Magolor Without Hood Novels & Stories

she responded. The door opened and Colfre emerged. He wears a white flexible armor with the emblem of Hymir on his chest, wearing black inner clothes and a black cloak that he usually wears when he is in rotations. He has a wrapper in his left arm the same color as her peach nightgown. He put his right hand on his chest and bowed as he went near his queen’s bed. “The bath is ready, my queen.” Morrigan nodded and slid out of her bed, Colfre watched her intently. His eyes never leaving the woman in front of him, he watches as Morrigan’s long raven locks sway with her hips and her nightgown dances with the graceful strides of his queen.

Margot Valcourt's gold eyes swept over us like a predator assessing prey. She stood in the hallway of her own compound, perfectly still, perfectly calm, as if finding five intruders in her foyer was a minor inconvenience rather than a security breach. Her dark hair was pulled back in a sleek knot. Her clothes were elegant and understated—black turtleneck, tailored pants. She looked like a CEO, not the head of a four-hundred-year-old supernatural dynasty. And somehow, that made her more terrifying.

At 5'10", her presence commanded attention, but she preferred to stay unnoticed. Her dark skin glowed under the morning sun, and her eyes, a striking shade of amber, held secrets untold. She pulled her hood tighter, hoping to shield herself from the prying eyes she could already feel on her. She sighed, remembering the last town, the last school, the last narrow escape. The coven was always a step behind her, their sinister intentions cloaked in shadow but ever-present. She couldn’t afford to grow attached, couldn’t afford to make friends or enemies. But she knew this routine all too well. Blend in, keep your head down, and move on before anyone gets too close.

"The illusions will feel and look real, but they cannot inflict lasting damage. Focus on the center altar—the redhead with the black flame aura is our target." I checked my modified stun gun—enhanced with crushed rowan berries and silver nitrate, designed specifically to disrupt witch magic. Not lethal, but it would buy us precious seconds if needed. "She's starting," Victoria warned, her eyes widening as the ground beneath our feet trembled. The clearing ahead suddenly erupted with ethereal light as multiple versions of Morgana materialized, each with identical flowing red hair and hands wreathed in black flame. Their voices rose in unison, chanting words that made my ears ache and Selene w

Across the street from us is the men’s. Margo takes a hesitant step back, causing my attention to move from the building to her. She rakes her hands down her body, seeming to point out her outfit. “The qualifications are that I look like I’m going shopping at Target.” She pulls at the bottom of her oversized sweatshirt, the garment long enough to travel all the way down to her mid-thigh. The sweatshirt and leggings combination is paired with a pair of white sneakers. The shoes seem to at least be new, the white a stark contrast to the dirty sidewalk beneath her feet. “Well, I told you we had a private shopping session with an associate.” “I thought that meant I wouldn’t really be seeing anyo

His mother huffed but softened, already drifting toward the food table with Ingrid in tow—no doubt plotting their imaginary wedding again. Nathan exhaled, rolling his shoulders. The pack’s energy usually grounded him. Tonight, it itched under his skin. Because halfway across the city, a witch with storm-kissed magic was laughing with her friends—and he wasn’t there to hear it.

Morana took one more look at the mark before taking the towel to cover herself. She quickly got dressed, she had picked out one of Brandon’s old grey sweatpants and his big red hoodie, Morana made sure to wear her bra remembering what Cameron had said about her going around braless in front of people that weren’t her mate. She took one look at herself in the mirror again, she noticed her hair was covering her mark and that just didn’t sit well with her, so she looked around for something to hold her hair only to find a pencil, Morana broke the top off an used the pencil to hold her hair in a loose updo. Now she was satisfied with how she looked, all she needed was a pair of sneakers and food

Her daughter, who sprawled on the log next to her, wore her dark hair loose around her shoulders. Soon to be kingss Morag’s face was pointier and harder than her mother’s with green streaks more like war than body paint across her forehead. When she scrutinized me, it was like she was already planning battles. Between them, knelt Moon’s dad: silent, naked, and as beautiful as Moon. Unlike him, he wore the smug expression of the consort who knows that he’s perfect and although he didn’t speak, he could carry on whole conversations with Moon through a raised eyebrow or a scrunching of his nose.

Magnus knelt beside Hood, his fingers glowing faintly with a sickly dark light. And then he placed his hand over Hood’s chest, muttering something under his breath — words twisted with a magic I couldn’t recognize, couldn’t understand. The ground beneath them seemed to hum. Lyria and I exchanged a stunned look, both of us instinctively reaching for our weapons though neither of us moved to draw them. We were paralyzed — not by fear, but by sheer, bone-deep shock. We could only watch as Hood’s body jerked once, then stilled.

Thirty minutes for them to explain what the hell is going on. "Come on, let's go sit over there." She leads me towards the living room. Reece, Aaron and Reece's dad follow behind us. We all sit and they give me weird looks not saying anything for a while until Reece decides to break the silence. "Do you believe in werewolves Morgana?" He asks gazing intensely at me. "What, like from the movies?" I ask with a tilt of my head. "Well, not exactly but yeah from the movies." He says.