Percival Graves Novels & Stories

Percival continued, "who happened to cross my path one day. I had never seen anyone like her before. I was bewitched, obsessed by her spirit... her life force. I came back to the place where she worked night after night, and I spoke to her every time, but she kept politely turning me down. Then, one night I waited for her in the parking lot when her shift ended. I wanted to make her see reason, make her understand that she was meant to be mine. But... she resisted, and before I could stop myself, I sank my teeth in her and drained her. When I finally stopped, it was too late to turn her into a vampire. She was dead." Justin gasped. "You killed my mother?" he asked, his voice barely more than

The waterfall clearing looked as peaceful as ever, but Darius’s grave loomed behind me, staring at me from the shadows. Percival noticed my gaze and let out a soft sigh, leaning in close to whisper in my ear. "I’m sorry you had to go through that." He tried to take my hand, but I stopped him. "Have you forgiven him for what he did?" I’d been dying to ask. There was a quiet moment. Percival wrapped his tall frame around me to shield me from the cold, his hands slipping to my waist, chin resting on my head. "I’ve made peace with it," he said quietly.

He touched the urn, his voice hoarse, "Baby, your mom doesn't want me anymore... If you're with her, take good care of her." Feeling something cold on his face, Percival realized he'd started crying without noticing. Back at Windwatch, he found a large burial plot and buried the ashes. There was a tombstone but no name, a half-lonely grave. In the winter dusk, it looked desolate. Percival sat by the grave, "Eulalia, if we had met later, when I knew how to love and be gentle, could we have made it?" Meeting the right person at the wrong time always ends in tragedy, especially when their journey was only filled with pain.

Snow blanketed the landscape. We stopped before a solitary grave. Percy stepped out first, then came around to help me, his hand steadying me as my feet met the frozen ground. The headstone was simple, weathered by time and snow, the name carved into it worn but still legible. I read it twice before it fully sank in. “This is my father,” Percy said. I turned to him. “He was a healer in our pack,” he continued. “One of the best.” “He believed,” Percy said, his gaze fixed on the grave, “that everyone could be saved. That pain was something to be treated.”

I felt a deep, gnawing guilt—an unshakable blame that I wasn’t better prepared or more present when my people needed me most. “Has anyone checked on the Graces?” I urged, my voice sharp with urgency. My hands clenched into fists, my sense of panic mounting. “We need to leave immediately.” “Sir, I’m sorry to report that the parents are dead and Seraphina is missing,” Percival called from the bottom of the hill. His words struck me like a physical blow.

As I stared blankly at the gravestone, the elderly cemetery caretaker approached and struck up a conversation with me. "Sir, do you know Old Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan? I don't think I've ever seen you here before." It was such a simple question, yet it made my heart throb in pain all the same. After all, who am I when the place that should have belonged to Jessica's husband had already been engraved with Christian's name? Although I was standing under the sunlight, I felt like some lowly rat that ought to hide in the shadows. How could I stand before these gravestones when I didn't have a respectable identity that I could claim aloud?

He sneered, urging me on, "Bring the camera closer. Let us see how you break the world record!" I wasn't provoked by Zachary. Gasping for breath, I raised the axe over my head and swung down toward the layer of ice and snow protecting the pipeline. "This axe of mine is for dealing with wild animals at the base, and it can slice through bear hide… "Do the math. How long do you think it'll take me to dig down to the pipeline?" As the base's communications officer, Zachary knew better than anyone that once the pipeline ruptured, in the polar night at minus fifty degrees, no one would survive long enough to wait for rescue.

looking helpless as he lost the only thing that made him a god: his land. "You look like you're staring at a funeral," Silas rumbled, standing by the window. His silhouette appeared massive against the grey sky. "I am," I whispered. My voice was a dry rasp, like a dead leaf when crushed. "I'm watching the burial of the Crescent Alpha. I just didn't expect the scene to look so... boring, and ordinary…" My cough broke the silence, a deep, racking tremor that made my ribs feel like they were being snapped back one by one. I pressed a tissue to my mouth that quickly soaked in a dark, thick crimson. I didn't panic; that was for people who still had a future.

"Nothing will happen to me. I've got the power and the glory. Nothing's going to happen to me. I know that." "So that's what this world is like," Percival whispered and smiled. He wasn't afraid to die. He just looked at the window, behind which stood the maid who had told Jean that he had heard everything. He looked at her and smiled. After all, if it wasn't for her, his plan would have worked. But the truth was that people were caring only about the strong ones. He, on the other hand, was weak, and so was Adelard. Hearing the crunch of his fingers and then the crunch of death's hand, Percival closed his eyes and when he heard a shot, he fell violently to the ground. He felt no pain. He felt