Novelas y relatos de Rashek Mistborn

But deep down, she knew there was more as to why she wanted to see him. ~ The Same Day. Ryker's Fortress. Ryker's Fortress, a grotesque monument to his ambition and ruthlessness, was nestled deep within a dense, ancient forest. The very air around it seemed to crackle with a dark energy. It was a place where shadows held tangible weight, and fear was a constant companion. He called them the Bloodshed Warriors, his rogue army, a band of outcasts, criminals and power-hungry wolves drawn to his magnetic charisma and promises of dominion.

"Oh yah. He won't be capturing and selling people anymore, don't worry about that." "Good. Anyways. She shows up, the seller tells me she killed 5 of his men after them trying to capture her for 2 months. An impressive feat in itself. She's calm, collected, and by the time she gets to my room she starts losing control of her emotions or something and weird stuff starts happening. Her nails inbedd in my desk, I tell her wolves are alive and she burns a hole in her dress? Come on Kian. This isn't weird to you at all?" I hear somebody sighing, and steps pacing the house.

"I need you to run for your life and find Dimitry before Wyatt or Sybil get to you. You have to find Dimitry and mark him. Do you understand?" Misty nodded, her mind fixed on locating her mate and claiming him as her own. She gently touched Hazel's wound, her hand trembling with concern, but quickly recoiled when a loud thud reverberated against the iron bars. The noise startled both Misty and Hazel, but for now, they were shielded behind the sturdy bars that Xerxes was fiercely shaking.

Shapes shifted in it — wolves with eyes like coals, circling. Silas uncorked another vial and flung its contents in an arc. The mist hissed and split, a corridor of shimmering silver opening through the ranks of attackers. “Go!” he barked. They sprinted through the gap. The mist clawed at their faces. Ava caught flashes — teeth, claws, fur bristling — but the flare’s corridor held long enough for them to reach the treeline. Pine needles swallowed their footsteps; the forest closed around them.

Simon turned off the engine, and they shared a moment of quiet solidarity, their thoughts aligned on the mission at hand. As they exited the car, the rain continued to pour down, drenching them as they stood on the threshold of the warehouse. In the midst of the storm, their resolve remained unwavering. Masks adorned their faces, bulletproof attire cloaked their bodies, and a shared purpose bound them together. Drake's gaze locked onto the entrance of the warehouse, his heart pounding in his chest. This was the moment—the moment when they would face the unknown, confront danger, lie against innocents .

Rain pattered soft on Sienna’s hood, a steady drip that matched the thud of her boots on the muddy path. Lila led the way—small, hunched, her coat too big, her steps shaky like she’d collapse any second—and Sienna followed, her jaw tight, the vial a cold lump in her pocket. Roman trailed a few paces back, silent, his presence a weight she couldn’t shake—his heat, his kiss, still burning on her lips, a mistake she couldn’t unmake. Her chest ached, raw and tangled, and she hated it—hated him for making her feel it, hated herself for letting him in even that much.

The Sombra women did not gather. They formed. A single purpose. A single fury. An empire sharpening its teeth. Ricardo didn’t move toward the boy who touched his daughter. He didn’t have to. This was Sombra’s women’s work. Nerisa closed her eyes once. When she opened them again, the softness was gone. Only the cold, immaculate clarity of a storm remained. “Let’s go,” she said. Odesa tied her hair back. Hiraya lifted her palms and let the sigils burn awake beneath her skin.

I freeze as an unfamiliar, ageless, and genderless voice fills my head like someone screaming in my ear. “Warrior of the ages, the gods call you. How they gossip about your victories. I believe they’re right. Come to me, child of blood and vengeance. The dawn of the Firestones is upon us. Your destiny has been written in the stars, and now it’s time to answer to your calling.” “Misty,” I rasp. “Misty, who is that? Who’s speaking?” Misty groans, coughing and wheezing. “I can’t–I can’t breathe–my ribs–”

Something was coming. And it wasn’t friendly. The ground split beneath Sasha’s feet, sending her sprawling to her knees. A rush of heat erupted from the fissure, and a dark, oily mist poured out, curling around her like it was alive. The Heart of Eldara pulsed violently in her hand, the light it emitted flickering as if it were struggling to stay lit against the encroaching darkness.

A whisper that came from everywhere and nowhere all at once. The Moon Goddess. "The Mistborn has awakened," the voice said.