Romans & histoires The Wraith Cast

"Yes. Yes I very much do expect you to sleep on the floor." If the ball was in her court, Niva would've vehemently refused. But he was the one with the knowledge she needed. "Fine, take the bed, I don't care. Just tell me more about what this thing is and how we can stop it." "Not what. Who?." Her lip parted slightly and he furthered in explanation. "Wraiths are paranormal entities, but before the time of transition into death they were living people. Fueled by nothing but vengeance." He smacked his lips amusingly.

Everything I had tried to bury, everything the Rift had sensed and stored over the centuries, coalescing into one dark, watchful pulse. A sudden shift in the shadows drew my eyes. The Wraiths appeared, not in swarms this time but individually, tall and thin with translucent bodies that bent the light of the silver veins into fractured specters. Their eyes glowed faintly, observing, judging, waiting. “Do not falter,” Cael whispered. “They feel fear. They feed on hesitation.” I took a step forward, feeling Auren’s hand on my lower back, steadying, urging. Cael’s gaze bore into mine, molten silver, burning away the remnants of doubt. Together, we approached the pedestal.

Sashi said while continuing from writing. "Wraith? Ah, you called me once like that before. What is that anyway?" Clark ask while giving all of his attention to Sashi. "A wraith, an evil ghost. Those who died with wrong doings in life. Like that." Sashi explained. "Ahhh." They stayed like that for a while because Sashi need to finish taking some notes. Clark just observing her the whole time. "Stop staring, I can't concentrate here." Sashi said without looking at Clark.

He took a step forward— And the ground beneath them trembled. A deafening howl split the air, primal and enraged. Shadows shifted in the ruins below, moving unnaturally fast. Then, from the darkness, they emerged. Wraiths. Not quite werewolf, not quite human—twisted beings caught between forms, their bodies flickering as if reality struggled to contain them. Their eyes burned with unnatural fire, and their snarls carried the weight of the damned. Bram drew his blade. “I hate this place.” Freya’s daggers gleamed as she fell into a ready stance. “We hold our ground.”

Meanwhile, the real illegitimate daughter hid in the shadows while I had to carry her crime and identity. I immediately opened the door and saw Danny waiting outside. The faces behind him were painfully familiar. In my last life, he had brought the victims' families to confront me, pretending he wanted me to apologize. When I refused, he twisted everything, claiming I had ignored Ruby's warning to chase a big scoop. He agitated them until one of them threw a bottle of sulfuric acid at me. The people in front of me were from the same group. Back then, I thought they were all grieving relatives. After I regressed and went over it again, I realized some of them were actors Danny had hired to st

I nodded stiffly, still buzzing from the feeling of his lips on my skin and wanting more. He sent a cheeky smirk my way before grabbing my hand in his and pulling me in the direction of his territory. We held hands as we walked back to his territory through unclaimed land, where rogues were free to roam. Rogues are wolves that have either left their pack or been kicked out. They were ruthless, soulless werewolves who don't care about rules or authority. When we finally made it to Dark Apollo's territory, Bryan's Beta Andrew met us by the border. He welcomed me back, before telling Bryan about something to do with the pack business.

" The Elder of the pack, Dylan Admiral, was patiently trying to dissuade me. After all, he watched me grow up. I was still young, and my life was just about to start. I nodded determinedly and smiled. "My dear Elder, I'm ready. The werewolves need to be guarded. I will continue my mother's legacy and protect the entire pack." Dylan sighed at my determination. He accepted the application form that I filled up and said to me gently, "You can leave next week. Don't you have two brothers that love you very much? The next time you'll be able to see them is in twenty years, or even never again. You should say your proper goodbyes."

“I didn’t know until now. The wards are reacting to his presence.” Before they could press further, a low growl rumbled through the trees. Aria’s blood turned to ice as shapes emerged from the mist—three massive wolves, their eyes glowing with an unnatural light, their fur matted and dark. But these were no ordinary beasts; their forms flickered, as if woven from shadow and smoke. “Wraiths,” Elara breathed. “Guardians of the catacombs.” Caden drew his sword, his stance protective. “Can we fight them?”

Moonroot burned in Mira’s hand, but even its light was dulled here. Then the shadows came. They rose from the earth—not solid, not smoke. Wraiths in fractured armor. Faces blurred by memory. Eyes like coals in snow. “We died for nothing,” they whispered. “Forgotten.” Aria stepped forward. “You were not forgotten. You were only… buried.” The lead spirit, a towering wolf-warrior, surged toward her. Visions flooded her mind—betrayal, shattered truces, a Luna slain by her blood. “We are the war that never ended,” the wraith said, voice a dirge. “We are the wounds you never healed.”

“They’re not ghost stories. They’re warnings.” Grammy gave a single, firm nod. “Shadowcraft is older than the packs, older than even the vampires’ first kings. It’s a magic designed to unmake bonds, to unravel the tether between flesh and spirit. Whoever is using it isn’t just stealing your mates. They’re cutting them loose from you—like pulling threads from a weave.” A ripple of fear moved through the group. Even the hardened ones flinched. “And you’re saying,” Thorne rumbled, “that we’re fighting an enemy we can’t see?”