Mysterious Writing Blackwater Novels & Stories

“Don’t play games with me, Isla. I need to know what’s written there, so I’ll know what has to be destroyed. If the vampires are hunting for a cure, I can’t let them have it.” I lowered my eyes back to the journal, fingers pressed against its worn cover like I could hide the content in it inside my palms. Killian’s stare didn’t move. Liam shifted uneasily beside us, waiting, but he wasn't saying anything. “It’s not what you think,” I finally murmured. My throat felt dry, like every word cost me. “It doesn’t spell out a cure step by step. There are fragments, rituals, names, warnings. And something about the Blackwoods. They’re mentioned more than once.”

"What in the hell…" The water was dark. Moving too slow, thick at the edges, with that smell underneath it, the sweet rotting smell that I had unfortunately memorised. Three rabbits lay stiff near the water's edge, their fur matted with black residue, their small bodies already being absorbed by it at the edges. My wolf made a low, flat sound inside my chest. "Yeah," I said. "I see it." I stood, stepped back from the bank, and ran. "Rabbits," I said, coming through the kitchen door. "Three of them, dead, by the stream. Black residue, the same as everything else. And the water is wrong, it's dark, it's slow, it smells like the den."

“Doubt keeps you alive.” He reached for a book from the nearest shelf and flipped it open. The pages were blank. “Do you know why my library has no dust?” I shook my head. “Because the books breathe,” he said. “They exhale what others forget.” He offered the book to me. The pages shifted—faint outlines forming, fading, forming again. Names, dates, a line of ink that moved like a pulse: Evelyn Blackthorne arrived under a waning moon. I slammed it shut. “You’re writing my story.”

I lay on the ground, my heart racing and my body shaking as I waited for the earthquake to cease. I felt stones and mud fall on me, brushing open my skin. I remained silent but not calm. I was trembling in fear, hoping the stones wouldn't kill me. As I waited for the quivering to stop, my head swung to the side, and I saw something that I had failed to notice on the walls that I had walked past. My shaking hand raised and I brushed my hand against the words inscribed on the lower part of the wall. “A Blackwater wolf to kill them all,” I whispered. My chest tightened and I felt a nauseous feeling hit me.

only one sentence had been written. The greatest story was never meant to be read... The greatest story was never meant to be read... The words did not fade. They slowly lifted from the page itself, floating into the air like silver mist. No one spoke. The sea became perfectly still. Even the giant eye beneath the glass path remained frozen. Adrian stepped toward the desk. The Pen of Beginnings vibrated in his hand. Not with fear. With recognition. The black book was calling to it. The gray-coated man quietly whispered,

“They were sane.” The entire hall stilled. “They fought like warriors aware of every strike. One even begged for death, saying he was being called back to the roots. We burned the remains, but the ground beneath them...” she glanced at Lucifer..“it bled blood but not crimson, it was black" Next was Alpha Cade Dauntless Evergreen, of Riverdale Pack, master of water. His presence was calm yet powerful, like the rivers he commanded. “The attacks reached us shortly after the Knight River incident. The rogues came through the mist along our bay. When I drowned one to stop his rampage, the water turned black. It was alive, writhing with something unnatural.”

"I need to see it." We left Alexei with the column and moved west through the tree line and reached the river bank in four minutes and I looked at what Morvanna had done to it and felt something cold move through me that had nothing to do with temperature. The water was black. Not dark from depth or shadow. Black the way oil is black. Moving with the particular sluggish heaviness of something that had been replaced rather than contaminated. The smell coming off it was the same rot we had smelled on the road but stronger here, concentrated, the source of what was spreading outward through the land in every direction from the water lines.

The edges ragged and jagged tears bit into the words. Lloyd peered close, the rips making it a bit harder to read, as well as the uneven script, written by a hand that had been shaking. The sun is bright. But all around us is darkness. I could have all the gold in the world. The hidden locations are wide open. But the cost is crippling. I had much of it tossed over the side. The weeds can conceal it and the drowned men can have use of it. The beast knows I came close to finding some way out. And the consequence was worse. Their souls, my own and the blood of children. It won't be sated until a hundred or maybe more have been slaughtered.

Blood and Water is a story that points to a civil war in West Africa, Nigeria and the hovering hunger for survival by two teenage boys. Hope you enjoy. Completed version with no coins for now. Make sure you drop your reviews... *** Rumours of a War A proverb says that when it rains everyday, there is a bound of sorrow within the rain. Maybe we were not that rich but we were happy or we claimed to be. The only problem was that I was no longer in school. I think I liked it that way, school stress was so hard especially now that I was in the junior secondary.

“It’s never over.” She turned toward the shattered archway where dawn spilled into the snow. “But it’s our turn to write what comes next.” Zevran fell into step beside her, their hands brushing once—no claim, no confession, just alignment. Behind them, the Court whispered. Ahead of them, the mountains waited. And beneath them, far below, the heart of the world dreamed of a Black Moon rising—and the woman who might finally teach it mercy.