Magolor Without Hood Novels & Stories

I ask, getting straight to the point. Nova nods, her expression serious. “Yes. The Moon Goddess has shown me a ritual that can safely extract the Meraloth from Morana without causing her any harm.” Morana lets out a breath and smiles. “That’s a relief. I was so scared it would hurt, or that it would leave me... different.” The witch smiles reassuringly. “It won’t hurt, I promise. But it has to be done at night, under the full moon. We need the Goddess’s power at its peak.”

He was clad in a black robe and brandished a blood-drenched sword. “Mor…Morgot…”Hyacinth stuttered, her delicate body trembling in fear. “You’ve really returned!” Morgott twirled his spear and turned to them with a menacing smile.

By the time he was finished with Shadow and Bella, no one would be left with any doubts about his prowess as he claimed the Alpha's title for himself. When the first bodies dropped from the skies, Santos didn't know what to think. Then the screaming started, as the dust settled and a line of vampires stood trapped in a wall of ice. A challenging bellow announced the arrival of the dragons and as his Army scrambled to defend themselves, a hooded figure dropped to the ground, holding a sword in each hand. "Well, come on, we don't have all night," A feminine voice drawled as Morgana removed her hood, her eyes blazing red with bloodlust, and she smiled seductively at the Army beginning to surrou

I don’t know if he will be able to since he’s bonded with her. I spot her from a distance, dressed in black with a crimson robe, her blonde hair falling down her back in long curls, and I can see the sickly yellow glow of her eyes from where I stand. Morganna sees us approaching, and with a flick of her wrist, a familiar-looking beast appears at her side: one that looks exactly like the beast Caterina summoned on the night she took out Westcott’s vamp lair.

I scanned the place. I am sure. This is the place where I dropped off Magda last time. I can't be wrong. I spoke in the back of my mind. I wonder why Bel is the one who was here. Just in case Bel and Magda are the same people—No! No! It's impossible. I protested. If you take a look, Bel has a sun-kissed skin tone while Magda is fair. Bel has shoulder-length hair while Magda is long. The woman who's with me now is tall, while Magda just has an average height.

Morgana. Her gown is a deep, living scarlet, cinched at the waist with a cord of black leather, and a blood-colored stone resting at her throat. Her eyes gleam like embers when they meet ours. It’s startling to see her as herself—no mask, no borrowed face of Talisa to shield behind. Just Morgana. Smiling in a sinister way. She stands before one of the cells, her gaze fixed on its interior, arms folded neatly. Her satisfaction unsettles me.

“Charlie! Hurry!” I push forward, each step agony. I can see the door—see outside—but my body refuses to move faster. The Riding Hoods aren’t chasing us, just standing guard at the bottom. Why aren’t they following? Then, I hear her. “Did you really think you could get away?” Morgana’s voice slithers up the stairwell, sickly sweet and smug. Terror spikes through me. I look down. She’s floating. Wind whips around her, her clothes billowing unnaturally. Her arms stretch outward, and she begins to rise.

Margot smiled and responded evasively, "Why can't long-married couples go on a honeymoon? I wasn't aware there was such a rule." Margot sat next to Luna and took off her coat. After that , she brushed back her wavy long hair. It was winter now and extremely cold outside. So, she wore extra layers when she came over. Luna noticed that when Margot took off her coat, her slender, fair legs were revealed. Coupled with the fact that she was wearing black Martin boots, her legs appeared noticeably elongated even though she wasn't very tall. To top it off, she was wearing a cropped white sweater with a short skirt. If anything, she looked just like a university student. Especially since her makeup

I know there’s nowhere Arlo won’t be able to find me now and Maelor will never be able to cut us off from each other again. The magical cuffs barely offer any resistance as I slip out of them. I was hoping to find my clothes somewhere in here, but it seems I’ll be running in a lacy, white negligee which barely reaches my thighs. I doubt it was necessary to dress me this way, they didn’t have such fine fabrics when Morgana was alive. Pervy old bastard.

Tobias followed, though his hand hovered near a ritual blade at his belt. The passage beyond the healer room was narrow, carved stone, descending into deeper infrastructure beneath Silvercrest. The deeper they traveled, the denser the seal symbols became, snaking like veins along walls. And then Lyra saw her. Morrigan stood at the far end of the passage where torchlight barely reached. She did not wear armor in the traditional sense. Instead, dark layered fabric clung to her form, marked with faint silver etchings that pulsed softly with the same rhythm as the chant outside. Her presence was not loud.