Requiem Arrow Novels & Stories

On beat of the song, Aira, Chester, Creon and Damon started to merge their energies into each other before merging into each other’s bodies. Aira was the last to merge but she did so before turning herself and the other three into a THREE SPIKED ARROW (trident) using the Dark Arts !! The lightening arrow flew towards my outstretched palm like a north poled magnet racing towards a south poled one and, the highly energized weapon fit perfectly between my fingers. The Zorean Pack’s existence shall be wiped off in this millennium by a weapon, neither made of the living or the non living . . . .

She sagged against the board, sobbing so violently she could barely hold herself upright. The fifth struck between her knees. By then, the snow beneath her was already wet. Not with melt. With fear. Kael lowered the bow at last. Liora let out a broken gasp, thinking it was over. Then he pulled the final arrow from the quiver. This one was barbed. Her eyes fixed on it, and something in her face went blank. “Kael… no… please…” He drew the string back, slow and merciless. Then he let it fly.

I took one, my hands trembling. Since the incident, I hadn't touched a crossbow. Dimitri's words echoed: "You're traumatized." The arrows looked identical to the one that killed Layla. My heart raced. I dropped the crossbow, taking an arrow and dashing to my room. My mind reeled. Please, Goddess, let it be my imagination. Locking my door, I retrieved the arrow from the cupboard. Side by side, the arrows lay. The carvings matched. An "R" shape, symbolizing Redwood Pack.

I wished it to be all over as I had had enough of the constant threats and sprints to flee from the unbending enemy. Now I had found Bashir and I had thought it would be the beginning of our triumph but instead he came bearing more disheartening news, leaving me the more depressed and dispirited. "A moment of silence, A moment of summons," Bashir voiced, breaking through the tranquil and lonely moods instilled around us as we performed a ritual rite in honor of the fallen. "And so the echoes that carry the messages of their pains, will always be in the minds of time," I followed in recitation of 'the scars to the Prophet' by Mingo Cane as a tribute in respect for our brothers.

Shadow mocked. “The point is” Denis regained his serious demeanor “you will never run out of arrows. They are magnetized to the frequency emitted by the signal from your bow and will return from any location that is within 5 feet. Let me demonstrate” Denis took the arrows, walked over to the filing cabinet and placed it in the draw and closed it. He moved out of the way “Now press the amber button on the bow” He shouted to Shadow. Shadow pressed the button, the arrows tore through the metal filing cabinet and stuck to the bow.

“Yes, I believe that’s exactly what she did.” I pull out my phone and call my father. “I need you to ask Avery and Amir if they know anything about human sacrifices. They didn’t mention them but we’ve found human blood here in Levana’s coven.” I can hear a lot of noise in the background. “Bad time?” I ask.

The whiskey trickled out, slow and reverent. “Mimi,” I whispered. “You were everything loud and wild and true. You loved me without apology. Without holding back. You reminded me what it meant to be alive.” My voice faltered. I closed my eyes, pressing my forehead to my clasped hands. “I promise I’ll keep your fire alive.” A bow was placed in my hands—ancient, runed, heavy with meaning. A flaming arrow hovered beside it, its tip a silver-blue blaze. My fingers closed around it with practiced familiarity, but this moment felt like nothing I had trained for.

“An antidote.” “Give him the antidote if you have it,” Daemon said anxiously. “I don't have it,” the healer responded. “Then where is it?” Fea asked. She raised the arrow and slowly rotated it in her palms. “This sigil, I recognize it. When I was a child my father traded with all of the packs before they broke up. One of the men in the White Fur Pack was a craftsman. He created arrows in a unique way. He used poisons made from herbs touched by shadow that were brewed deep within the ground.” She indicated the etched mark. “This is his work. You’ll have to go there if you want to save your friend.”

“I’m ready.” With that, Ryder pressed a series of buttons on the control panel, and the heavy security doors slid open with a mechanical hiss. The room beyond was dimly lit, the shelves filled with thick binders and electronic terminals that hummed with activity. Eva stepped inside, her eyes immediately scanning the room. It wasn’t just the physical files they needed; it was the data. The heart of Project Requiem was buried in these walls—somewhere. She could feel it, just beneath the surface.

I held the bowstring, preparing my fingers to let go of the arrow as I gasp for air. Archery has been my preference. It gives me a calm mood and I often uses it to reduce my anger or grief within my chest. As I let go of the arrow, it directly darted toward the target and I sigh in relief upon witnessing how it pierced through the center. "Not bad at all," I whispered and a smirk escaped from my edges. Mayhaps I must go home and assemble myself for the night's lantern exhibition. As I have my departure, I notice a silhouette from afar. The butts aren't distant from the forest I used to stay in. Out of my interest, my feet hasten to tail the figure of a woman. I could evidently glimpse how sh