The Lorien Legacies Novels & Stories

Andriel and Taylor, holding hands, watched their sleeping son until, gradually, exhaustion overtook them, and they too drifted off, lulled by the peaceful surroundings. They both knew this calm was temporary. The rebels remained undefeated, and new challenges would surely arise. But until the next step was taken, they allowed themselves to cherish these precious family moments. Malcom symbolized the continuation of a legacy, as did the children the other couples awaited. This new cycle would bring hope and strengthen the fight for the peace both Lycans and werewolves longed for. United, side by side, as one pack, they would fight not just for survival but for the future they were building to

“A cousin to Kael. He believes the throne was stolen from him.” Kael’s expression darkened. “I should’ve killed him when I had the chance.” “He has shadow wolves now,” Liora added. “Beasts twisted by blood magic. He’s not just claiming territory. He’s building a new kind of pack. One that obeys no laws. One that will never stop.” Aria stepped forward. “What do you know about me? About the Moonborn legacy?” Liora hesitated. “Only that it ends in blood. Every prophecy about you… ends in fire.”

“Who?” “We—we’re uncertain at this moment,” the warrior stuttered. “But the magic feels ancient. And tainted.” Liora froze in place. Tainted magic could only signify one thing. The Forsaken. Aric advanced, his power surging so intensely that several young guards staggered backward. “Secure the perimeter. No one enters the hall. Liora remains inside with the elders.” “No,” Liora immediately countered, stepping closer. “I will accompany you.” Aric turned to her, his expression filled with pain. “Liora, you just experienced a memory that wasn’t even yours. You’re still trembling—you require time to recuperate.”

Her hazel eyes had glistened, her voice cracking on the word mate—that beautiful, unspoken vow to Kai flickering like a candle in gale winds. ​I would listen, my Gran's sight humming softly in my veins. A gift from the old oracles of the mist-veiled clans, diluted through generations but as true as yarrow's bite. ​Visions came to me in glimpses over those mugs of cocoa. Silver bonds weaving tightly around a silver-streaked auburn wolf. A crescent rune pulsing like a second heart. Liora—no, Leila transforming—rising from amnesiac ash to finally claim her throne.

“I thought those were just nightmares.” “They were your memories that were suppressed due to the trauma,” Victor corrected gently. Silence stretched between them. For the first time ever, his past was starting to make sense. It was not just a blank slate. But….. “Why now? I have spent years being unaware of my identity. Why are you telling me this now?” “Because the enemies responsible for the tragedy of the Cross estate have resurfaced.” Victor said gravely. “The Cross elders recently tracked movements of the organization responsible for the attack on Cross estate.”

“But from what I can tell… about a week and few days.” Lucien went still. “And it’s almost two weeks since Liora left…” he muttered, his fingers brushing his jaw as realization settled in. He nodded slowly. “It’s her.” “I think it’s just a coincidence,” Anderson argued. “The timing might just overlap.” He leaned forward slightly. “Think about it, Lucien. Liora came to you, begging for help after her father’s company collapsed.” His gaze hardened. “This woman? She owns the kind of power people beg her for and would never beg you. Her mother owns one of the most powerful empires in the world.”

When I turn eighteen and leave the orphanage, I can give them all to him at once. I hide the notebook in a crack between the cabinets and use a plastic ruler to retrieve it. I just got it out, but before I can hide it, Leya comes into the room. She's a normal girl and her butt isn't fat anymore; she's lost weight since we were ten. Leya doesn't know about the diary though, so I shove it under the mattress by the headboard and cover it with a pillow. Lucky, my talisman, sits next to my pillow. I know I can trust him.

“I’ve felt her — not with eyes, but with sense. Something stirs in Valenfort that even Lucien’s blood cannot command.” She opened a small box on the table — inside, a drop of blood crystallized in silver. “This is Evelyn Cross’s final legacy,” Liora said. “If we find where she’s reborn, this drop will awaken her soul.” “But you’d face the Blood King?” someone asked. Liora’s lips curled. “If necessary, I’ll end his bloodline.” --- That night, Lucien stood alone in Crimson Spire’s great hall. Each footstep echoed on blood-dark stone, heartbeat syncing with the distant pulse of the city.

"He's already started merging the realms, Carlos." Mariana's heart raced. "What do you mean, merging the realms?" Álvaro took a big breath. "Carlos has been working with the old relic for years. It wasn't just about power; it was about crossing the lines between worlds. The rift is what lets you open a door between this world and a long-lost realm where the strongest werewolves have been stuck for hundreds of years. Diego's jaw tightened. "Carlos plans to let loose a whole army of them."

It was like he lived inside my veins, his claim branded into my soul. I hated it. I craved it. And I couldn’t let it destroy me. The stone arch loomed ahead at last, half buried in moss and vines, a relic of some older time when witches and wolves had fought side by side. Liora was waiting, her dark curls tumbling over her shoulders, her amber eyes glowing faintly with otherworldly fire. You’re late, she said, though her tone carried no surprise. And you’ve been followed. My blood ran cold. What?