Master Of The Dark Arts นิยาย & เรื่องราว

Master's weave healed her soul. She wanted nothing to invade the peace in their small world, but one afternoon, deep in subspace, Master asked her about Zachery. She knew he was one of Master's most talented models and also that Master apprenticed him in Shibari. She'd had dreams of him and was worried Master would know she lusted after another man. She'd seen Master's exhibits of Zachery bound in rope, which didn't help the dreams. Her thoughts of destroying the only happiness she'd found in years caused her to panic when Master told her he was going away and leaving her in Zachery's care. It was the first time she rebelled. Master's disappointment left her feeling insecure and brought up o

A housekeeper lets me in and tells me Damien’s expecting me in his study, and I walk there with the canvas under my arm like a shield. He’s at his desk when I come in, jacket off, sleeves rolled, and he looks up in a way that makes my chest go tight and stupid. “I wanted this man” I want him to fill me up with his cock…shut up Lucas! I snapped back. “Anastasia said you’d be reviewing on her behalf,” I say, too fast, setting the canvas against the wall. “So I hear.” He comes around the desk, studies the painting for a long moment really studies it, not the polite glance-and-nod I expected. “It’s good. Better than good.”

Of course he did, I lowered my eyes to my lap so they wouldn’t see the hatred flicker briefly across my face, hatred itself was dangerous, the Mothers said bitterness poisoned a woman’s spirit, but lately I felt poisoned already. Two months ago, the Master summoned me to his private study after evening prayer. I still remembered every detail, the smell of incense, the heavy silence, the guards outside the door and him, Gabriel Vane. The man everyone worshipped like a prophet, he was old enough to be my grandfather, perhaps older, no one actually knew his real age because nobody dared ask questions about the Master, but whispers among the older women claimed he was already in his sixties, his

Denn thought for a while and said, “Alfredo, go get me Master Rondo.” The hunched old man behind him immediately left, and when he returned, there was a 50-year-old middle-aged man with him. The man was Master Rondo. Master Rondo said, “Greetings, Mr. Denn.” Mr. Denn offered him a smile and said, “Master Rondo, I remember that you can destroy someone's soul from a distance and kill them without actually touching them, right?” Master Rondo replied proudly, “Although no one in my school has ever formed the lightsoul and darksoul before, practicing the secret art can strengthen our mind.”

Their form started to shift, growing larger, more imposing. Darkness and light seemed to converge around them, twisting and writhing, as if the very fabric of reality was being torn apart by their presence. “No,” I whispered, my heart racing. “What are you doing?” “Unmaking,” the mastermind replied, their voice echoing with a thousand whispers. “I am chaos incarnate, Sera. I am the void between stars, the darkness that devours light. And now, I will show you my true form.” The ground beneath me shook, and I stumbled back, my eyes wide with horror as the mastermind’s body contorted, their skin melting away like wax to reveal a mass of pure energy, a swirling vortex of darkness and light, chao

He was strange, like the others, his eyes glowing faintly in the darkness, his form somehow wrong. Aria Nightshade, he said, his voice carrying the same chilling quality as the messenger from before. You think you have won. You think this battle means something. But you have only delayed the inevitable. Aria stepped closer, unafraid. Tell me about your master. The prisoner smiled, a terrible expression that held no warmth. My master is older than your first, older than your world, older than the moon itself. He has watched you rise, watched you grow, watched you defeat his servants one by one. And he is pleased.

The Master turns the clipboard so I can see a small black and white photograph at the top of the board; she looks exactly like Elle, just younger. “Elle?” I ask him softly. I’ve felt my mate with my own hands; I’ve touched every inch of her body and I’ve tasted everything she has to offer. My mate is not a copy of some poor female who was killed because of her blood. “She’s a different story. A tricky little project for my team but different.” The Master chuckles to himself before turning the clipboard away so he can look at the page once more. “Let me be clear about what I’m offering here. You now know I have endless girls to send your way.” He coughs a little when he turns his back on me a

“M-master… what… what will you do now?” The Master’s gaze landed on the trembling figure, his smile sharp, cruel, and dripping with theatricality. “Now?” he said, voice low, deliberate, curling like smoke. “Now… we prepare. The next wave will not be a mere taste. No. This time, they will know despair. They will see the futility of resistance. Every trap, every illusion, every shadow—they will feel it all. And I will watch.”

"Huh? How did you know that, master???" Jorah inquired with his whiskers twitching at both sides due to his utter confusion. It was not that he suspected that his master was trying to bluff in anyway, but it was just that as far as he knew, his master did not have any foretelling ability. Yes, he was indeed a capable warlock, maybe even unmatched among his peers, but if his memory was not failing him yet, during his years of living with Eugene, the talking tomcat also never heard of the other party having a premonition before.

The surroundings gradually darkened because the moon has changed color, but any darkness is irrelevant to my eyes that can see right through it. I can hear screams everywhere, which almost drew my attention, but they vanished when, from the darkest part of that place, I saw someone standing—no, he was now walking—and in an instant, he was already in front of me, but I didn't have the chance to see his face. The next thing I knew, he had sucked my neck and drunk my blood along with my screams and a tight grip on his ripped arm. "You're all mine. Your blood, your body, your soul. I'll kill everyone who threatens me and my possession. I'll kill whoever try to take you away from me. Now sleep, A