Lictorica Novels & Stories

Peterson concluded. Lucian's grin widened, a sinister gleam dancing in his eyes. "That sounds like the symphony of total annihilation. Yet, my friend, you are mistaken. It won't be solely vampires and werewolves united in this battle. The witches, too, have aligned themselves with our cause. Eric Damian is destined to meet his end, and with it, I shall reclaim the love of my life," Lucian proclaimed, his voice resolute and tinged with an unyielding determination.

The elixir had worked rapidly and cured the ill before they join the departed. Lucian had heard the story from his mother a million times in his fifty Lecanther years, and he still believed it sounded an awful lot like they had something to do with the plague attacking only shifters in the first place, but no one listens to him anyways so he kept shut about his theory.

A minute later Rodrigo dragged the big olive green canon and Pete's eyes widened with fear. "So, the godfather dies like this..." Blair said as she gestured Pablo to remove the tape from Pete's mouth. "What are you going to do? Don't do this!" he pleaded in fear and Blair seemed to stay impassive. Expressionless. Tough. Arrogant. These were the words to describe Cliterella...she is called by this name for a reason. "Isn't it amazing that one tiny egg and one tiny sperm can make one massive twat?" she spoke in a mocking tone and the man didn't answer.

' The witch gave a low chuckle, 'Get off your Alpha high horse Kaiden, your Luna is a unique hybrid, the Solar Lycan and she is Blessed by the Moon Goddess herself because deep inside her there is a shard of moonstone. That means she contains the magic of the Moon herself but it is such a small part of her it will only manifest when she feels scared or threatened. The trouble is, that magic is so powerful, hence her little demostration, anything and anyone in her sights will be destroyed. You must harness that power Lycan Alpha, link it to you through your bond because if you do not...'

The physician sighed quietly and stepped back. “You already know what this means.” Lucian’s eyes darkened slightly. “You need to find your Vitali,” the physician said firmly. “At this rate, you may not have much time before you lose control.” Lucian clenched his fist, “I know” The physician walked toward a shelf and paused. Then he opened a hidden compartment. From it, he brought out an old script. He placed it on the table and opened it carefully. “The Moon Lycan is rare,” he began. “Very rare.”

She didn’t know whether to scream or faint. The director’s face twisted in anger and humiliation. “B-But Liora scored 910...” “Incorrect,” the courier cut in. “That must be an error....that doesn't look like the correct list. The correct score belongs to Scarlet. The Lycan himself has made gained special interest in the top scorer, Scarlet and he says he could recognise her now, is that funny?"

A silver chalice rested upon a wooden platform just beneath the steps. "You will adapt quickly,” Arito said, and a lump slid painfully down my throat. I didn’t like the direction this was taking. He opened the wooden box carefully and placed it atop the structure between us. Then, from the black suitcase, he retrieved a sharp ceremonial dagger. I flinched immediately, my heart lurching violently inside my chest. "You shiver like a cat drenched beneath the rain,” Arito remarked calmly. I stared at his wrinkled face and streaks of gray hair in horror before quickly turning my gaze back toward Alpha Dreadlock.

Freya had her cornered as she stopped right before her, a blade of ancient spellwork that Charlotte had gifted her pulsing in her hand, while Torin stood beside her—quiet, still, brimming with fury. The battlefield around them was a war zone of shattered chains, vanished monsters, and heaving breaths. But in that moment, all eyes were drawn to Elira, because the witch looked like she had a lot to say. She looked up at Torin first. “You think you’ve won, Lycan prince?” she rasped, her voice trembling like glass about to break. “You don’t even know what you are.” Torin only stared. Freya’s breath caught.

“Stay with me, Kalia.” The construct’s claw slashes, grazing my shoulder, pain erupting, my vision blurring, my mortal strength waning. Kalia’s orb pulses, her hymn fierce, a radiant beam striking the construct, cracking its core. “For Aelys!” she shouts, her aura flaring, her stance unsteady. I channel the relic, its starlight merging with my hymn, Lena’s spark burning, my voice a mortal roar. “Veil, bind!” The construct staggers, its hymn faltering, its form fracturing, void-energy dissipating. The group converges, their relics flaring—Cassia’s fire, Renn’s dim radiance, Maddox’s shadows, Sylvara’s vines, Lysara’s frost, Theryn’s light, Zorath’s spark, Valthor’s starlight, Lirien’s tablet,

The chant grew louder. Older. The kind that had been outlawed by every pack after the Blood Moon Wars. “Astrid Woods,” Lucian intoned, “vessel of the Luna’s Echo—” I tackled him, slamming him into the ground. “SHUT UP!” He kicked me off with inhuman strength—far stronger than a normal wolf. His eyes glowed silver. He had already been marked. Not by the god— but by Lilith’s rites. By witchblood. He shoved me back with a force that knocked me into a tree.