The Alpha King's Breeder
It’s the only copy left of the grimoire, The Book of Whispers, the recipes within capable of undoing the fabric of time.
My necklace glows and warms against my skin, it’s light faint as it bleeds through the fabric of my sweatshirt. “Show me where it is,” I command my powers.
I close my eyes as I move into the study, stretching out my hand. Faint whispers drift toward me in a language long lost to time. Ageless, genderless voices that mingle, hissing and chanting as my fingers brush over the spines of books, over Misty’s stationary computer, her notebooks.
Bab Populer