Novel & Cerita The Mortal Fates Book 3

"Now, that's not in our deal. But, yeah, he killed them. And yeah, Ziven mentioned that." "How many?" "End of discussion, Angel. My price." "That's the last question, please?" "Three. They were three." His words tightened something deep inside me. It should've made me afraid of who they really were, of who Zarek really was. Instead it made my body react in a way I couldn't control. Returning my gaze to Zane, I decided to push him. "I'm still mad at you, Zane. I can't kiss you. You played me."

I trudged back to my room, my feet heavy with the weight of Lord Mortis's revelations. The dimly lit hallway seemed to close in around me, the flickering torches casting eerie shadows on the walls. My mind reeled with the words that had come out of Lord Mortis's mouth, yet I knew he wasn't lying. The signs were there, hidden in plain sight. The Lycan king was cursed, unable to form a mate bond, and if he continued down his destructive path, he would succumb to a fate worse than death: going feral.

Strike Tristan The crack of Lefu’s gunshot rang through the stairwell like a thunderclap, sharp and merciless. Draven Holt staggered once, his eyes wide and wild, before the fire left them. He slumped to the stone, blood pooling beneath him, dark and final. For a moment, everything stilled. Only the drip of his blood, only the faint pulse of the cursed chamber above us. I straightened, wiped my blade on his cloak, my jaw tight. My chest heaved, but my eyes stayed clear. “It’s done.”

“I don’t think it will work if she doesn’t want to be found…” “Savannah, she is dying… Skylar is dying… Please…” “Okay, I ring you back.” I hang up the phone, look over at Griffin and say, “I need a scrying crystal and a map of the area, please.” Griffin nods his head and leaves the room. I sit up a little more in the bed, take a deep breath and whisper, “My Bloodline's Book of Power, My bloodline's book of spells. I call you to me.”

Her hands were slick, her arms barely responding, her body getting weaker, heavier, and slower. Blood filled her mouth. Metallic. Warm. She coughed, crimson staining the sand beneath her lips. ‘ I’m… going to die.’ The thought drifted through her mind, quiet and heavy. Above, the crowd chanted. “FIONA! FIONA! FIONA!” Fiona stood back for a moment, lifting her sword slightly in acknowledgment, soaking in the praise like sunlight. Just then, something inside Zaria… snapped. [ Theodore’s smile and sentence. Maribel's evil grin. Caleb's false accusations. The betrayal. The king's knife at her throat.]

The night grows deeper and the only sounds in the room continues to be their contineous moans and groans together with their heavy breaths. At this moment, the only thought running through Zarie's mind is that everything is in the right order for her and nothing can take it from her. Not even death or any other mortal. Hmmm... But no one can dictate what the future holds because the puzzle of fate is surely complicated, more twisted than we can ever imagine. Author’s note; Thank you for reading, stay safe.

Onward to Rallegrad and the Lycan king. Book 3 coming soon!

Reading passages, finding nothing useful. Then Gray pulled out an old leather-bound book from the back of the highest shelf. "This one looks ancient," he said. The cover was cracked. The pages were yellowed and fragile. The text was written in an old script that was hard to read. But there. On page seventy-three. A chapter titled "The Resurrection of the Fallen." My hands shook as I read. "What does it say?" Gray asked. I read aloud. "To resurrect one who has fallen to mortal wounds but whose essence remains, three offerings must be made. The Mighty Alpha Soul. The Maiden Soul. And the Ancient Wolf Soul."

I hiss. Apparently, you can't trust the word of someone you met in an underground werewolf bar. The entrance to Dyad Marketplace should be here, right past the— Something glimmers in the bricks on the other side of the fountain. Something bright and shiny. Striding across the courtyard, I approach the bit of metal stuck in the wall. A grin breaks across my face. "Perfect." Placing my fingers on the thin strip of metal—something that would appear completely innocuous and meaningless to any basic person walking by—I speak the incantation. "Aperta obidier."

They wouldn't be gone long. Eirlys stopped in front of him, her posture composed. “I'm ready.” she said. Ryker only nodded, turning around and leading the way toward the waiting cart. The journey was quiet. Eirlys stood beside him on a separate cart, her hands folded in front her, her gaze fixed on the passing scenery. The tension between them wasn't hostile, but it was thick, charged with unspoken words neither of them dared to voice. After what felt like an eternity, they arrived at the burial grounds. It was a secluded place, nestled at the edge of the pack's territory, surrounded by towering trees that whispered in the wind. The grave stood alone, marked by a stone carved with the name M