Morana Novels & Stories

Maria stared in astonishment at how mesmerising his eyes were and the mole—he had a mole on his nose. Something about it felt awfully familiar. Does she know this person?

Nya took it, knowing she’d have to wander off between the trees in a moment to relieve herself but also quite hungry. She tore the skin of the piece of fruit open revealing a tangy orange pulp beneath. Juice ran down her fingers. She licked it off before taking a bite of the sweet treat. “Does that happen a lot?” she asked. “Do people who catch a ride on a dragon fall asleep frequently?”

"I will tear your throat out. I will find a way to end you." Morana tilted her head, amused. "Such spirit. It’s a shame you have to die. Your line was always so... passionate. But business before pleasure." She began to pace back and forth in front of me, her bare feet leaving impressions in the moss that instantly filled with black ichor. "I am not a monster, Remy. I am a businesswoman. And I believe in fair trade. I have something you want, and you have something I need." She stopped and looked toward the massive oak tree where Nash had fallen. The black fur of his Dire Wolf form was barely visible in the shadows, a heap of unmoving fur and blood amidst the

"She walks alone every now and then slipping away before dawn. This time she went deeper into the woods than usual." Morrigana arched a brow. "And? Did she frolic through the trees? Or let me guess, she whispered to the wildlife she saw? Oric please get to the point" Oric chuckled. "Not quite. She was training. Hard. And here’s the interesting part: Morrigana, I don’t think she’s human, she wasn’t just using human strength." His gaze sharpened slightly. "She’s tapping into something else. Something… unnatural." Morrigana’s her expression carefully neutral. "You don’t say? Oric, if that’s all, then we’re done for tonight" she said flatly, her tone laced with a touch of dissatisfaction as she

Morana chuckled and I rolled my eyes as I grabbed another ancient book that contains information about supernatural creatures to have a look. Morana's powers seemed to be growing every second, not only can she shift into different wolves, she was doing things werewolves should not be doing and she seems happy about it while I get more confused cause no books have any details about what I was exhibiting, not even hybrids. "You should be happy, the more power you have, the more chances we have against those pieces of trash you call ex husbands, can't wait to kill them." Her voice was so thrilling as she painted bloody images in my

That's the phrase she keeps mumbling to herself. The same goes for the two criminals. In spite of her best efforts, she is unable to talk to them normally, as if they have gone insane. She was about to leave since she already got what she wanted, but one of them said something that made her freeze at her place. "Ameira. The name of the woman who gave us the medicine is not human, but our greed. She's our demon side." She slowly turned her head to the side, looking at the rusty iron door.

The wolf held her ground, huffing air out of her snout. “What are you doing?! You’d choose them!? The ones that killed your father!?” a single tear escaped Morana’s eye as she spoke about Zander. “I’m doing this for you! So you can rule! Now get out of the way!!” The markings on Morana’s face whirled and spun. Her magic seeped from her, contained in a black smoke-filled orb between her hands. Her eyes turned wholly black as she readied her power to strike.

a rasped, melodic voice vibrated from the dark center of the room. Sitting over a bubbling stone brazier filled with black oil was Morana. She didn't look like a standard mortal woman; her skin was pale, with translucent wrinkles that showed dark, greasy shadow lines pulsing beneath her cheeks. Her eyes were solid, milky-white pits devoid of pupils, and in her skeletal right hand, she clutched a long, jagged bone-needle that was actively dripping with a crimson fluid.

Rowan positioned himself behind me, body rigid. Elle didn’t flinch at their protectiveness. She expected it. She feared it. “What is it?” Rowan asked. Elle took a long breath. A shaky breath. “The thing Morana is waking,” she began, choosing her words with painful care, “is older than history itself. Older than the Moon Goddess.” A chill rippled down my spine. “What is it called?” I whispered. Elle looked at me with a mixture of fear and sadness. “The Umbrathal.”