Mirage And Wraith Novels & Stories

Rubby’s POV. I came back from the gym to meet my parents standing in front of the tv like they have seen a ghost. “Mom?” I walked closer and caught a glimpse of the screen. “Abj’s new CEO reveals her true identity. Mira Greg”. I cleaned my eyes to make sure I was seeing properly. Like a wind, it struck me. “I have waited for this,sister”. “What in Free city is this manipulation”. I yelled. “Mom, she is Mira”. I almost lost balance.

The crowd, particularly the young she-wolves, erupted in cheers and whistles, drawn in by her dramatic speech designed to seize attention. Mirage's father, however, gave an almost imperceptible nod, signaling to one of his wolves who promptly brought forth an ancient-looking dagger, its hilt adorned with a red crystal. He also produced a set of documents, placing them beside the dagger. His displeasure was apparent, a silent acknowledgment that he would have gladly given Mirage to anyone but me. It was clear that he never expected someone like me to win his daughter's heart. Little did he know, his judgment was based on an outdated perception of who I used to be.

Dusk whined, his gray form low, tail tucked, the wraiths’ snarls a grim echo, the red glow in the ravine flaring, the air heavy with the Bone Shadow’s curse. A wraith lunged from the ravine, its shadowy form coalescing into a mass of ash and bone, its red eyes blazing, claws of jagged bone swiping at Sam, the shale cracking under its weight, the runes flaring brighter, the wind howling a dirge. Sam’s staff flared, silver light slicing through the wraith, its scream a guttural wail, ash exploding as it dissolved, the cold air crackling, the pack’s tattoos glowing, their howls a defiance against the spires’ darkness, the battle for their legacy just beginning.

All around us, wolves screamed and howled. Nyra’s pack held their ground, but barely. They moved in their groups, coordinated like teeth in a biting jaw. They took down a Wraith, then moved to the next. But the Wraiths were built for death, their hide unnaturally thick, their bloodthirst too much. Two wolves got crushed under a single stomp just behind me. One was flung into a tree so hard the bark cracked with him. Another unit circled a Wraith whose leading leg was ripped off by Nyra.

Every tree, every rock, every gust of wind seemed to whisper of dangers lurking just beyond the horizon. Lia’s wrist-mark had been flaring with more intensity over the past few days, the power within her growing stronger, and yet more volatile. The strange "Mirror Soul" ability—this gift, or curse—was becoming harder to control. Every time she replicated magic, it drained her energy, leaving her weak and vulnerable. But she couldn’t stop. The Heart of the Greykin was still out there, and it was the only hope for her people. At least, that’s what she kept telling herself.

Then the attack came. --- They struck from the cliffs—beasts of shadow and flame, with molten eyes and fangs like obsidian. Wraithborn. But not like those they’d faced before. These were older. Stronger. Twisted by something ancient. The first leapt for Lena. Tarek intercepted it mid-air, slamming his blade into its throat. Two more descended toward Aria and Kael. Aria spun, slicing one clean through, the Sovereign blade searing its form into ashes.

'Yes, take it all,' Mira urged, but her voice cracked, fear edging in. Drake broke from Selene, her scratches marking his chest, passions spent in growls. 'Luna!' He charged the circle, shoving warriors aside, eyes wild with protective rage. I met his gaze over the cock in my mouth, love flashing hot, relating to him as my true pack in this madness. But Mira chanted louder, hands weaving shadows. 'No more!' Spectral wolves materialized from the mist—ghostly forms with glowing eyes, fangs bared—lunging at Drake, dragging him back into the dark.

Its foggy surface riddled with jagged holes matched the ceiling, which too had changed. As the dance floor and strobe lights faded, taking with it the splintered shards of furniture and even the circular bars that dotted the room like the holes of a button, I realized this had all been an illusion. Only we were real, the living and dead—the ones who staked their claim in this battle between good and evil. One at a time, the magically crafted versions of Callum and Dain vanished, fading into mist until only one set remained. A single glimpse of those star-flecked eyes was all I had when the armored forms of Helios and Cain appeared, exploding from the shadows in a wave of pure chaos.

Ezra is not afraid because the other's goal is himself, but he also secretly thanks God because protecting Selena is simple as long as he could know the other's purpose. "Okay" Two black wolves with similar black fur, the most pronounced difference are their eyes. A pair of cold blue eyes clashed with a couple of fiery yellow eyes. A ferocious growl, sharp teeth. Their breaths were hot, and their heroic aura could not be underestimated. Ezra flew towards his opponent extremely fast, his sharp claws like blades attacking head-on. The mystic was someone who had also practiced sternly for years, so avoiding him was easy. He quickly switched from a passive position to an active attack.

Forever missing the chance but remained to be written in every folklore and history of Hymir. Morrigan flicked her wrist in circular motions as she steps back imitating Fiachra's sword clashing with her enemy's sword, determining who will win the decisive battle. Skipping around and flinging the branch in her hand, dancing in a very fluid and flexible, yet brisk manner, the hem of Morrigan's chemise and the sleeves of her wrapper rustled at her accurate movements. She finished the dance with how Fiachra was usually portrayed in her statues and portraits. A woman with long raven hair gazing at the horizon, a sword resting at the back of her arm, and her other hand pointing towards the directi