Shadowhunter Magnus Novels & Stories

The night was warm but her skin was hot and bothered as she reminded about the imprint that had happened unexpectedly between her and Zack. “Hey, Sam! I haven’t seen you around a lot. Are you still working in town, masquerading yourself as human?” asked a warrior named Hunter Wolcott. He was the younger brother of the Sigma of Shadow Pack—a vagabond who excluded himself from the pack to serve in the army, Kane Wolcott.

“I’m just glad we haven’t been giving the new ones any wolfsbane. Who knows? Maybe they’ll learn to control it on their own.” Gray nods and offers Bo a wide grin. “Maybe. They’ll be a hell of a lot better than us if they do.” We all know the truth though. Lycanthropy is a curse. There is no way to control it. Not on the full moon. “Come,” Bo says, knocking me out of the dooming thought of our near future. He puts a hand on my back, lightly guiding me to start walking. “Alazaer is down by twin hills, waiting for the others to come back,” he tells us.

His eyes were an amazing shade of gold, and just now they sparkled with the dark promise of death. Almost too fast to follow his movements, the dark-haired man crossed the room with its crumbling plaster walls and stood behind the wolf with two curved, ornate hand sickles already in his hands. The soft ringing of metal resounded as he swung with expert precision, not even brushing her hair with his blades while he decapitated her tormenter. The head that had just been level with hers went one direction, while the hands gripping her arms fell away and the body toppled to the floor on her other side. Her mouth fell open in stunned horror, then clamped firmly shut again as she was sprayed with

"Magnus." The name hung between us like poison. Magnus had been a dark wolf, a practitioner of blood magic who had tried to overthrow the old pack orders years ago. He had been killed, his cult scattered, his followers hunted down and dealt with. But cults had a way of surviving, of hiding in shadows until they felt safe enough to emerge. "Magnus is dead," Damon said firmly. "I saw his body myself." "But his followers aren't," I said. "What if some of them survived? What if they've been waiting, gathering strength, and now with Hope's power manifesting, they see an opportunity?"

No one will come back here. Arnold and I were waiting in the hall of the Council meeting building. This is the birthplace of shadow hunters, the place where it all began. It all started when the angel Gabriel came down from heaven and fed his blood to Nathaniel who was a brave warrior man. He became the first shadow hunter to fight evil and protect humanity. In this building was where the first shadow hunters gathered and began to create the law, and now I was summoned her to be judged. “Magnus Jordan, calm down. I haven't seen you scared since I met you, and now I can hear your heart beating a million miles per second."

he spoke with assurance. He was not done talking when Magnus charged at him again this time attacking him on the chest but Hunter twisted his hand and smashed his bones. "What the fuck?!" Magnus yelled in pain as I watched his hands twist. "If you touch me, I repeat your leader will die!" I snarled. The babies who were sleeping soundly started to cry. "What do you want from me?" Magnus finally surrendered. "My woman. I've been searching for her for a whole year and after so much research I was told she was brought here. Where the hell is she?" his voice changing and his eyes glistening red.

“Hiding in the shadows, divided and weak. Maybe it’s time for some new blood in charge.” The tension in the room crackled like electricity, and Magnus could smell the acrid scent of fear beneath the Lunarri’s anger. His wolf howled with satisfaction—urging him to press his advantage. Magnus’s eyes locked onto Hel—sensing his movement before he saw it. Pride kept him rooted to the spot, refusing to show weakness in front of these would-be rulers. In a blur of motion almost too fast to track, Hel’s arm shot out. The wolfsbane stake materialized in his hand—its tip pressing against Magnus’s chest directly over his heart.

My father had watched me walk away, watched me take on the weight of the whole pack, and he had never said a word about the price tag he’d put on my head. "I have to move," I said, trying to stand up. My legs felt like they were made of water. Suddenly, a low, sharp whistle sliced through the air outside. Three short notes, then a long one. Magnus’s whole body changed. He grabbed a heavy wooden staff from the corner. His eyes turned a sickly, pale yellow. "They're here," he whispered. "The Council?" I asked, my hand going to the small knife I had tucked into my boot. "No," Magnus said, a grim look on his face. "These are trackers. Bounty hunters. Someone has leaked the truth, and now everyon

She clamped down harder and harder, a primal, bone-crushing bite that went past muscle, past tendon, past everything, until the final, decisive snap came. Magnus collapsed, his massive body lying still on the ground. Lifeless. The crimson glow in his eyes extinguished, replaced by a dull, lifeless gray. Nyx staggered back, her chest heaving and fur matted with sweat and blood. Around me, the pack regrouped, panting, eyes sharp, bloodied but alive. All of Ironclaw's wolves were killed, and so was Magnus. My gaze locked on his corpse. The monster was gone. The man who had stolen my family, my voice, and my childhood was nothing but a broken carcass at my feet.

Hunters. “Shadowthorn sends a message!” one roared. “The Alpha wants his heirs!” Aria shoved the twins behind her, blades already drawn. “Over my dead body.” Luka’s shadows flared. Lila growled, tiny body vibrating with power. The lead hunter lunged. Aria met him mid air, driving both blades into his chest. Hot blood sprayed across her face. She twisted, using his momentum to slam him into the second attacker. Luka’s shadows wrapped the third wolf’s legs, yanking him down. Lila pounced, ripping out his throat with a snarl that was far too mature for her age.