The Web Of Wyrd Novels & Stories

Thoughts ran through her head as she listened to the loud rumbling sound the thunder made. She remembered something, something so dear to her heart, the cruel manner her parents died. She remembered it like it was yesterday. Her father was a strong werewolf, so strong that he could control people's minds just by staring at her, her mother, a witch. She was strong in her own way. A great battle broke out and their survival rested on their shoulders. The responsibility of defending their town Crimo, which was later renamed as New York, fell on them. They fought with a fierce spirit but they were overpowered.

He hit a memory. He found himself standing in a forest that no longer existed - the primeval woods of the Old World, where the first "Wyrd-Blood" was spilled. This was the Ancestral Mirage, a sophisticated psychological weapon designed by the Veil to exploit the genetic trauma of the werewolf lineage. The Symphony Conduit was using Xander’s own DNA as a map, dragging him into the dark highlights of his ancient heritage.

The cries that rattled through her marrow were not echoes of some distant vision but the physical manifestation of a world in agony. Her hand raked through her wild auburn hair, dragging snarls free with impatient force. The strands caught on a spiderweb stretched between branches, fragile as spun glass. Normally, she would have paused, admired the dew-beaded silken threads that glittered like necklaces strung for fae. But no dew clung there tonight. The web was brittle, crumbling at her touch, as though scorched by invisible flame. Mirra cursed under her breath and pulled her hand away.

We pushed the door open together. The night had turned wrong. The moon was a smear of sickly green, and the air smelled of rot and burnt iron. Dorian and Elias fought in a clearing twenty yards ahead—huge wolves, fur matted with blood, jaws clamped around a writhing mass of shadow and eyes. It had no true form: a vortex of black tendrils, each tipped with a mouth that gibbered and laughed. The curse-born wraith. Every time Dorian tore a piece off, it re-formed. Elias pinned a tendril, only for three more to lash across his flank, drawing deep gashes. The wolves were losing.

--- Two Days Later — Edge of the Wyrmwood They stood at the boundary of death. The Wyrmwood was a stretch of land where nothing natural survived. The trees were blackened husks, their bark split and oozing red sap. The soil was cracked and lifeless, humming faintly with necrotic magic. A thin fog clung to the air, thick enough to mute sound and distort light. Lucien knelt and touched the ground. “This place is wrong. We’ll have to be careful. Step wrong and the land itself can twist your mind.”

The vampiric warlords preferred to stay close to the sands of their desert domain, since they relied on its warped form to protect their bodies from the sun. “Captain, we’re about to hit dirt.” Wriixer announced, slowing the steamboat as the marsh reeds gave way to the shadow of swamp trees and the damp stench of dirt. “Weapons ready.” Likaya called, drawing her blast rod on her right as she stepped onto the small island. As expected, the damp dirt was uneasy on her boots but the Rot Spell permeated well into the air. Her arcane eye was buzzing with activity, she could see the tendrils lashing out from the soil and dancing in a hypnotic grotesque fashion as they waved into the air.

I go through the company database on the wereweb, to see who has coders and then I can go from there. The wereweb is kind of like the darkweb, you need to know how to get there, but once there it’s the same as the normal internet, just meant for the wolf/Lycan community. There's the vampweb, faeweb, superweb etc. As cool as superweb sounds it is literally just where all species can converge and interact together. The only interesting places to go there are the chats though, lots of drama, don’t need a telenovela when you have access to that site! The biggest difference is the fact that, as far as I am aware, there is very little in the way of iniquitous intentions on there.

‘By the Moon’s light and spirits of the night, Break the curse and end the werewolves plight. With a cursed beings life force I plea, Free the enslaved, let their true selves be. Unbind their chains and restore their will, Harmony with the Moon will let their spirit fill. With gratitude and reverence I cast this spell, Liberate the werewolves, release them from this hell, So mote it be.’

The Children of the Blessed were idiots; they were fools. "Other than more recruits for me, and you staying well away from the wall, we have no idea what all these attacks mean," the mercenary continued. Particularly if the High Wiz begin to show up— or, worse still, one of the High Lords. They would make the virelya appear to be canines. I examined her rough, scarred hands, which were dried out by the weather. "Have you ever encountered a different kind of Witch?" "You don't want to know, girl—not unless you want to be hurling up your breakfast," she said as her eyes closed.

Every instinct I had screamed to pull her back, to drag us all out of this realm and slam the door shut behind us. We can’t, Ace, my wolf murmured. If we leave it, it follows. The realm trembled again. Spiderweb cracks began to spread through the distance, thin and glittering. Each time one formed, a flicker of something leaked through—an army that never marched, a city that never burned, a version of Nyx dying alone on a battlefield we’d never seen. “Sybil? ” I called into the tether, feeling my words vibrate through the bond like sound through stone. “How long until this place spills over? ”