived alone on an estate far away from the capital. Our family has never appeared in public because the surname Eridanus is notorious. But that didn’t prevent me from inheriting some of the Undead King’s old invocations. Although, of course, no one can compare for magic with my great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather.” He knit his brows and stuck out his chin swaggeringly, nodding his head to confirm his last words. But it appeared quite clearly to me that the corners of the necromancer’s mouth were twitching,

The only thing you ever inherited was your mother’s cruelty. The whole place went silent. I could feel the tension charged between us like electric waves. Camille looked like she had seen a ghost, her expression stuck somewhere between shock and pain. ‘Liora,’ Helena whispered, already rising as if to hit me. Camille dashed out of the room, her sobs following her. Helena became confused between going after her daughter or hitting me. She later settled on going after her daughter, leaving me alone with my father’s corpse. ‘We’d want to wheel him to the morgue now,’ the nurse said to me in a calm tone.