Seraphim Fanart Novels & Stories

But the creatures were faster than the elixir-enhanced enforcers could track. “Something’s wrong with them!” Dorian shouted, slicing through a lunging beast. “They’re not shifting properly!” Seraphine dodged a leaping hybrid and drove her blade into its eye. It shrieked, spasmed, and exploded in a cloud of black smoke. She staggered back. Her chest burned. Then she saw it, a sigil branded into its throat. Ancient. Arcane. Not Pack-born. Alchemy-born. “Guild blood?” she muttered. “These things were made…”

A cruel, dangerous smile spread across her face. "How about we play a little game, Arielle." ***** Moments later, Seraphina stood before her mirror. Her maid Hannah gasped softly. “My lady… you look stunning.” Seraphina was dressed in a stunning, ancient gown of deep blue and silver, embroidered with symbols of old Stormclaw blessings. The design shimmered like moonlight making her look every inch a queen. “Tonight,” she murmured, adjusting the fabric, “history remembers who stands beside the Alpha.”

Korven’s jaw locked. Seraphine smiled, small and lonely. “Ah,” she breathed. “Thread.” Seraphine’s gaze lingered on the painting as though following some invisible thread only she could see. The image depicts a pale woman lying on a cracked stone surface, surrounded by scattered rocks. She has long, silvery-white hair that fans out around her head, catching the dim, cold light. Her eyes are closed, her expression serene yet lifeless, as if in deep sleep or death. She wears a delicate, off-shoulder white gown with intricate lace embroidery along the bodice and hips. The dress is slightly torn at the slit, hinting at wear or struggle, and its folds spill naturally over the uneven ground.

He continued to lick me as I tried to ride it out. He came up, claiming my lips, allowing me to taste my own juices. "I love you, Maria." I layed my head against his chest, running my fingers across his tattoo as he rubbed his fingers across mine. " I'm an Archangel.. Wife of the Reaper...I'll fight beside you...you don't have to do this alone." He nodded and kissed my forehead, wrapping a piece of my hair around his finger. I fell asleep, in his arms.

A black silhouette that stood in stark contrast to the six white wings enveloping her body. The Goddess of Death—Seraphim. “You were supposed to come see me,” she continued.

"You love me. You’ve always loved me. We’ve been through so much together. I’m the one who’s been by your side. I’ve fought for you, and I’ll keep fighting, but I need to be with you. I need to live with you. You promised me..." Seraphina, sensing his hesitation, leaned in closer, her lips grazing his ear as she whispered, "Don’t let her take you away from me. Don’t let anyone come between us. I’ll do anything, Armin. Just tell me what you need... what you want... I’ll give it to you." Her voice was a mix of pleading and seduction, her fingers tracing slow circles on his chest, her body warm and soft against his.

They reached the central atrium—and the sphere chamber, identical to the one beneath the rebel base. Only this one had been corrupted. Twisted red veins webbed across it, and suspended within was the child… eyes glowing, locked in some sort of energy cocoon. Ivy stepped forward, hand outstretched. “Mommy,” the girl whispered. The power surge knocked them all backward. Seraphina emerged from the shadows, draped in obsidian armor lined with glowing runes. Power radiated from her in waves. “I told you she’s mine,” she said. Ivy stood, blood at the corner of her mouth. “She’s not a weapon.”

Damien plugged the drive into his holopad and frowned. “Siberia,” he muttered. “Of course.” Ava narrowed her eyes. “This place Project Nephilim it’s not a lab. It’s a womb.” Seraphina was no longer just a prototype. Her pod had drained. She now stood upright, dressed in a thin, silver gown that shimmered like liquid mercury. Her hair fell in wet curls past her shoulders, and her eyes unnaturally large and silver-flecked glowed faintly even in the dark.

I summoned it from the central field: a pillar of pure Moonbane light, arcing skyward like a goddess's spear. It pierced the clouds, visible for miles, a challenge and a lure. The enemy faltered, chants hitching. And there she was, Seraphine, emerging from the rear lines on a steed of writhing shadows, her black robes billowing like wings, eyes blood-moon red. At last, her mind-voice purred, laced with triumph. The Tear senses its true mistress. She raised a hand, and the horde parted, shamans amplifying her call.

The souls of these people are pure, and their auras sparkle with silver. Most bearers of Selene's gift live in their mountaintop cities. This is possible thanks to their unique Power - when a seraphim is faced with a life-threatening situation, its energy can take on a physical form in the form of wings. Unlike our Power, which cannot be seen and is impermanent, the Seraphim's Power takes on a physical form and remains so forever. At the same time, their magical abilities decrease, so many seraphim own weapons, compensating for what they have lost.