Male Necromancer Art Novels & Stories

He refused to believe in supernatural beings before despite the strange things that happened to him and his constant nightmares, but now that he was here right before one, there was no way to deny that fact. The side of her lips lifted a bit. “What do you think?” He didn’t say anything. From all the mythical books he had read, only dark creatures had red eyes, and the most famous were… vampires. What was more peculiar was he had dreamt about them before. In his dreams, everything felt real. It was like something about them kept on haunting him. “A demon or a vampire?” He didn’t want to know but he needed to. “Both.” His jaw clenched. He wanted to believe that this couldn’t be real, but altho

I stretch my hand and my servant quickly wiped the blood out of my fair skin. "Even the touch of your blood is disgusting. Your presence is nothing at all so make sure that you know who are you dealing with. I always knew you had eyes on her but I let that slip away. However, giving her this garbage is a already a sinful act. That woman is mine and if I have to make you remember that I will. " Nico only stared at me, he was not talking. " I am done with him. Do your thing but make sure that he will live. This must serve as his lesson that it is a sin to stand against Lexus Arendelle."

this blood-sucking creature is unlike anyone I've ever seen. His long dark hair is tied neatly into a bun, and his caramel eyes seem to burn into my soul as he stares at me with an unreadable expression. He looks curious and surprised to see me there, but also angry, or annoyed. "I'm Ronan, your master," he says. #

“I was going to make this quick for you. But now I think I’m going to take my time.” He smiled and it split open one of the blisters on his cheek, fresh blood running down his face. “I’m going to kill everyone you care about,” Jonathan continued, speaking slowly. “Your brother. Your pack. Your father’s memory. Everything you’ve ever loved is going to burn and you’re going to watch every second of it.” He stepped even closer and Luca could smell the rot coming off him, could see the madness building behind his eyes. The witches’ chanting reached a crescendo and Arden screamed, his body finally giving up the fight and shifting completely.

Liora had returned, watching my flank, her guilt bleeding into every strike. We cut through them. Until the center opened. And then I saw him. Aedric’s corpse still lay where I had left it days ago, pierced through the heart. But he stood now, behind it, reborn or reassembled, eyes hollow and wrong. Necromancy. Old. Forbidden. He smiled, lips cracked with dried blood. “You missed,” he said. I should have known death wouldn't be enough. He raised his hand, and the corpses of our fallen rose with him.

"I won't let them harm us." Aunt Cleo's voice sliced through the air like a warning bell, her words laced with urgency and gravity. "Aqua, you need to grasp the true threat of the coven. They're not just ordinary casters. Each possesses unique abilities, ranging from unnaturally swift regeneration and inhuman strength to the sinister power to manipulate creatures and even people, turning them into spies. Some even boast of an unnerving form of immortality, extending their lives far beyond the natural order. And worst of all, they have the terrifying capability to absorb the powers of other casters."

They cackled and hissed, jerking back into the trees like cowards that loved to mock. I didn’t stop. I trudged through another glade—one I wish I hadn’t found. Creatures twisted in shadows, smeared with oil, indulging in violent, beastly lust. Their bodies bent in ways human joints should never bend. I clenched my teeth, covered my eyes, and fled. The next space opened into a ritual site. Figures in black masks surrounded a suspended lamb, their chants humming low and dangerous. The necromancers stirred bowls of tar-dark water. One of them was so old it was hard to believe life still pulsed in her bony frame.

I barely make a sound but just to be sure, I also activated a spell that will ensure he won’t be able to smell or sense me. At the bottom of the grand staircase, he turns right, toward the old museum annex I’d once helped design. It’s filled with relics and curiosities: swords, banners, magical artifacts, even a petrified lycan’s paw. But he doesn’t seem interested in any of those. Instead, he kneels on a display rug and removes it, showing a thick, iron-banded trapdoor that leads to the basement. He then unlocks it with a key hanging from his necklace.

It was big, obvious despite being hidden behind the standard military uniform pants. “If that’s how it normally looks then how big is it when he is aroused?” Jin Huan gulped as he quickly grabbed his own throbbing cock with a whimper. He then leaned back against the cool stone wall of the tub. One hand played with his nipples, rubbing and pinching vigorously while the other squeezed his balls. He imagined the general holding him from behind, toned chest against his back, his slightly smaller hand groped his chest and his cock rubbing against the crack of his ass.

Alexander He gritted his teeth as he studied the image of his lycan above the marbled mantlepiece. The painting was done by a royal pack member, Paul Cezanne in 1858. The worth of the art was invaluable like the artist himself. No matter how much he tried to relax, it was impossible. His wolf was snarling and roaring in his head, wanting blood on his sharp canines. The blood of the enemy. A fucking necromancer. He will tear him piece by piece by nightfall tomorrow.