Read Lord Of The Mysteries นิยาย & เรื่องราว

replied Dolos. "He looks like Loki's character in the Thor movie," said Claire. "Indeed. Loki is the god of lies and deceit in Norse mythology, Dolos is the Greek version," replied Leon. “If that's the case, my guess is he'll give you some kind of hallucination. Be careful Leon," said Claire. "What are you afraid of, Perseus? I think I can see it," said Dolos again with a sly smile.

And Beatrice fell down back on the floor, the sword falling alongside her to have the Lord wrap his arm around her. "What happened here?" He asked, his expression darkening as he turned to they other three women. "She's... Beatrice is a sorcerer?" Melinda asked, with her eyes wide open as she blinked waiting for answers from the Lord. "This should be a secret. I would like for everyone to leave." The Lord said, his brows knitted to a frown. He grabbed the sword that had fell down and hissed as it burnt his hand and he let it go quickly. She had almost waken the sword and damn! He wasn't even around.

I licked my lips and slipped my hand to my left jacket pocket, causing the statue guy to go rigid. I turned to face him, lifting a brow when I pulled my Cuban cigar. I hated this shit, but I wanted to get pissed and fill my blood with rage before I faced him. Then he marched in. The one and only Francois Xavier. Or should I say, Oliver Huxley? An eerie feeling surrounded us. My world spun, then everything blurred around us. My heartbeat went unsteady. I could feel the sweat beaded on my forehead as I stood there like I was slowly turning into a stone.

Luke was jolted out from his thoughts and he turned around to see Razor standing by the door. "How did it go?" Luke enquired. "It was a success." Razor replied proudly. " The werewolves are dead." "Are you sure?" Luke gave him a questioning gaze. "Yes, My lord. I can bet my life on it." A triumphant smile appeared on Luke's face as he clasped his hands together. "Excellent!!" He said " We are one step nearer to my ascension to godhood. Appetizers have been attended to.And now..." Luke faced the window overlooking the town. A dark smile crossed his face. "....The main course. "

𝙇𝙪𝙘𝙞𝙖 Silence It is deafening. It cannot be a bloody coincidence that I happen to choose a card and every picture drawn on the card is a symbol of the secrets I am keeping from people. Lake Wolves Isn't the whole point of tarot cards? To tell about your future or dark past. The terror of what I have just picked in my hands and the possibility of it being a sign of danger is creeping its way inside my soul.

"You think I'll be able to get anything related to the mystery lady?" "It's a hunch. So you go there under cover and find out anything you can." He took in a deep breath and said. " Yes boss." he stood up and left the office. "Smart Lorenzo. Sending him off to work so soon." "He needs the distraction Gio, if not he'd just stay in a position drinking and feeling sorry for himself." "Okay I see what you're talking about. So what am I going to do. We have no form of clues to catch this motherfucker."

The smell of magnolias from most of them mingled with the scent of the centuries-old secrets. Later that day, His Lord went Into his room, whilst his warriors were at work cause he told them not to come back until they found her. While in his room, he took a look at the evidence that his messenger had brought. His messenger can also be a sly fox, of coins they would not even know how he got in there in the first place to get all these, and as long as no issue arose it was fine. His Lord found journals in the bag that his messenger kept them in and he was wondering how they could be used for evidence still he started reading through the journals.

The word burned in his mind like a brand. He stalked past the familiar sections—Werewolf Histories, Lunar Cycles, Pack Law—until he reached the dimly lit alcove marked "Supernatural Relations." His claws pricked his palms as he yanked out the first relevant tome: The Bewitched & The Beastly: Supernatural Attractions. The wooden chair protested as he threw himself into it, the lamplight casting jagged shadows across the pages. Dust motes swirled around him as he flipped to the chapter on witches.

However, I know who did it, and I’ll never tell. Now, I’m sitting in a musty library in a large, gorgeous, Victorian style building listening to one of the most gorgeous men I have ever seen. He seems to be around 6’6” tall, has dark hair that is styled to perfection, olive skin and dark brown eyes. His name is headmaster Draven Douglas, and he smells like wood moss and amber. I have hung on every single word he has said, and when he asked if there were any questions, I was the only one who raised my hand. I didn’t even know what I would ask when I did it.

"Who are you?" The foreman beside her stammered. "What are you?" A voice from the crowd shouted, "A god! He's a god among men!" I shook my head. "No," I said quietly. "I'm no god. I'm a man, like you all." They stared, waiting for an introduction. "My name is Ala—" I stopped. No. Not Alaric Thorn. That name belonged to a ghost buried four hundred years ago. "…Alen," I finished softly.