The Wraith Cast Novels & Stories

The coven mother interjected again, almost acting as a defensive momma bear. “How can an angel trick a coven of witches and warlocks? How is that possible?” I asked them all in a loud growl showing them I am growing quite impatient with this explanation. “He lied to us! The spell we cast opened up the warp! More and more vampires and demons are leaking through the crack we made in it every day.” Aurora cried regretfully into her hands. “And, consequently, our magic is broken. We cannot cast powerful spells at the moment, so casting your locator spell will be difficult at best.” The coven mother explained.

I nodded, I always wondered what those large serpent-like nightmare origins that sometimes pop out of the miasma, it seems that that nightmare origin was from the deep abyss and was trying its luck to hunt down a fresh stranded. "What about those stranded that they are discarding?" "Those are husks. They are what remains on a stranded with all its being, its existence, devoured by a nightmare origin. After arriving on the abyss floor, most of them would disintegrate, while a few would be imbued by the corrupting miasma, like an artifact that was given a soul resulting in a naturally occurring nightmare origin. They are the most troublesome to encounter in the abyss since they are near indest

she whispers, her form crumbling, her starlight fading, her body ash. The wraith’s final claw slashes Renn, his relics shattering, his scar bleeding shadow, his body still, his hymn gone. Cassia’s cry pierces the air, her fire flaring, her blade striking the wraith’s remnants, her eyes glistening. Kalia’s orb pulses, its light flooding the altar, sealing the rift, the Veil’s hymn surging, its threads weaving anew. The wraith shatters, its essence dissolving, the abyss stilling, the Veil’s starlight faint but enduring.

So this was his true ability… to conjure up darkness. They were silent, and shrouded in a midnight mist, their eyes glowed blue with the same terrifying light as Dante’s. Dante rose slowly to his feet, with the full force of his presence crashing into them like a tidal wave... Ancient... Elemental... Wrathful... “Scatter,” he said with a low an spine chilling voice, echoing and not entirely human. “Scatter the lore. Find her.” The wraiths obeyed, vanishing like smoke on the wind, fanning out into the forest in every direction.

Moreover, they held similar stoic looks. “It clearly seems, they don’t want you anymore, your out of their life now, you got to move on without them. This house, is what it is..” “What do you mean?” “We were all cast out, by family, by friends, by Love ones. And here we’re. We grow stronger. And deal with everyone who dealt with us. Revenge it is for us.” Elina looked at him, with the tears streaming down her face, she didn’t bother, wiping them off. But just let it flow.

Then, she sighed, a long, drawn-out breath that seemed to carry all the weight of the knowledge she was about to share. “A wraith is the result of a death left unfinished, unresolved,” Alice began, her voice soft but tinged with something dark. “It’s a spirit, yes, but not the kind you might think. It’s not a simple ghost. A wraith is born from agony—pure, uncontrollable anger and resentment. When someone dies in such a way, with so much hatred and pain in their heart, they don’t just fade away. They linger. They transform into something... else.”

Twelve monoliths arched upward like the ribs of a dead god, each etched with sigils that burned white-hot as Astra’s blood soaked into the grooves. She did not cry out. She had learned long ago that pain fed the wrong things. Behind her, the wind howled—no, screamed—as something massive strained against chains of light at the edge of the circle. The Winter Wraith. It was not a wolf. Not anymore. Once, perhaps. Long before corruption twisted it into something that wore shadow like flesh. Now it was hunger given shape, a vast silhouette of ice and night, eyes like dying stars, breath that froze the air into shards.

Icardi exhaled , "I have a large number of witches, we have formed our own flock and the wizarding kingdom has threatened to kill us, so we want to be here, under your protection." werewolves with witches Zayn continued his silence, thinking carefully, "Forever?" Icardi Haza nodded his head "forever". “What do you think?” Stephen said fanatically, but Zayn ignored him. “But before that we must sign several conditions..if one of your wizards breaks them, you will be expelled immediately.” "I agree," Icardi smiled with apparent happiness. Zayn looked at his brother, ignoring Stephen's looks, "Get me the protocol, set the conditions I will send them to you."

She wasn't just a woman anymore; she was a flaw in our world. "The Key has arrived," her voice boomed, vibrating in our very marrow. "And she brings a graveyard with her." With a flick of her wrist, the ground erupted. Thousands of shadow-wraiths—the spirits of every Atoner ever sacrificed—rose from the earth. They weren't the "Hollowed" we had saved; these were twisted by centuries of hate. The battle was a slaughter. Silas and the Winter-Fang were being swallowed by the tide of shadows. Ronan fought like a god possessed, but for every wraith he cut down, three more rose.

I didn't want to spook Mateo and Suzanne, and since they couldn't see them, they would only think I was going mad. "We are the wraiths, the spirits of the dead whose lives were cut short. We bear a deep grudge and seek vengeance," the wraiths answered. "Vengeance against who?" I demanded. "Against those who took our lives unjustly, making us live as wraiths and harbor hate." "Why come to me then?" I inquired. "Because you have the power we need to unleash destruction on our enemies and their descendants. You will give us the vengeance we seek," they said firmly.