Mel Arcane Season 1 Novels & Stories

She lit a lantern and began leafing through the records of rogue activity from decades ago. One symbol kept repeating — a crescent moon eclipsed by claws. It had been used before Marcus… by a rogue elder named Alaric. A name long thought to be legend. But as she read, the pieces began to fall into place: Alaric, a once-banished seer, had promised to return “when the blood moon rose to devour the peace of wolves.” Kate’s nightmares, the whispers, the sensation of being watched — they all suddenly made a chilling kind of sense.

Before I finished, he transpired in front of me, in all of his glory, levitating above the ground. His wings are black but heavily tinged with neon crimson fire and embers. He looked like a divine, fierce, fiendish and infernal version of a phoenix, all at the same time. I looked small as a mouse when compared to him, and I am a tall girl, probably thanks to Malleteagan‘a genes. The fiery halo surrounded Marcellus’ head, forming a crown around his auburn hair, which was falling down his back in all of its magnificence. Black pentagrams on Marcellus’ forearms now bleed in an intense neon mixture of crimson and obsidian, along with ember-etched runes that rippled and relocated their position o

Her hair—two perfect curled strands—lit up in a puff of smoke. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to ruin. Marcella shrieked. One of her entourage screamed and fell back. “Oh no,” I said flatly, completely unbothered. “Did I do that? Silly me. Mana control’s still a little shaky.” Alaric, at my side now, didn’t even flinch. His lips twitched upward instead—just a ghost of approval. “My lady!” one of Marcella’s girls wailed. “Your gown!”

And that was the point. Present Below, Kael snapped a command, and the warriors split into pairs again. Blades flashed. Someone fell. Alaric tilted his head toward Maeron, who had just joined him at the edge of the pit. “She doesn’t train with them,” Alaric said casually. Maeron didn’t answer. Alaric followed his gaze and smiled. “Pretty, though. And sharp. I’ve seen wolves rise on less.” Maeron’s voice was quiet. “She doesn’t need the circle.”

The lanterns hanging from the nearby trees shattered all at once. Glass exploded across the clearing. Several horses screamed. One man stumbled backward in terror as darkness spread unnaturally beneath Alaric’s boots like spilled ink. “My lord—” “I am leaving.” No one argued. No one was stupid enough. The storm winds screamed through the trees as Alaric reached for the magic buried beneath his skin. Ancient. Monstrous. Hungry. The forest recoiled from it instantly. Runes ignited along his hands in molten silver light while shadows twisted violently around his body. The temperature dropped so quickly frost spread across the dead leaves at his feet.

The way he looked at me like he really missed me just melted my heart away. But in a matter of seconds, my world crashed when a woman approached him and whispered something into his ear as the both of them disappeared into the dark. I was at the end of the steps when a hand pulled me aside and there I realized that it was Princess Scarlette who did that. “Contain yourself, Miss Clara!” she reminded me in a harsh whisper as she wiped some tears from my eyes. I did not even realize that my eyes were getting teary. I was too preoccupied with the thought of Gavin with another woman that I did not care if these people saw me crying and emotional.

Acasia Sarn's lair was different. Not as comfortable as Bastian's, barren actually. Calista, his bride, welcomed me with a soft melodic voice. She was much older than I was, her hair long and grey, her face wrinkled but the beauty she once held was still evident. It was surreal meeting a claiming bride whom I'd studied in school. The other, Megan, belonging to Tahr. She was middle aged, with graceful beauty and still full of life. The dragons seemed relaxed, friendly, and curious of me until Laryn arrived. I received a sharp jerk to my hand, which brought me closer to Bastian's side within seconds of the devastatingly handsome man's approach. With gentler and more subtle moves, Sarn and Tahr

Helena’s glowed soft green. Healing magic. The freed cult victims showed grays. Still tainted. And Aldric’s tent… “Do you see it?” Erica asked. I did. Oh, I did. Aldric’s aura had layers. On the surface: gold. Loyalty. Family. Purpose. But underneath, faint and hidden, something else pulsed. Dark red. Almost black. Hungry. Exactly like Seraphine’s had been. “Moon Goddess,” I breathed. Erica let go.

Each member of the group was drawn to a different vision, their connection to it palpable. Eryx found himself amidst an ancient ritual, where the first Crescent Amulet was forged. Lysandra stood in a grove, witnessing a sacred pact between the early seers and nature. Dupree was on a battlefield, surrounded by ancestors, their resolve unwavering despite overwhelming odds. Seraphina saw a gathering, where the seers decided to hide the amulet, protecting its power from being misused. Moros, to his surprise, was in a grand hall, watching a younger version of himself being denied a seat of power among the seers, fueling his future ambitions.

Alaric dodged every blow — because the last thing he wanted was not to harm her. “Mi amor, fight it! Don’t let the darkness consume you!” he begged. Hours passed. Amber’s minions kept multiplying — even the dead were revived by her magic. Sebastian, Dominick, their warriors, and even the councils were exhausted. The Elders and Florita continued holding back Amber and Aldrake. Then, as exhaustion finally caught up to Amber and Aldrake… they made their move. They stepped beside Livia. Everyone stopped — watching. And without warning — they vanished. All three of them. “F*ck!!” Alaric roared in rage.