Saeran Mystic Messenger Novels & Stories

“N-No Sir, I thought I-“ “Shut up. next time you do that, your head will be delivered to your family on a silver platter.” I threatened him with a cold voice. “I’m sorry Beta Lucien.” I could see his hands trembling and that made a shiver run down my spine. I love seeing people at my mercy. “B-Beta, I come bearing news” he stuttered. “What is it?” “Your father, the Alpha, has passed away.” The messenger said with his head bowed. A small smirk formed on my lips, now that was the news I’d been waiting for.

Alpha Riley There’s something in it for me dwelling on each person’s lives and scooping around knowing that there are mysterious truths behind what their lips limits to tell the world. Lies. Werewolves are predators in their own kind, not because we are capable but only because this is our nature. Our nature is to be the beast of the world. And it's my nature to know everything in this world because I am the Emissary of the Tri-Alpha pack. An emissary who digs every ground to know the information that is needed for the transaction.

It was now my turn to smirk. He lifted up his hand and his smile was replaced with a frown. "What the hell!" He exclaimed. "The ring..." "It's gone, I know." I cut him off. "And it's right here with me." Steve came into the picture with the ring. I teleported over to his side. "Great wait, dear." I smiled. "How..." Sage was about to say something but got interrupted. "It's a recall spell if you don't know." I heard Morgana's voice.

“We face it together.” The figure steps closer, its voice low and creepy, a woman’s. “Jerry,” it says, “Morgana’s waiting. Bring the shard, or your mom dies.” My claws pop out, my eyes blazing. “You’re not her,” I say, my voice shaking. “Who are you?” The figure laughs, soft and scary, and the air feels strange, like a storm’s coming. “Her messenger,” she says. “The ritual ground’s calling. Come, or your pack’s gone.”

That's how you get Sky Mystic, which is sort of okay… Though I'm sure anyone who gets repeated prefixes like Sky Sky or Earth Earth would have something to say. Frank smiled in wry amusement, as he did not expect someone as smart as Sally to have her eccentricities. That was when Sky Mystic Two drew a dagger from her hip. "Someone claimed that they could heal me recently, but they failed, though I honestly can't be sure if they're regretting their arrogance in hell right now."

His eyes fluttered open, unfocused at first, then sharpened as he saw them. “You’re alive,” Seraphina said quietly. “That’s more mercy than your masters would have given us.” The courier’s throat worked as he swallowed. “You’ll kill me anyway.” “If I meant to, I would have left you on the road.” His gaze darted between them, lingering on her silver mark. “You’re her,” he whispered. “The heretic.” Seraphina tilted her head. “And you are a messenger of Light. Perhaps we’re both named by others.”

Aurelian slowly pushed himself off the couch and rose to his full height. “I did what I had to do,” he growled. “No,” the messenger snapped, stepping closer. “You broke the sacred law. Every wolf must be bound. That is the rule.” Aurelian’s eyes snapped to him. “Then is your wolf bound?” The messenger’s lips curled into a sneer. “I am a messenger of The Lycan High Sanctum and of The Lycan Eternal Court,” he declared. “Why should my wolf be bound?” Aurelian took one step forward.

Mystic squeezed Aaron’s hand. Her voice threaded into his mind: Let me. He inclined his head. She stepped forward, spine straight, chin lifted. “My name is Mystic Hayes — daughter of Helen and Dawson Hayes. I have not walked these lands since I was a child, but they are still my heritage.” She turned her forearm outward. A glowing tattoo shimmered beneath her skin — intricate, ancient, unmistakable. “I bring this mark as proof.” The head warrior slowly descended from his position and approached her, his boots echoing on stone. Aaron shifted instinctively — ready to move — but Mystic remained still.

"Oh yes, I forgot. You're a seer." "I'm not a...oh well...never mind..." Cassandra tried not to roll her eyes. She had had enough of this world and was desperate to find somewhere familiar even if it was a place where she had to put up with her seed-eating aunt and uncle. A long walk later, the sorceress stopped them. "Wait," she said and turned to the wall where two large marble statues stood about ten feet tall. They were of a bird with the head and torso of a maiden called the Sirins. Cassandra knew them from her literature class in Eastern Slavic folklore.

"I won't let them harm us." Aunt Cleo's voice sliced through the air like a warning bell, her words laced with urgency and gravity. "Aqua, you need to grasp the true threat of the coven. They're not just ordinary casters. Each possesses unique abilities, ranging from unnaturally swift regeneration and inhuman strength to the sinister power to manipulate creatures and even people, turning them into spies. Some even boast of an unnerving form of immortality, extending their lives far beyond the natural order. And worst of all, they have the terrifying capability to absorb the powers of other casters."