Romans & histoires Mysterious Writing Blackwater

“On top of that, there’s a moat surrounding Blackwater City called Blackwater River. The water in this river is rapid, and it looks like a vast black river. It is the namesake of Blackwater City. “The river is also quite peculiar as nothing from the outside world can float on it. Only special boats from Blackwater City can traverse the river safely.” That characteristic of the river was similar to the underworld. Then, they began a long flight. Despite the speedy immortal artifact vessel that Caelum had prepared for Andrius, it took them a long time to get to the extreme north. “Look!” Mark pointed at a black dot on the horizon. “That’s Blackwater City. Blackwater River doesn’t reflect light

" It just happens to be a coincidence that the gift given to you on your birthday contains the secret to Luke's demise and you happen to be a werewolf." "I know, right?" Daniel laughed. " This life is full of mysteries." "But how can we trust what is written on that paper?" Tomiwa asked sceptically. "Have you forgotten?" Annabelle spoke up." The book we read at Tisha's place. It said the warlock sealed the secret to killing Luke in silver and aquamarine. Daniel's necklace is silver and the W sign on it happens to be blue in color. Aquamarine is another color for blue."

Luca asked, voice still rough with sleep. “Better.” Zayne tapped his own temple. “Well she said it's like following a smell you can’t quite name.” Elara moved quietly, folding the blanket, her movements were precise, but her eyes kept drifting to Luca, as if reassuring herself he was real. “The Blackwater source is deep in the northern wastes.” she said softly. “It is a land of dead trees and silent birds, the packs avoid that land, because the magic there is… old and hungry.” “Sounds cozy.” I grunted, pushing myself to stand. A sharp pull in my side made me suck in a breath Luca was at my elbow instantly.

"But I need to do it anyway." We walk in silence for a while. The trees get thicker, the darkness deeper. My eyes adjust slowly to the lack of light. Then I see it. A clearing up ahead. And in the middle of that clearing, the Darkwater Lake. Even from this distance, I can feel something wrong about it. The water is completely black, darker than the night sky above it. No stars reflect on its surface. No moon shines there. It's like looking at a hole in the world.

Well, at least I finally got something I can do as a mage, right? Water splintered like glistening crystals as I turned and followed the rhythm with precision. I closed my eyes as I continued on my track, there was another smooth splash. Once again, I turned and leaped a little, then faced the audience and opened my eyes. I thought I'd see my expectants watching me in awe. But to my surprise, my line of vision was directed to a pair of unfamiliar pitch black eyes, the darkest shade of black I've ever seen in my whole life.

, he urged me. I was stuck. I did not know if I should say anything, as I was sure he would insist that we return. “If the waters turn black… you must turn immediately”, Solomon’s voice echoed in my head. “Roman… Roman!!!” I called him over with urgency. He started mumbling and begrudgingly came over, chewing on a piece of dried meat and bringing me a portion too. “Look!”, I said, pointing at the spring, which glistened under the dark sky, its dark waters somehow standing out in this maze of nothingness. His eyes locked on me – I knew he understood what I was saying. Shrugging away, and his mouth still full while talking, he replied.. “Soo… hmmmhm.. And??? Solomon said.. if water goes.. yam.

One sunny afternoon, as Liam and Jake enjoyed a leisurely stroll through a bustling city park, they stumbled upon a small outdoor art exhibition. Intrigued, they decided to explore the vibrant display of paintings and sculptures. As they admired the artwork, Liam's eyes were drawn to a particular painting—a mesmerising portrait of a mysterious woman with striking resemblance to Jake. The artist, a young and talented painter named Lucas, approached them, beaming with pride at his creation. "Ah, I see you've noticed my latest masterpiece," Lucas exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "This painting is inspired by the beauty and complexity of human relationships.

The nerves I thought I had under control stir again, fluttering under my ribs. Drake sits beside me, his broad shoulders tense, gaze fixed somewhere in the distance. He doesn’t speak right away. Instead, he takes a long sip of his coffee, as if trying to decide where to begin. I wait, watching the wind stir the branches above us. Finally, his voice breaks the quiet. Low. Measured. “There have been attacks. On werewolf packs. Blackwater hasn't been attacked but there have been a few close to home.” I stiffen, already knowing this isn’t a normal kind of violence.

I watched, transfixed despite the pain, as my magic sought out whatever darkness had taken root inside him. But the second that light entered him, something else started oozing from his wounds. Disgusting, greasy black mist that smelled like old copper and stagnant swamp water rose from his body. It looked heavy, almost like liquid soot, dripping over the side of the white sheets and leaving dark stains wherever it touched. My stomach turned at the sight of it, bile rising in my throat. I'd never seen anything so fundamentally wrong, so opposed to life itself.

The other began chanting, her voice low and steady, weaving the air with each syllable until the space around them felt heavier, pressing in on lungs and bones alike. In the center of the table sat a small, shallow bowl. Inside, water reflected the flicker of candlelight until the surface began to ripple though no wind touched it. Shapes formed in the water. First, the treeline. Then the grave. Then eyes. Black eyes, glinting with something that wasn’t wolf, wasn’t human. Something older. The dark-haired sister’s voice wavered. “It’s closer than we thought.”