Lordofthemysteries Novels & Stories

“There are forces here that will not welcome you waking up… but for now… you are safe.” Alexander let out a shaky breath, his chest rising and falling. He looked at the lodge in the distance. He could feel the elders inside, the whispers of the pack, the watching and judging. But for the first time, a small spark of courage lit up inside him. Somewhere in the forest, under the red moon, the strongest omega he had kept hidden for so long had noticed the Lycan King—and felt, perhaps, that he had been noticed in return.

His headless body collapsed heavily onto the blood-soaked ground while blood sprayed violently from the corpse. Gasps erupted from parts of the audience. The strange four-winged creature flapped its wings powerfully and soared back into the sky, circling above the battlefield like a predator searching for its next prey. Soon, it targeted another warrior fighting near the northern side of the temple ruins entrance. That warrior belonged to the Mystic Ancient Pack—a powerful and reputable pack whose Lycan Lord possessed a respected reputation throughout the werewolf community. The Mystic Ancient Pack warrior had just beheaded one of the creatures attacking him when four more beasts rushed him

Leo grinned, knowing that his offer hit me exactly where he wanted it to. “Speechless, darling ?” I nodded softly, almost like a robot. He lifted himself off the bed and came near to me. His body relaxing as It bent over, his face getting closer. His fingers gently massaged my cheeks. He whispered. “No matter what anyone tells you, do not forget, I am the OverLord of the Mafia. The one and the only boss. All of America is my turf. And when I want something, it's mine already. I… do… not lose.”

The maid nodded, confirming her words. She then frowned as she said seriously, “The boss is going to marry the only Mafia princess of the Gonzalo clan and her name is Miracle Gonzalo.”

“Okay. I understand. But please Marley. Be careful. They know you’re out there.” “Who?” “The other Coven Leaders. You thought Korin was bad. If someone like Othello got you— Absinthe would not be able to do a damned thing about it.” Who the hell was Othello? I didn’t know a thing about the name, or who he was, or his importance. “Who’s Othello?” “Othello is the Lord of the Vampires.” “Absinthe is a Lord too.” I’d met Korin… he was a Lord, and other than being a creep, he wasn’t that ba—

The moon hung low in the sky, casting a pale silver glow over the great hall of the Crimson Citadel. Within its stone walls, a storm of judgment brewed. Rows of vampires, nobles and elders alike, filled the arched chamber, their crimson eyes gleaming with anticipation and disdain. At the head of the hall sat the council of judgment—King Draven, with his dark crown of thorns, Queen Aurora beside him in regal silver, and five ancient elders robed in twilight silk.

Chuckling he took my fingers in his hand and started to move it against the cards randomly, closing his eyes and chanting something between his lips. "Seriously, I will pick one, please not this bullcrap," I pull my fingers away and randomly pick a card and place it in his hands. "Ha!" I shrieked when his voice beamed around us. Lowering the card away from his face he turned the card towards. I narrowed my eyes on the card. "Beast, " His voice bellowed behind him as I was met with a black coloured card, a serene moon shining down the lake and a majestic wolf standing by the lake looking upon the moon.

The floor is pure white stone, cold as winter snow under my bare feet. In the dead centre sits the obsidian table. On top of it lies the black book. It is massive, bound in iron and dragon-hide, requiring the strength of two alpha lycans just to shift it from the stone. But only royal blood can break the seal. I place my right palm flat against the cold leather. "Adriel of the House of Luperca." The iron clasps snap open with a loud click. The pages begin to turn on their own, flipping through centuries of dead kings and forgotten wars until they stop at my own generation.

“The Northern Council knows you are alive. They know your power has awakened. They are sending their entire army here. And they are bringing the one weapon that can kill a Lycan Queen. Not poison. Something worse. Something that can unmake your very soul.” She reached into her cloak and held up a small, ancient stone. It was black and jagged, glowing with a sickly light that seemed to drain the warmth from the air around it. “This is the Heart of the Wolf,” she said. Her golden eyes reflected its glow. “An artifact of the First Betrayer. And it is already on its way.”

His golden wolf-eyes locked directly onto mine—cold, calculating, and dripping with raw, predatory malice. It wasn't just Aldric Stormfang. Standing right beside him, nursing a glass of amber liquor with an arrogant, brutal smirk playing on his scarred lips, was Lucan Blackmoor. My blood turned to pure ice in my veins. My breath hitched, my hand instinctively flying to my throat as my human instincts screamed at me to run. Lucan Blackmoor—the rogue warlord who had spent the last five years trying to burn the Whitlock Moonfang Dominion to the ground—raised his glass toward me in a silent, terrifying toast.