Morrigan Aensland Novels & Stories

movement, a man who believed biology was a flaw to be corrected. On the right drifted Morrigan. She was a Blood Witch, draped in layers of tattered red silk that seemed to move independently of the wind. She was barefoot on the rusted metal, yet her feet left no sound. Her face was hidden behind a veil of black lace, but Ethan could feel her gaze—it felt like spiders crawling on his skin. And in the center walked Volkov. The Lycan.

I said instead. Her expression softened slightly. But there was fear behind her eyes now. “Then we have to find out who the contract was made with.” --- Together, we dug through every record in the library, pulling out dusty ledgers and cryptic journals. Slowly, the puzzle came together. A name began appearing again and again in Gregory Blackwell’s writings. Lady Morrigan. A woman of fog and shadow. An ancient being. Some called her a witch. Others a demon. She came to Gregory on a blood moon and offered him a deal—wealth, protection, and eternal legacy. In return: a blood bride, once every hundred years.

"Did you really think you could intimdate me because you're loaded with money? Because you're an Austin? Do you think your money has any value to me? Think again. "You're looking remorseful now because you've realized who I am. What if you didn't get to know my identity? Let me tell you, learn to respect people regardless of who or what they are. This attitude of yours won't get you anywhere in life. "I screamed because I thought that substance was something else. By the way, you asked if my parents can afford that wine. To answer you, my parents can buy you and everything involving you and they'll still have change. I am Annabelle Siromani and you will not disrespect me or my family."

“It’s been a long time.” My blood ran cold. “You.” Rowan stiffened beside me, his eyes narrowing as he recognized the figure. “What the hell are you doing here?” The figure—Morrigan, a powerful rogue wolf with a reputation for cruelty—smiled wickedly, her eyes gleaming with malice. “I’ve come to collect what’s mine.” “Silverwood will never be yours,” I spat, my anger rising to the surface. “You have no claim here.” Morrigan chuckled darkly, the sound sending a ripple of unease through the wolves surrounding her.

“Emily, no offence, you know nothing. Yeah and that is not all that he is. He is also one of our ruthless killers, who doesn’t think twice before putting his life in danger. You can romanticize him all you want, but the devil wrapped in silk is still the devil.” “Yeah but maybe-“ “No, you can’t be the girl who makes him realize life is worth living and stuff and that killing is bad.” “Why do people always know what I am going to say? Am I really that predictable?” I ask him, almost upset that Jake, who barely knows me is guessing my exact next words. “Yes and trust me you can’t be that person but if you really need to talk to someone you can talk to Mary.” “Mary as in Nathan’s grandmother?”

the woman announced as she walked behind him and kissed his neck, she smiled as she looked at us, she stayed leaning near Arimas whilst he played with her hair "I'm Thomas Birch, of the Unitaur coven, and ...." "Wait didn't you say you were from black wolf?" the woman insisted standing up straight now, even Arimas sat up straight. "No, he said we had just come from there, we were only visiting" I corrected "I'm Anastasia, queen of the seven kingdoms" Arimas stood up so fast I thought he might get whiplash, he put his drink down on the table near the sofa and started buttoning his shirt, I wanted to laugh at the sight

“Many people connect Morgan Le Fay to the Morrigan through the goddess Modron, of course, the Divine Mother. Many of the tales of both echo each other and so it occurs to me that our mother is given a different face and name by each person that worships her, none truly knowing her real name. So, Morgana is a wonderful name, don’t you think?” She picked up the bowl and began to sprinkle a circle on the ground big enough for two. “Aislen is also a wonderful name, it means a vision or dream. I wonder if your mother knew that?” She completed the circle and paused to toe off her ballet slippers before stepping into the ring of salt and sinking gracefully into a cross legged position. “I wouldn’t

She looked up at me, raising her hand to caress my cheek. “I knew your ancestor when I was a young lady much like yourself. She was a spiteful and bitter woman who met her much deserved end.” Her voice creaked but was gentle as she turned to the crowd.”My children, it gives me great pleasure to introduce you to Callista o kardia, the love of Morpheus and the future princess of the Dreamlands.” Kardia? Callista the heart? Since when was I known as that? I didn’t have a chance to ask the elderly woman, we were engulfed by the cheering of the crowd.

“Why? You have no appointment. It’s busy here.” “Yeah?” she pouted a bit, thinking over it for a moment. “Eh, what about that guy? The guy who’s obsessed with playing computer games? Is he working here at the moment?” She had a bit of suspicion of that guy she was talking about, Oswald. He looked like he knew a lot about computers and technology whatever he does in his life. Or maybe Theo hired people from the outside? “They’re out of town, I’m the only one currently here.” Yohan was a bit of a cold person but Selene wasn’t fazed.

Then the Beta stepped forward with a daughter at his side—tall, polished, wearing a ceremonial gown like she’d been born into it. Selah Dorne. Her scent rolled across the clearing like roses over rot—too sweet, too sharp, too deliberate. Kieran faced her without looking away from me. “I accept Selah Dorne,” he said, as if the words didn’t cost him anything. The priest hesitated—then lifted the bowl, forced by politics, by pressure, by the pack’s watching eyes. The Moonwater shimmered. And then— It turned black. A ripple spread across the surface, dark as bruised ink.