Malachi Aphmau Novels & Stories

"Little jumpy there." "I hate sudden loud noises." "Well then I guess I know where you daughter gets it" Chuck said with a gwaff Mackayla shot him a look. Chuck was an okay looking man a little fluffy at 5' 10" 200 lbs., he had gray blonde hair and soft blue eyes.

I smiled and lifted my bowl, offering him something to eat. Malakhi looked at Miall and smiled kindly, shaking his head. "I'm alright. Enjoy your unique dish, Amanah," he said, and I rolled my eyes, annoyed at how everyone treated my unique dish. "What brings you here at this hour?" Malakhi breathed out a heavy puff as he looked at Miall. "The Nioz Examination Centre collapsed."

Amani felt a cold chill seep into the memory, and the vision shifted to a different place—a chapel, solemn and quiet, filled with the soft rustle of mourning guests. Malakai stood at the back, just ten years old, his small frame trembling as he looked toward the front of the chapel. There, draped in a sea of white flowers, was his mother’s closed casket. The sight hit Amani like a physical blow, the weight of Malakai’s grief pressing down on her chest. She could feel his heartache, his disbelief, as if the ground had been ripped out from under him. Tears welled in his eyes, blurring his vision as he slowly, hesitantly, made his way down the aisle.

Malachi laughed. Zane was unaware of the subtle manipulation taking place and found himself unwittingly ensnared in the web of one of the members of the Twelve, a cunning individual named Malachi. This particular member possessed the power of manipulation, capable of weaving intricate illusions and exploiting the vulnerabilities of others. Under Malachi's influence, Zane's thoughts became clouded, and his perceptions skewed. The once harmonious chorus of voices in his mind became distorted, with Malachi's insidious whispers drowning out the rest. The malicious member of the Twelve exploited Zane's desire for understanding and used it as a conduit to infiltrate his consciousness so he can use

I asked. "Yeah, " he replied. "But it's just a wish, it's not gonna happen, and I'll just have to stick to that for the rest of my life,". I exhaled, he was right. I'm already in, there's no way out. "It just depends on how you stick to being a Mafian, you create more enemies for yourself and endanger your life, or you just remain good and be at peace",he said. I don't know how long we stayed there talking about how messed up our lives were. I don't know how long we stayed there laughing at some very cringe stuffs that happened to us in the past.

He introduced himself. The only thing my head could process was that he was a scammer and might want to do something bad to me. But seeing how he approached me, I decided to give him a listening ear. "And what about you?" He asked. "I'm Amara, my parents are dead and I am tired," I explained while he stared at me pitifully. "I'm sorry to hear that," "It's fine, I've gotten over it. What brought you to this country anyway?" I asked.

Cian has his magic to track me, and Noah is an Alpha with unknown abilities. Wiping the blood away, I get to my feet, walking back inside off the porch and into my room. My clothes are a mess everywhere, my life in an untidy shambles since everything has happened. I’ve been attempting to do my own research into these daemon creature I am supposedly related to, but nothing comes up. Not even in the local library, as if nothing on this exists. It makes me doubt how real this all is...what if this is some kind of screwed up dream.

Malachi spent the night adding information to the encrypted email that was hidden in his drafts folder. He had kept adding to it ever since his meeting with Kifo. It was his insurance policy. He knew too much, and he was aware that at some point, Steiner would forge evidence of his guilt and try to have him executed. “Hey,” Jessica answered her phone sleepily. “I’m sorry I woke you,” Malachi said. “I’ll forgive you if you tell me you’re coming home and not extending this stupid Switzerland thing,” she said and Malachi chuckled.

Instead, he just stared at Malachi with an unnerving, predatory stillness that made the air in the room feel thin. "Tell me, Malachi," Asher said, his voice dangerously smooth. "Do you still value your tongue, or has it become a burden you'd like me to remove?" Malachi let out a long, weary sigh. He was arguably the most skilled physician in the land, a rare blend of medical doctor and mystical healer who understood the supernatural biology of a man like Asher better than anyone. He knew that despite the threats, Asher wouldn’t or couldn't actually get rid of him.

He looked at the Reaper, then back at the girl. "Put your knife away, boy." Malachi's voice was quiet. Tired. "You cannot use force to trigger mercy." He moved toward his shelves, pulling down jars and bundles of dried herbs. "I will help her. Not for you. Not for the gods who chained you to her." He paused, his back to them. "I will do it because twenty-four years ago, I was a coward. I will not die one today." He turned, a jar of dark liquid in one hand, a bundle of dried leaves in the other.