Mirage X Wraith Novels & Stories

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 Little did he know, his judgment was based on an outdated perception of who I used to be.

I drove back to West Miami in a trance. My skin was stained with the very splatters of Saul’s blood. Vane’s cold, lethal twist played on a loop in my mind. The sound of the snap, the way Saul’s eyes had gone vacant. I pulled the Corolla up to the curb of my apartment building. But the sidewalk wasn't empty. Idling under a streetlamp was a machine that looked like it had been forged in the same dark furnace as the man sitting on it. It was a Combat Wraith, a custom-built powerhouse, trapped in a cage of steel.

She felt the weight of every breath, every promise she had made to her pack, pressing into this moment. “You’re nothing but fear,” Raven spat, pushing him back. The Wraith tilted his head, that cold smile returning. “I am what you were meant to be.” Ragnar struck, lightning slamming into The Wraith, forcing him to stagger. Raven lunged, her blade cutting across The Wraith’s side, dark mist spilling from the wound instead of blood. “You will fall,” The Wraith hissed, recovering, shadows coiling around his wound, sealing it. Raven’s eyes narrowed, steady. “Not today.”

The forest shook very hard, and red, silver, black, and crimson liquid sparks flew through the trees like lightning. The Eclipse Wraith was huge and twisted, and its shadow looked like snakes that were ready to strike. The rogue stayed, their eyes cruelly shining, and their presence added to the chaos caused by the Wraith. "You... Moonbound!" the Wraith hissed, and its voice was as sharp as steel in the dark. "Every bond you have... every piece you keep safe... will break! You will lose everything!"

“Besides, it is common curtsey to give a name to your attack.” Johan snorted. “That doesn’t make sense. I mean, a battle cry is enough to warn people that you’re attacking, but telling them exactly what you’re attacking with next? That’s stupid!” “Well... it doesn’t sound half as intimidating without a proper name...” Xander tried pulling away from Johan again. “Oh, so it’s just used to sound intimidating?” Johan looked thoughtful. “Okay then, ‘magma whip’!” Several veins of magma appeared around the two fire mages.

He didn’t yet know who the enemy was—or how close they had come—but the warning was clear and sharp. Back inside, Rashel’s fingers hovered above the keyboard as a chill ran down her spine. The door to her workspace creaked open with a whisper, and a shadow slipped inside, silent as smoke. The Wraith. The figure moved as fluidly as wind, footsteps muffled by leather soles and practiced grace. His mask was featureless, the shape of a wolf’s muzzle rendered in matte black, and his expression unreadable. In his gloved hands, a blade gleamed cold under the faint light.

"You’re looking for a reason to forgive yourself. For being his son. For being the heir to a nightmare." The Mirror in the Dark The Wraith-Sub docked with the titanium node with a hollow, metallic clunk. The air inside the hub was recycled and stale, tasting of copper and decades of isolation. As the hatch opened, the interior lights didn't flicker on; instead, the walls themselves began to glow with a soft, pulsing violet—the color of Helena’s eyes.

Saphira did the best she could to explain what it was like being blind. One day, Xavier had a pretty rough conversation over the phone with one of the pack leaders. He growled and rubbed his face. “Xavier? Are you okay?” Saphira softly asked as she walked into their shared office. Xavier sighed before saying or doing anything. “No. Varian, the leader of the Misty Haven Pack, is threatening Orion, Lyra, Darian, and Diana. A few others have as well. I fear there’s going to be a war between the packs.” Xavier explained with a frustrated growl.

Jax I wake standing instead of lying down, and that realization is the first thing that feels wrong. The second is that nothing around me makes any sense. The ground beneath my feet appears solid at first glance, but the longer I focus on it, the more it seems to shift beneath me in slow ripples, like dark water disturbed by an unseen current. Above me stretches something that resembles a sky, though it changes too slowly and too unnaturally to truly be one. Deep shades of blue bleed into silver and black, twisting together in strange patterns that make my eyes ache if I stare at them for too long.

Everything I had tried to bury, everything the Rift had sensed and stored over the centuries, coalescing into one dark, watchful pulse. A sudden shift in the shadows drew my eyes. The Wraiths appeared, not in swarms this time but individually, tall and thin with translucent bodies that bent the light of the silver veins into fractured specters. Their eyes glowed faintly, observing, judging, waiting. “Do not falter,” Cael whispered. “They feel fear. They feed on hesitation.” I took a step forward, feeling Auren’s hand on my lower back, steadying, urging. Cael’s gaze bore into mine, molten silver, burning away the remnants of doubt. Together, we approached the pedestal.