Nanomancer Reborn Novels & Stories

It was like Monique had disappeared, and honestly that worried me more than her threats On the fourth day, the investigator called. “I have something” he said. I put the call on speaker, my pulse quickening “She’s using a new name, Monique isn’t even her real first name.” That didn’t surprise me since I already knew. “Whats her real name” “Veronica hale,”he replied “And this is not her first time.” I paused “First time for what?” “Attached herself to powerful men. Destroyed companies. Embezzled fundz. Then disappeared right before everything collapsed.”

I just had to dedicate the time to explain that I wasn't their Alpha's wife. It was still hard to believe that I was alive. And now that I was staring at the mirror, clad in clean clothes, I was more than shocked. My hair was dark, and this one was blonde. These features were sharper. Bolder. I didn't have my brown eyes anymore. I was now staring back at blue frosty ones. My hands flew to my mouth immediately. I was shaking all over. “What is this?” I whispered. “Your second chance,” a voice in my head whispered. “You are now Alara.”

"He was always obsessed with Father's 'true' legacy. He thought I had corrupted it, made it commercial, soulless. This… this would be the ultimate vindication for him. To wield the 'pure' Aegis." “Maybe,” Sabe said, but he sounded unconvinced. He was staring at the serial code as if it were a cipher. “But does Marcus have the technical genius to do this? To not just possess the core, but to rebirth it? This level of nano-fabrication is beyond state-of-the-art.” Another ghost entered the room. Anton could feel its presence like a drop in temperature. “My father,” he whispered, the idea so horrifying he could barely give it voice. “What if he’s not dead?”

"I'll watch over balance. If that means warning when an aspect corrupts, I will. If it means easing transition between imprisonments, I will. If it means standing as reminder of failure's cost, I will." "For how long?" Marcus smiled—the first genuine smile we'd seen from him in months. "Until I'm no longer needed. However long that takes." Luna's threads solidified into permanent connection. Marcus, guardian reborn, purified through understanding. The broken had been healed through breaking completely first.

And I’ve been the sidekick. No, that’s not entirely true. I am not the person I was. I've travelled too, I but I haven’t walked as far yet. I was just a musician, struggling to be normal in a mundane world. Now I am the Necromancer, the commander of an army. Not Aiden’s army, but that of Blackmarsh. He has his Goddess, I have Blackmarsh, and I serve it as he serves her. I’m still working out what that really means.

Panic began to simmer in the back of my mind, threatening to boil over. A dreadful suspicion took root, one that I desperately didn't want to acknowledge. The man was a Necromancer, and I had a sinking feeling that I was no longer among the living. The truth hit me like a ton of bricks: I was a Risen, a creature brought back from the dead through dark magic. My mind recoiled in horror as I grappled with the implications of this newfound reality.

She said, “I can't lose you again.” “I’ll be fine, don't worry,” I promised just as I felt a whoosh of air pull at me, and I knew I was back to the Dark Moon pack, back to the forest. I opened my eyes and fear swept through me immediately, standing in front of me, his eyes on mine was a member of the pack, and he had seen me, the Luna teleport - an ability only possible for sorcerers.

Tamara whispered her fear to her best friend through teary eyes. Marco took a step forward and fell to his knees at the base of the bathtub. “Look at me,” he placed his finger under Tamara’s chin. “You’re you. You are still perfect, you just did some things. And that’s okay,” Tamara blinked with tears down her eyes. How could she have contemplated cutting him out of her life? Marco was her backbone. The reason, she was even alive. He had given her a second chance at life. “I’m done with the revenge plan,” Tamara whispered.

Their mouths gaped, sewn shut with thread that glowed faintly, trapping centuries of screams. They had once been warriors. Wolves. Mages. Leaders. Banished, betrayed, erased. Now, they belonged to me. A figure emerged from the skeletal trees. He was tall, draped in rotting velvet that reeked of earth and decay. His face was hidden by a jagged mask fashioned from bone. The Necromancer. “You summoned me,” he rasped, his voice grating like stone on stone. “You know the price.” I rose to my feet, my shadow stretching across the poisoned earth in ways no living thing’s should. “I’ve already paid.”

“That’s impossible. The Gate—” “—chose another,” Darian said softly, stepping from the swamp. “But it did not discard me. It remade me.” He extended a hand. Twelve figures rose from the swamp behind him. Twisted bodies cloaked in arcane armor. Runic brands across their faces. Eyes glowing silver and dark. Wolves that had been reforged—neither dead nor living. Gateborn. Varion tried to run. He didn’t make it two steps before the shadows swallowed him.