Mistwraith Mistborn Novelas e Histórias

She reached up, her hands framing his sharp, shadow-stubbled jaw. "Then let it take you, Victor," she whispered fiercely. "I don't want to fight it anymore." Victor’s jaw clenched, a sudden, heavy wave of reverence washing over his rugged features. He leaned down, his forehead resting against hers, his breathing still ragged. In the dark, dangerous world of the underworld, both of them carried heavy armor. But as they stood on the absolute precipice of total surrender, a deeper, unspoken truth hung in the air between them.

Silence. The man beneath me went still. His chest rose and fell in shallow, ragged breaths, but his eyes were clear again. His veins no longer crawled. I released him gently, straightening. My own chest heaved, but I didn’t let it show. Aeron stepped forward, awe written plain across his face. “What… what was that?” “Mist,” I said flatly. “A corruption that spreads by feeding on strength. It twists men into things they’re not.”

“One we used to think was just lore. But now…” Ezra pulls out an old, leather-bound book and places it on the table. I recognize it as part of the books Miren had given us yesterday. I lean forward. The pages are faded, ancient. He turns to a marked section and reads aloud: ‘When the child of moon and mist returns, her howl shall split the skies and bring reckoning to those who feared her rise. She will stand between sun and shadow, peace and war. The blood of ancients will stir through her veins and the lost shall rise behind her.’

Malachi, pointing at the dark figure, countered, "But first, we need to understand who or what that is. It's unlike any being we've encountered." The figure, sensing their confusion, chuckled, its voice deep and echoing, "I am the Nexus Wraith, the embodiment of discarded and forgotten realms. You've given me an opening, and I intend to claim it." Elysia, ever the warrior, stepped forward, challenging, "We won't let you destabilize the balance we've fought so hard to maintain." The Wraith, amused, retorted, "Balance? By restoring one, you've beckoned many. Your intentions, noble as they may be, have consequences."

Letting my eyes wander towards where they were, Lance and Zain held Vesper down while Lia and Riley cast a spell even though they had been warned not to. "Now Kelani, force that fucking antiode down his throat," Lance gritted. I saw the antidote on the floor where I had laid before; snatching it off the ground, I stepped towards Vesper. "You'll never know who your mother is, child, because you are a shame to all werewolves. You don't even have your powers to be called one, and you..." Shoving the antidote into his mouth, I scowled, "At least people still acknowledge me as one; that's all that matters."

I’m uncertain if I believe them. “Wake up the sleeping anger in your heart. Revenge against everyone who has mistreated you…” I turned to my side because she seemed to whisper those words to me. “Bad people will not go away, but you can stop them.” I turned to my other side but couldn't see her. My tears still kept flowing, and I begged her to stop. “N-no… P-please? Stop it.” I said, just to get her to pay attention. “I’ll remind you of everything that happened before the accident; get ready, Ana, because you’ll wake up as Ana Mystica at the end.”

- The drowned priests of Dacia (translucent, glowing, singing the Deep Script in perfect harmony). And in my head, quiet and proud: Grandma Elowen and the Ghost-Queen of Dacia stand side-by-side like proud grandmothers, occasionally arguing in ancient languages about whose ring is prettier. I’m wearing white (not a dress). White leather jacket painted with violet lightning and blackbird wings, white ripped jeans, white boots with stormglass soles. Hellebore Mist is sheathed at my back like a vow. Sânge Furtună is under my arm like a bouquet.

Only absence, At their center marched Luma, her hair a veil of burning starlight. And above them Hung the sky cracked and weeping blood-red mist, Queen Liora stood on the battlements. Armor glowing, soul thrumming, The Flameborn of Equinox. Sera at her right, Altheya at her left Auren below, sword pulsing with half-light. The first wave came soundless, Wraith-beasts made of lost memories, Children wrapped in shadow-stuff, Unborn things, clawing at the stone. “Hold the line,” Liora commanded, voice carrying like thunder.

A whisper that came from everywhere and nowhere all at once. The Moon Goddess. "The Mistborn has awakened," the voice said.