The Wizard Of The Kremlin Novels & Stories

But instead of old stories from my grandmother’s life, the pages were scrawled with strange symbols and sketches—shorthand in her handwriting explaining the purpose of different runes and sigils. Flipping through the pages, there were sketches of wolves, and the last page that she’d written in had a detailed rendition of a nightmarish wolf-beast that made my blood run cold at the sight of it, it’s eyes smudged over with charcoal in the shape of a protective rune. My heart raced when I realized what I was holding. This was no ordinary journal, it was a spell book.

“The three black werewolves, it was a message.” Aria frowned, not understanding. “The time of the terrorists. The three black werewolves. The king and his two eldest sons. One of them is a prisoner now.” The Terrorizers. The ones her father wanted to stop. They were three black werewolfs, always three with one flying at the front and one on each behind him. They were known to cause terror and therefore got the name. Alone, they took many lives and burned villages down to the ground.

The moment Hylda came into the picture and put Sadie to death the tradition had died with her. The witch's quarters looked old and worn down from years of neglect. Sadie was long gone by the time she had even been permitted to enter the pack house but she'd heard from the older generations what it used to be like. The walls apparently had a glow to them from the amount of magick in the room. There was rumored to be a large crystal sat in a well, center of the room where the users would replenish themselves. Foliage decorated the room making it look like a green house with work stations set up. Large wooden work tables covered in rare ingredients and spells books from past generations lay on

Stella’s POV We run towards the edge of town towards the fire. I see my rune symbols and stop. I know they were unable to get past them. Then I see them. Four witches and a Warlock walk towards us. One of the witches says a spell to extinguish the fire. The smoke starts to disappear into the air.

Before Andreza can finish her sentence, Maya interrupts her with an enigmatic smile: “Prata.” A grimace of irritation crosses Andreza's face, but she decides not to dwell on it: “Come on, Maya. Everyone in the supernatural world has heard the story of the fallen wizard.” Maya lets out an initial, almost dismissive laugh. The legend of the fallen wizard and the wolf Prata had always been told as a dark fairy tale, passed down from generation to generation among supernatural beings. However, upon noticing the seriousness in Andreza's eyes, she controls herself, her expression becoming more attentive.

Katie Clyde gazed in awe at the stunning light on the horizon, but her amazement was cut short when Pascal blocked her view. Suddenly, a frosty voice pierced through the air, making her heart leap. It belonged to the Wizard of Owls. "Pascal, I warned you, remember? That the day would come when you would beg for your life at my feet. That day has come, and I will not only kill you but also use your second chance mate as my prostitute." He cackled wickedly.

I spread my arm and controlled a sword in the air, I threw it at him but it became a snake before it could even hit him, and then the snake just fucking crawled away so fast. My brows crossed. "You're— you're a monster!" "Well," he smirked playfully. "You can say that." He chuckled. "I'm a powerful wizard, so maybe, it's fine if they refer to me as their greatest monster." "You're crazy!" "We all are." He shrugged. "In our own little ways, we all are a little crazy somehow." "What do you want from me?!" The side of his lips rose. "You, simply you, Kira Goldberg."

They really did it this time, it was a happy occasion for all of them, but what made him the happiest was seeing this beautiful woman by his side every day, having people envious of what they had for each other. He didn't even notice when his father finished taking the oath; all he heard was people clapping and realized it was over. His father was Dixing's official president. They stood up and began clapping as others celebrated. Leah entered his arms, and he hugged her tightly, gently drew his wife to him, and kissed her again, his beautiful wife, woman, and, above all, his white witch. He grew to love, respect, and understand a white witch. He looked at her again and kissed her passionatel

“Good job princess.” I looked around seeing others walking into the woods. One man, a tall slim man dressed all in a black robe was burning something in the fire. The smell seemed to be white. I don’t know why white was the word that first came to me, maybe pure. I looked up at Nikko, “Is he a witch?” Nikko looked down at me, “a warlock maybe. I don’t think he would take kindly to you calling him a witch.” He arched his brow, “why Samantha are you a witch?”

The authorities were baffled, struggling to contain the sudden surge of violent incidents. Amidst the chaos, a figure emerged from the shadows, watching with dark satisfaction. His name was Viktor Kessler, a disgraced scientist with a vendetta against the werewolf packs that had exiled him years ago. Armed with his twisted creations, he intended to unleash chaos upon those who had shunned his brilliance.