Messenger Of Death Novels & Stories

My father slammed his fist into the wall, and blood instantly seeped from his knuckles. "You're lying! Adeline just had a fever. How could she die from that? Did she pay you to lie to us?" The healer's expression darkened. "Sir, please be mindful of your words. Adeline's condition was known throughout the entire hospital. If you don't believe me, you can ask anyone here. This wasn't just a simple fever. Her wolf died days ago. Frankly, it was already a miracle she lasted this long."

He had delivered us. The world narrowed to the messenger’s face, that slow, vile smile a brand of ultimate betrayal. The sounds of the clearing—Elisse’s whimpers, Borin’s sharp orders, the moans of the wounded—faded into a dull roar. Rage, cold and absolute, flooded my veins, burning away the last vestiges of shock. “Him,” I said, my voice a low, deadly thing I barely recognized. I pointed a trembling finger at the messenger. “Seize him.”

She dared threaten my pack, claim my child, mock my pain. "Is there a response?" the messenger asked quietly. I looked up at him, and whatever he saw in my face made him take a step back. "Tell your Queen…" The messenger's eyes suddenly went glassy. His hand moved to his belt, pulling out a small vial. Before anyone could react, he'd uncorked it and downed the contents. "No!" James lunged forward, tackling the messenger, but it was too late. The messenger collapsed, blood pouring from his mouth, his body convulsing. James dropped to his knees beside him, trying to get the contents out of his mouth, but we all knew it was useless. Whatever poison he'd taken was fast and thorough.

I collapsed onto the ground in despair, unable to understand why any of this was happening. Kent looked at me seriously. "Sam, I know you're in terrible pain right now, but you need to stay strong. "Based on everything we've uncovered so far, the final message your brother left behind is the key. "You need to tell us: what exactly did he say before he died?" I was already on the verge of breaking down completely. Clutching my head, I screamed, "I don't know! I really don't know!" If anyone wanted the answer, it was me.

But their peace wouldn't last. A cryptic message, delivered by a lone, tattered messenger drone, shattered the tranquility of their headquarters. It originated from a remote sector rarely visited, a region known as the Veiled Nebula. The message, a garbled mix of distorted audio and fragmented data, spoke of a rising darkness, an entity that consumed worlds whole.

I didn’t imagine the voice. It was as clear as day, as loud as if she were standing right next to me. And even though my mind is doubting it, my heart knows for a fact that it was her. Except she’s dead. …Right? Or is she “dead” in the same way Headmaster Stroud suspects my father is dead? Meaning, alive somewhere. “Come on,” Alec whispers. He leads the way out of the bush, and we peek around the pool house’s corner. The coast is clear.

The death that had haunted me since. “No,” I whispered, shaking my head as the past clawed its way back to the surface. “No. It can’t be.” The messenger didn’t respond. He simply watched me, his eyes dark, his expression unreadable. “Who was it?” I whispered again, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. “Who did he kill? Who did you take from me?” But the messenger remained silent. And as I reached for the blade, the coldness in my chest grew, spreading like a shadow over my heart. The blade wasn’t just a reminder of death. It was a message.

“Shit!” His eyes rolled. Dead. A small sigil burned into the flesh under his tongue. A skull split down the middle—Bone Circle, confirmed. Widowmaker growled and kicked the wall hard enough to chip brick. “He was a messenger. Not a courier. Whatever she’s planning—it’s already started.” Back in the Vulture’s domain, the encrypted feed flickered to life. Vulture, still holding Cassian against his chest, watched as Spider wiped blood off her gloves and Widowmaker delivered the report.

How sweet it would be right now to feel nothing. This didn’t happen, though. There was no clemency. She was, and always would be, anchored to this delusional planet. To this hurt. Somebody up there, please help us. We’re dying down here. Can’t you see that? Our land is honeycombed with tombs, and it’ll crumble under our feet one day. Soon. I’ll build a bridge from me to you out of corpses. Just promise me you’ll be there when I arrive. You need to pinkie-swear I won’t be alone.