Mystic Ruins Mga Nobela at Kwento

She was always calm under pressure, but whatever she’d seen had shaken her to the core. “How far?” I asked, keeping my voice low. “Just past the southern ridge,” Mara said without turning. “Near the ruins.” The ruins. They weren’t just old stones, those crumbled walls used to be the heart of our ancestors’ stronghold before the pack splintered. Now, most of us avoided them. Too much blood had been spilled there. Too many curses whispered about the Hollow. When we arrived, the moon had barely begun to rise. Pale light stretched over the fallen stones like bones in the grass. The wind stirred again, soft but sharp, like a blade dragging across the skin.

"Oh, she did? sorry, I'm just throwing assumptions. I must've misheard her." Rachelia slightly frowned and was about to ask more, but then they arrived at the ruins deep inside Mt. Alnath. The ruins were well lit by magical amber lampposts, but it was too quiet when it should've been lively with mythfolks living there. The three Scions looked over and found the ruins were empty and its makeshift doors broken down. Mell scratched his beard and shook his head. "Man, look at this place. I could've make it a thousand times better had the Hymnchanter asked me to."

Instead, I directed Hades towards the Mystic Mountains, and off we flew. The Mystic Mountains were an ancient mountain range that some claimed were older than the oceans. They were the birthplace of magic, their forests rumored to hold all the secrets to the magical world. It was dangerous to enter these mountains–there were many stories of explorers getting lost in the hills, never to be seen again. The only person I knew who had been to the Mystic Mountains was Esmeralda, and even she refused to speak of her time there. Still, I was desperate. I hoped that the mountains would provide some kind of idea or answer to taking over the throne. Perhaps those infamous trees would sense my need for

"The ruins are believed to hold powerful relics, remnants of ancient civilizations. We need to explore these sites thoroughly but cautiously. There are dangers within—both known and unknown." General O'Malley continued, "You’re not the only team sent to explore these ruins, but you are the only one with the clearance for the deepest chambers. Make no mistake, the dangers in these ruins are real, and only the elite can handle what lies ahead." General O'Malley continued, his tone growing more serious. "We have confirmed that the Ancient Ruins you're exploring belonged to Cyrus West, the right-hand man of Prince Egon himself. This makes the ruins not only a treasure trove of lost relics but al

but the truth is Mystic fall is a town that harboured all kinds of mythical creatures, the kinds of Werewolves, Witches, The wailing fairies, seers including humans Each kind having their territory except for the dark witches who chose to stay hidden, only few of the humans living in the town are aware of their existence but kept sealed lips so as to not draw danger to their home and community.

After walking for a while, Adrian asked, "By the way, isn't this place an ancient spatial rift? How come there are also great ruins here?" Sameer replied, "No, it's not that. This place used to be a battlefield between humans and monsters in ancient times. We're just here trying our luck, hoping to find some ancient treasures that were left behind. For small factions like ours, finding some remaining spirit treasures in those ruins would already be a blessing." "I see." Adrian nodded in agreement.

Mike spoke up, his voice low but commanding. Dorian met his gaze, unflinching. “What you’re facing isn’t just some rogue force of nature. The shadow isn’t just a creature—it’s a manifestation of something much older, something tied to the very foundation of this world. The ruins you’ve found are not just a place; they are a key.” I felt a chill crawl down my spine. The ruins were more than just a forgotten temple or ancient site; they were a gateway. “A key to what?” I asked, my words barely above a whisper, knowing the answer might be worse than anything I could imagine.

But those who coveted it had never returned to tell its truths. Alistair stepped forward, his breath visible in the cold air. The ruins before them were carved into the mountainside, the entrance framed by weathered stone pillars etched with cryptic symbols. “This is it,” Alistair murmured. His dark eyes gleamed with triumph. Edric, the elder of the two, remained cautious. His grip tightened on the hilt of his sword as he eyed the ruins. “We don’t know what lies within.” Alistair scoffed, brushing dust from his tunic. “We did not journey through war-torn lands and cursed valleys just to hesitate at the doorstep of greatness.”

I opened my mouth in complete surprise. Izan parked the SUV in the shadow of one of the crumbling walls and looked at me expectantly. “What do you think of this place?” he asked carefully. “Are these ruins of an old-world fortress?” I asked incredulously. “They are,” Izan said smugly. “It's our best kept secret.” “But the fortresses and castles were torn down; it was the orders of the old magic treaty,” I said in disbelief. “How does this ruin even exist or stand?”

I wasn’t one of them—but I still had blood on my hands. Was this another trap? A setup? Maybe. But honestly? I didn’t care. Because even if it was... They’ll regret choosing me. The horizon split open like a secret as the island came into view. Jagged cliffs. Fog-thick trees. And at the center of it all, perched like a vulture’s nest, stood the mansion. Black stone. Gothic towers. Windows that looked like eyes. Welcome to Mystique Gore.