Ravenloft Novels & Stories

“WINZI, where have you been?” Ahldrin asked the newcomer. He sounded displeased. “There’s an Alundra on the loose. It needs to be captured or killed before it goes berserk,” said Winzi. “I can handle that,” Ahldrin volunteered, “Nahil, come with me.” Raven’s black wings materialized from Ahldrin’s back. It stunned Eleand. He could not even wince. Black and green light covered the two, and they vanished before his eyes.

Sighing on the nighttime sky, he eventually arrives domestic. Raven's residence is a western titled 2 memories residence, fantastically large for anyone residing alone. The residence' white partitions have become darkish and grey due to age and weather, giving it a historical appearance. Thus, it is graspable for the neighbouring youngsters to claim the region to be haunted. If this residence belonged to a person else, Raven himself could surely now no longer go to it or possibly step into the neighbourhood. but, that is anyways his very own domestic. albeit the nighttime walk wasn't peaceful, in a total case, permit ME to take a bath first.

Rendall marched until he reached his room and closed it. Since Rendall’s still taking a bath, I decided to go out and look at the lake. Every morning, fogs come out and the lake looks mysterious with the fog on top of it. Today, the sun is covered by dull clouds and it can’t seem to find a way to make the world blind by its beam. I was suddenly reminded of the day I first killed a werewolf. The atmosphere is the same and fogs are also everywhere. During that time, all I had in mind is to hunt and kill, bring fear and hear them plead. After that, a different kind of satisfaction came across me.

Raven narrowed his eyes, his gaze so cold the room seemed to drop several degrees. “Fools,” he muttered, voice heavy with restrained fury. “Even now, you can’t see the truth? Ivyshade is a pack of wolves who survived in the Deadly Forest. They’ve studied herbs and toxins to survive. They don’t use magic, and there’s no such thing as the ‘curses’ you fear. What you call darkness is merely your own ignorance in the face of the unknown.” An elder shifted, seemingly about to speak, but Raven silenced him with a raised hand.

“She’s mine. You can crawl right back into the grave you came out of, bloodsucker.” But Loki didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. Instead, he lifted his pale hand and extended it toward her. “Come with me,” he murmured. “Come home, my beloved.” “No,” I snapped, but my voice caught — because Raven… She stepped forward. One. Measured. Step. Her eyes — goddess, her eyes — they glowed crimson. “Raven?” I whispered, dread clawing up my throat. “What the hell are you doing?” “I… I don’t know,” she said, her voice echoing faintly through the link. “Something’s pulling me. I can feel him inside my head. I don’t want to… but it’s so strong…”

The air in the cavern, Conan’s hideout; was heavy with the scent of damp stone and burning torches. Raven sat at the end of the war table alone, her fingers brushing the edges of the map laid out before her. The symbols seemed to dance under the flickering light, their meanings almost close yet frustratingly difficult to grasp. Her mind replaying Conan’s annoying words: “You’d better hope you do. Because if you don’t, Raven; you’ll wish I’d abandoned you instead.”

At night, Raven stood on the balcony, looking out over the dark forest, the moon high and cold, the bond with Ragnar pulsing softly, reminding her he was alive. She let her wolf come forward, her golden eyes scanning the tree line, searching for movement, for a scent on the wind, for any sign of Ragnar or the rogues’. She found none. But she knew they were coming. On the fifth night, as Raven walked the perimeter with Luca, a cold breeze carried a scent that made her wolf stiffen. Smoke, rot and...........blood Raven lifted her head, the wind stirring her dark hair, her eyes narrowing as thunder rolled far off, a promise of the storm Ragnar was learning to control.

Blood, old and faint but there. “Stay alert,” she ordered. As they crossed the ridge, the world seemed to hold its breath. The forest below stretched wide, dark and unwelcoming. The trees here grew too close, their trunks blackened as if scorched by fire. And in the distance, like a wound in the earth, Raven’s Hollow gaped open a sprawling pit surrounded by jagged stone, pulsing faintly with a dim, silvery glow. Lyra’s pulse quickened. That light… it was the same hue that had burned from her hands the night she ended Lucian.

My hands fly to my neck as I struggle to breathe. Fuck. It was a dream. And I finally understand why Adrian Raven is strange. Why this place feels strange. Adrian Raven is a werewolf. And I’m trapped in his world. ***

My world is a mapped out labyrinth. A seemingly impossible quest to find anything in the latter. Something so simple for others, but to me an unobtainable thing. Serenity, the one thing I yearn for since I can remember. Right in the centre of all the chaos and destruction, I dare to say, was brought upon me by my beloved ones. In a world as dark and cunning as mine one would think to take the first opportunity and get away from it all. All the anger and desires burning one from the inside and starting anew.