Malam Kelam Mga Nobela at Kwento

On the far, shadowed edge of the clearing, standing just beyond the reach of the bonfire's glow, was a figure. He was old, his hair a shock of white against the darkness, his posture straight and imposing despite his years. He was dressed in the traditional dark furs of the senior nobility. My breath caught in my throat. I knew that face. It was the man from my father’s private files the one whose name had been whispered in the margins of the most damning reports. The senior elder, Malachi, a man who had served three Alphas and was rumored to know where every body in the Silver Moon was buried.

Dominic instantly pushed me behind his back, his fully healed claws extending as a low, lethal growl vibrated in his chest. Through the frosted mist of the entrance, a solitary figure walked in. He didn’t wear tactical armor, and he didn’t carry a silver weapon. He wore the heavy, dark fur cloak of the Shadow Ridge Alpha, his silver hair glittering beneath the dim moonlight. A massive crescent scar cut across his left eye, mirroring the terrifying, brutal aura radiating from his frame. Malakai. The older brother looked at Dominic, then his black-ringed eyes slid over to me, a slow, drapieżny smirk stretching across his cruel, handsome face. He didn’t look angry; he looked absolutely ecstatic

⸻ Amara stared. ⸻ “Where?” ⸻ Malakai hesitated. ⸻ For the first time since meeting him— The ancient hybrid looked afraid to speak. ⸻ “The last night of Lunaris.” ⸻ A chill raced through Amara. ⸻ The bond beneath her skin pulsed. ⸻ Lucian stepped closer instantly. ⸻ Protective. Always protective. ⸻ His hand brushed hers. ⸻ A simple touch. ⸻

Twenty-Four Years Ago – The Ouroboros Sanctum Young Malachi stood in the center of the floor, his boots clicking against the polished stone. Above him, the Elders sat in a semi-circle, their gold serpent masks reflecting the torchlight. In the corner, a massive brass clock ticked with a heavy, metallic thud. It skipped like a dying heartbeat.

"You summoned me." "The woman in my bed." Tristan pointed a shaking finger at me. "She smells of cedar and rain. She does not carry the scent of my fated mate. Yet she wears Clara's face. Strip the illusion, priest. Now." Malakar approached the bed, his eyes hollow. He sliced his own palm open with the obsidian blade, let the blood drip into the chalice, and began chanting in a low tongue I didn't recognize. Heat spread through the room until the air felt almost unbearable.

He felt a low vibration in the tree-trunk, he lay both of his hands. “Luan?!” he calls. “My Dear moonlight” he said. A string of light came out from Aelius pinky, then climb up until it reaches the treetop. In the road of darkness, Stella saw a string of light wrapped around her pinky. Then another string of light appeared from the direction of Aelius. It was as if, he is reaching out for her.

“Besides, after this, I do not think Liam will want to spend the night with me, and I was strictly told to leave him alone. Not my nephew knows of our dealings here, but he is rather fond of Liam in his own twisted ways.” Malak’s chuckling annoys me, but what has me even more frustrated are his words. “I don’t give two shits who knows about my bed preferences. It's not like I am strictly gay. It's just that Kain happens to be male. This scummy blackmailing doesn’t work on me,” I hiss out my reply. I don’t know who Malak is talking about, but I know he is right on one bit of information. I don’t and will never sleep with him. Especially after this.

Centuries have passed and that girl, even when it's tough for me to concede, is probably dead. Thus, another girl, a grown-up lady is always appearing. This dilemma has been present for ever since year 2018 started, goddamn it! I paved my way through the Italian bar. The entrance was covered with beautiful and pink flowers with the neon letters La Fleur. You wouldn't expect that inside it was a bar full of monsters doing drugs, sex, and feeding on people. I saw a familiar man coming out of the counter and making his way to me. I grinned at him and nodded, letting my red pupil show – a way to greet your co-vampires. He did the same too.

I asked. He hesitated, but I pushed my claw in deeper, grabbing on his arms, pulling hard. "Argh! Stop! Please just stop!" He pleaded. " If you want me to, then you better start talking!" I warned. "They said his name is Malcolm, a powerful sorcerer from the south! They said he was so powerful he could hide himself under the shadows of the night, so no one would know when he would attack. He always caught his victims unaware." He paused, then continued.

"I'm sure he will sort something out. If not, he will come to me." Malik wanders around the room, looking out the window, before he gave up and closed the curtain. The room smells slightly musty, I realise. That's not about to make me want to open the window, though. Something tells me this storm isn't going to blow over until morning. The thunder rumbling through the sky tells me that much. "This is a hopeless beginning to our date," Malik says, smiling slightly as he turn back around to me. His hair is slightly matted from the rain, the thick strands hanging across his forehead as they still drip slightly.