Mel Arcane Season 1 Novels & Stories

"I'm sorry it took so long for us to meet again." As Kael battles Malrik and the sacred Sword of Lunareth becomes corrupted, Ariana is pulled into a mysterious spiritual realm where she comes face-to-face with the spirit of her father, King Alaric, who has been waiting twenty years to tell her the truth.

“We have only one chance. You must call Selaria’s essence now, Autumn. She must be the one to finish what was once begun.” Zane’s jaw clenched. “And if he breaks through before that?” The Priestess met his gaze. “Then you must hold him. Protect Autumn, no matter what.” Without hesitation, Zane moved beside Autumn, slipping his fingers through hers. “I’ve got you,” he whispered. “I know.” The air grew colder. The mountain began to rumble. Suddenly — a scream ripped through the night. A dark vortex opened above the altar — and Malrik’s form emerged from it, twisted and monstrous. His voice thundered with rage and torment.

And she was sitting with him. Alaric wasn't just a student. He was a Sun Elf with lineage tracing back to the first sunrise, old money and older magic, the kind of pedigree that made my Lycan heritage look like a footnote in a history book. The way he looked at her - calm, intellectual possessiveness, like he'd already catalogued her strengths and weaknesses and was simply waiting for the optimal moment to collect - made my blood boil. Selene's hand was a cold weight on my arm.

--- The Path to the Sanctuary Their journey took them through forgotten roads—veins of magic that pulsed beneath the land. With each step, Elara felt more… whole. Memories flickered like embers: her first spell, a snow-covered night in Alaric’s arms, the moment she sealed the cursed altar to keep Lucifer from rising. But each memory came with weight. Guilt. Sorrow. Fear. Alaric noticed her silence as they rode. “You don’t have to carry it all at once,” he said.

Children with harder. Kael raises his hand. Signal. Wolves relax. Slightly. They recognize him. But they look at me. My clothes. My city shoes. My crown that exists only in blood. "Who is she?" A woman steps forward. Tall. Broad. Arms crossed. Mira. "Seraphina Alaric," Kael says. "Princess. Candidate. My—" He pauses. Word sticks. "Partner." Mira looks me up and down. Slow. Judging. "She does not look like Princess."

And then it began to vanish—dragged into the earth, into a place outside of time. Maelor collapsed. Aelin ran to him, catching him before he hit the dirt. His face was pale. His breath came ragged. “You—you did it,” she whispered. “I bought us time,” he rasped. “No more than that.” The ground still trembled. The sky still cracked. But the beast was gone. Maelor pressed something into her hand. It was a pendant. One she’d seen in the vision-mirrors. The emblem of the First Flame.

When I finished, Maren rose without a word, crossed to a small chest tucked beneath the window, and brought out a mural rendered on cracked, ancient canvas. The same one she had shown me the day I arrived, though I hadn't seen the full picture in my exhausted state. It was a mural of warriors of every kind standing shoulder to shoulder beneath a blood-red moon: wolf, bear, Lycan, painted in old, careful detail, and at the very center, a woman with silver-white hair, her hand raised toward the sky. "Her name was Selene," Maren said quietly. "The last true Moon-Blood Seer this kingdom knew. I believe, though I can't prove it with anything but an old woman's instinct, that she is the piece of s

The Lycan King Demonicus 100 Years Ago Like the stars twinkling and circling the precious beauty of the untamed orb above him, a jewel in the dark, cloudless sky, the future of his people shone like a beacon. While bleakness was his. Uncertain. Like a rocking ship amid a storm. King Constantine Demonicus, Moon Goddess's creation, ruler of the Lycanthrope Realm, powerful, loyal and true. The perfect Lycan King was...

Night vision goggles covered her eyes, and a Bluetooth headset covered her ears. “How does it look from up there?” Warren asked. He and the remaining members of the Arcane Seekers trudged through the ankle-deep snow, spring may have come to Alberta, but Fort Vermillion didn't get the memo. Not that it matters with the town under siege by ravenous dog people called Adlets. Which brought the Scald Crow to a remote location. “We're clear. How are you doing?” air rushed against Therias microphone as she floated through the air. It didn't hide the worry in her voice.

No one spoke. Maelis didn't wait for permission. She pulled out a chair and sat down, folding her hands on the polished wood. Her eyes found mine across the table, and something in my chest shifted. Recognition. Not of her face. Of her presence. She felt like Elara. Like the healer who had found me in the snow. Like someone who had been waiting for me. "You're Caelum Mercer," Maelis said, and her voice was low and rough with age. "Theron's blood. The white wolf. I've been watching you since your first shift."