Runa Mga Nobela at Kwento

And the color of my skin never hides when I blush so it's always hard. "What's your name?" Now he stood right beside me leaning on the basin and looking down at me. Okay, how the hell was he this tall? I looked like a minor in front of him. This was so unfair. And not to forget his deep baritone voice. It was so smooth just like butter. Ew Arabella really? "Arabella" I replied. He hummed before folding his hands and damn I almost swooned. I accidentally glanced at the tattoo on the back of his left shoulder. It had wings and it between were two initials.

She muttered, excusing herself into the bath chambers. ***************** The cool evening breeze brushed across her face, as she listened to Khol'an tell her everything about rune crafting, while she pushed his wheelchair from behind. "So, basically, it's more like a magic command carved into something?" Rebekah asked. “Yes.” Khol’an said gently. “A rune is like giving power a job to do. You carve what you want it to be, and once it’s awakened by the moon or blood, it sticks to that task. It can guard a place, hold something in, or keep danger away. That’s why runes are safer than most magic spells. They don’t act on emotion or anger. They only do what they were made to do, and nothing more.

She spoke in riddles and ancient tongues, revealing fragments of a forgotten history. The Seer revealed that the runes were not just markings but a map, a pathway to a forgotten realm, a dimension where ancient beings slumbered. These beings, she warned, were neither good nor evil, but beings of immense power, capable of reshaping the world. The stones were not merely a gateway but a key, capable of unlocking immense power, either for creation or destruction. The choice, she said, rested with them. The runes weren’t inherently malevolent; they were tools, powerful tools that could be used for good or ill, depending on the intentions of those who wielded them.

The Helm of Awe covered my left shoulder and on my right was Valknut. Yggdrasil was in the middle and flowing from the roots of the tree was a wolf head. On either side of the wolf was a Jericho 9mm, Kiran’s personal touch to my Zeta mark. From the bottom of the roots, down my spine, was a ghost rune designed by Malachi with my name Jericho adorning the top of Yggdrasil. An hour and a half later Marcus was finished and I put my shirt back on. Tonight I would have to undress with every member of the pack present and shift for the first time in my life.

Aiden looked at me with absolute attention. “Say what you want to say, Elara,” Aiden said before kissing me on the forehead. “The rune I traced in the mountains, the Rune of Maximum Containment... The Council was right. It's a little-known rune, actually a forbidden rune, and I didn't learn it by reading ancient scrolls in the library. I learned it through my training,” I said and paused for a long moment. “I'm not an ordinary orphan.” “We know that,” Jayden said calmly. “It's only natural that—”

I felt a presence, ancient heat, emanating from the burning flesh, as if it were alive with some inner power. Shit just kept getting weirder by the day. A break would be fucking nice, Universe! “What is it?” I asked. “A rune,” Amaris said grimly. “Neither good nor bad, inherently. But this one….” The healer knelt closer, easing Steph’s hand from mine, and I only let it happen because it was her, the healer I trusted. “But this is not an ordinary rune.” “The hell is a rune?” I demanded again. “Is it permanent? What does it mean? Amaris—”

I read it quickly. Dear Dean, I'm sorry to write you this letter. My pack isn't safe anymore. The news about who I am is out and I will be hunted to the ends of the earth. I can't put you or anyone else at risk so I'm running. No pack would be strong or safe enough. I would die if I caused you or your pack harm. I wish things were different but this is my reality and I must make the right choice. Please find someone else that will make you happy that will be a good Luna for your pack. Please let me go.

“You remember I was telling you about that old entrance to the tunnels?” “This is it?” said Jim. Father Powers nodded. “This is it. Now stay close, it’s dark down here and we’ve only the one torch.” The steps were narrow and worn to smooth, polished depressions in the middle. The temperature dropped and became almost freezing as they descended. Jim’s arms came up in goose bumps. “Do you . . . do you know what those things are?” said Jim. “They’re Byrgen,” Father Powers told him. “Or Byrgen-Beorden, to give them their full title. It’s from the Anglo Saxon, roughly translated it means ‘grave-child’ or ‘born-of-the-grave.’”

This made me scared. "Please, who are you?" I asked in the most polite way possible. I did not want to annoy the woman; she was unbalanced. "Ah, finally asking me the right question." She said, smiling. She cleared her throat, I knew it was all an act, but nonetheless, it made me more attentive. "I am Ruhun Daji, and my name is Kurwa, the spirit of nature, good fortune, bliss and wellness."

Running as if it was nothing, every leaf I stepped into flied creating a small artificial fall. The moon was hiding behind thick clouds as stars are nowhere to be seen. Why am I even running? That is also a thing I am not sure of. A runaway bride or Luna is something I am more familiar with. That thing happened countless of times already. In my tribe, some even says it as joke. A thrill of chasing to make every mate’s bond stronger. How funny, this may be the first ever occurrence of an Alpha, running away in his own wedding.