Nemesis Creepypasta Novels & Stories

I tried to open my eyes, but it was as if someone had glued my eyelids shut. The air shifted. Suddenly, I wasn’t in bed anymore—I was somewhere else. A dark enclosure. Dim light flickered from distant corners. The whispers multiplied, louder, overlapping. Voices whispering, shouting, screaming the same words: Blood of my blood. Before his first moon. Hands—scaly, jagged hands—slid across my body. Claws dug deep into my skin, cutting and binding me to their madness. A scream ripped out of me, raw and guttural. It echoed so violently the walls trembled. Darkness poured in, smothering every trace of light until nothing remained but the sound of my fear.

But early this morning I received an email from Capewoods Techs Ltd, a company I put my all into. But sadly, it had been given to Mirabelle and Marcus. It all felt like a dream to me. One day I was about to celebrate my wedding anniversary with my husband and the next few hours I am finding out he has been screwing my sister this whole time? And then a few months after, boom they're getting married? And now the only thing that tied to my mom and my sanity was about to be ripped out from me? The resentment burned deep and I could only address the bull by the horn, which was why I pushed the glass door open.

I scraped my nails over my neck and shivered. "Stop it. You're making me itch now." "See? Fancy shit does that to you." "Didn't you grow up wealthy?" I stiffened and turned to him. "How do you know that?" "I know everything about you." "Creepy." "Intelligent," he countered. "The person who knows the most in a room is always the most dangerous." His green eyes looked right through me and I turned around again. Okay, so he's obsessive and nuts. Noted.

The shadows around my feet rise in answer, forming faint shapes: hooded figures, scythes, a distant throne of bone. A reminder. *You will be hated. Feared. Hunted.* If I walk into that camp, they’ll know me. They’ll see the snow-white hair, the sharp blue eyes, the unnatural quiet that clings to me like smoke. They’ll see the black veins creeping up my wrist. The feather that won’t leave my palm. And when the first dead thing answers my call—when the shadows move at my command—they will not see a child survivor. They will see the Necromantress.

But the pain didn’t exist there, moreover her hands were placed at the center of her chest between her heart and mana core. Her body started to transform, turning into an inhuman monster that was described by rumors as the “Mist Creeper” a being that could not be defeated with just blade and magic. The Mist Creeper was notorious for devouring adventurers and removing their sanity. But it was supposedly only rumors told by adventurers to look better or to give themselves something to boast about, up until they saw the real thing. Lyon felt shiver down his spine as the events seemed like it had happened right in front of him before, it was as if he was seeing a de javu.

Peter dropped his hands. “You found out more quickly than I expected. That my dear is smart.” Avery looked at him from head to toe, she put her hands on the trigger. “I don't mind blowing off your head. Who are you?” She asked him, her head spinning from what's going on. He only smiled and moved. “I promise you, I will shoot you if you don't stand still and start talking” she said to him already pulling the trigger. “My Name is Arthur Crimson. The leader of the Crimson Red. Nice to meet you.” He said stretching his hands out for a handshake.

I sit down on the couch beside her and wait for her to start. “You know how you told me about the nightmares you were having and that they started about a year ago.” “Yeah.” I say wondering where she’s going with this conversation. “Well I was looking it up on the Internet about three days ago and I found a peculiar website that had strange information on it. It was called Ma vista. I don’t know what that means but I think you are one of the three that live in the world at one time.” She looks over at me to see if I am comprehending what she’s saying, “They were created to stop monsters from destroying the human race, the website said that it started 4 thousand years ago when a wizard realis

Nelanian ripped it open and read the name scrawled in calligraphy. 'Assassinate Mr. Starkridge by the 20th of this month.' It was stated. Nelanian remembered who he was at that point. "I am Zegrath Void, The Necessary Evil and Keeper of Darkness, the hundred and seventh to hold the title," he said in his brain as he descended the hill.

“She wrote it once. Just once. ‘If Nytheras stirs, the moon’s light will falter.’ I never knew what it meant.” Grayson frowned. “Is it a creature?” I turned the page. There were drawings—vague outlines of something massive, its form shifting between wolf, shadow, and something serpentine. The script beneath was jagged and rushed, as if the scribe had written it in panic. Nytheras, the Forgotten. The Wolf Before the First Moon. The One Who Devours Spirits. I read aloud as my voice trembled. “Bound beneath the Black Gorge. Fed by blood. Summoned by betrayal and vengeance. Immune to claw or fang. Can only be silenced by the Moon’s Flame.”

Make sure your hair is pinned back the way he likes it. ​My heart sank, heavy as lead. The contrast between the cold, pressuring text from my sister and the horrific warning I had just received from Diva's possessed body was entirely seamless. They were working in a terrifying harmony. Everyone around me—my friends, my family, the very laws of reality—was enforcing the exact same narrative, pushing me right back into the lion's den. I was being managed, steered by invisible hands toward a destiny I had already died facing once before.