Oz Vessalius Novels & Stories

"Damn it, Ethan, I've had enough. I've seen this vessel, and they are in my custody." "So the rumours were right," Alpha Rutherford spoke. He always liked being addressed by his title and last name. "Why are you still keeping this vessel? This is upsetting the already delicate power balances within our pack, it's unacceptable!" He objected to it. "This vessel has to be killed, it can't be alive." "I totally agree with Alpha Rutherford, it's unacceptable! Said vessel possesses a power that is too much for someone to have, it has to be taken away, and killing the vessel is the right choice!" Nathan supported.

He looked like a bitch as Vincenzo held him up, his legs dangling in the air. I gasped as I heard Elijah's neck snap and fall to one side. Alpha Vincenzo threw his lifeless body to one side and looked towards the shelf I was watching from. I gasped and turned away, running as fast as I could. If Vincenzo caught me, it would be over for me. As I ran blindly towards my room to pack up and head back to my pack, two things were sure in my mind. One, Vincenzo was definitely in love with Roberta. The rage I saw in his eyes as he killed Elijah for touching her confirmed it. He was ready to start a war for her.

A younger version of his grandmother stands beside several other researchers. One face among them immediately draws attention. Malachar swears softly. “No.” Draven narrows his eyes. “You know him?” “Yes.” Malachar's voice grows darker. “Everyone knows him.” The name beneath the photograph confirms it. Elias Voss. The founder of modern tribunal doctrine. The architect responsible for institutional suppression policies. Vaelith looks back toward the image. The man is smiling. Standing beside researchers who still believed synchronization could improve lives. The contradiction feels almost impossible.

Case said, turning the tablet toward them. The external cameras showed a single figure standing in the center of the burning basin. The snow around the figure was melting into black slush. He wasn't wearing armor. He wore a simple, tattered shroud of white linen. He was tall, gaunt, and his skin was a translucent, glowing marble. He didn't have eyes, only two pits of swirling, abyssal violet light. This was the man Julian had tried to copy. This was the source of the Voss blood, pulled from the ice decades ago. The Alpha.