Rivendell Novels & Stories

Bo tells him, before glancing at Gray. “No, of course not,” Gray says with a sigh. “There was nothing you could have done to prevent this from happening.” “I have caught wind of a rumor,” Alazaer says slowly, cautiously. “Supposedly there is still some wolfsbane out East.” “Where?” Bo asks. Alazaer drops his gaze down to the ground. “Alazaer,” Gray says. “Where?” “Maine,” Alazaer answers reluctantly. Gray barks out laughing.

We are here to keep you and your friends safe. Who are you? Chloe couldn’t help herself from asking. What are you? We will explain all in due time but right now, consider us your allies and loyal guardians. The voice replied cryptically. Chloe wanted to push for more answers but before she could say anything, the shadows melted away along with the trees. Ahead of the group, the land rolled down into a valley, stretching as far as the eye could see. There was nothing but snow covered prairies and the endless night sky scattered with stars like diamonds on velvet. It was all just land and sky...

The bell above the door of Nocturnal Blooms chimed, a soft, silver sound that was always followed by her scent. Valtor looked up from the stark black petals of a Mourning Glory, his undead heart giving a single, hard thump in his chest. Rivenna.

“I’m done being in the dark.” Aiden stood slowly, crossing to the far wall. He pulled down an old map—torn at the edges, covered in strange marks. “This town,” he said, pointing to a crooked black symbol near the center, “Ravenwood—it was built on the bones of something ancient. A rift between worlds. A place where the wild things crawl through if the veil thins too much.” Evelynn stared at him. “You mean like… the fire? The monsters?” He nodded. “It doesn’t happen often. Maybe once every hundred years. But when it does, something or someone gets chosen. Marked.”

Rowan asked. Harkan looked toward the West—past the mountains, past the ruins of the Council’s old empire, toward the **Great Dead Zone**. "There is a place where the threads never reached. A place so broken and barren that even the Aethel-Group didn't want to buy it. We call it the **Dust-Well**." "It's a death sentence," Rowan said. "It's a chance to be invisible," I said, looking at the silver scars on my arms. "And right now, being invisible is the only way we stay alive."

Like a piece of him had been carved out cleanly. He opened his eyes. The witch was holding something invisible, her hands cupped like she carried water. She breathed on it, and it dissolved. “Done,” she said. “Now I tell you what I know.” Kaden stood. Alina was watching him with concern. He tried to remember what he’d given up, but the memory was gone. Just a blank space where something important used to be. “The bone crown is held by someone called the Revenant,” the witch said. “They’re camped in the old Ruins. Three days north. They have maybe fifty followers. All devoted. All willing to die for them.”

The air over the Shadow Vale was thick with ash and despair. A gray pall clung to the jagged peaks, and the ground itself seemed to shudder under the weight of countless undead souls. Selene stood on the precipice of the valley’s entrance, her silver eyes reflecting the devastation below. Before her lay the amassed legions of the Revenant—fallen warriors, corrupted beasts, and spectral phantoms—stretching as far as the eye could see.

*Raya's Kingdom*.... Riven’s sanctum is a fortress of half-decay and flickering torchlight. Ancient stone walls are draped in red runic tapestries, cobwebbed corners holding dust and memories. A large oak table dominates the room, littered with rolled scrolls stained brown, vials of thick red blood, green powders, bone fragments, and crystal shards. The air smells of burnt lavender and old parchment. At a central altar, a brass bowl holds dark liquid,the poisoned essence spilling into the realm. It hums faintly, as though alive. Beyond it, a thick velvet curtain separates Riven’s domain from the chambers beyond, where Elira and Kollen stand in dim half-light.

The great hall of Ravencrest was alive with the low hum of conversation, the clink of goblets, and the rich scent of roasted meats, spiced wine, and burning pine logs in the massive hearths. Lanterns hung from black iron chains, casting warm golden light across the long tables draped in dark banners embroidered with the Ravencrest sigil. A wolf howling at a blood-red moon. Liera stood near her mother’s side, her posture straight and regal as befitted the daughter of Asheville’s Luna, but her mind was elsewhere.

Demi said. "That's it." Nora pushed the door open. "Come in." Inside. The restricted section was smaller than the main Vault. The light was low, amber, the kind designed for documents rather than people. Demi moved to the nearest shelf and looked at the spines with no titles, only dates in a notation system that used vampire calendar conventions rather than Gregorian ones. "How do you find anything here?" "Same way I find anything." Nora moved to the third row, second shelf. The dark leather volume was exactly where it had been. She lifted it carefully. The way you handled things that were old enough to make your hands feel young by comparison