Novelas y relatos de Villainous Threads

If he had infected the weave, he was everywhere. She stood up, her heart racing. She walked to the wall of the vault, where the silver threads connected to the Ridge’s central grid, and she began to inspect the connections. She saw it then—a faint, almost imperceptible discoloration in the silver thread. A jagged, dark thread woven into the heart of the grid. He hadn't been defeated in Varkas. He had been transported. He was using the Ridge’s own infrastructure to spread himself across the North. Every time they helped a pack, every time they sent a cloak, they were helping him reach further, deeper, into the fabric of the world.

Her eyes are full of stars in a way that is not metaphorical — there are actual stars in them, pinpricks of cold light that have no business being inside the eyes of a creature that lives at the bottom of an ocean trench. Black veins climb her throat to her jaw. The veins are mine, in nine years, if I am not careful. "My name is Morrigwen, host. I was the first. The Salt Throne was mine. I burned it down. I burned my own children. The pearl made me hungry and I ate everyone I had ever loved and then I ate the kingdom and then I ate the continent and then there was nothing left but the trench it sent me back to. I have been here for eighteen thousand years. I have been waiting to tell someone

No, absolutely not. The threads shifted subtly, testing vector points in the clearing. Several reached toward the fallen soldiers. They recoiled incompatible. They reached toward Vale. He staggered backward like struck. Rejected, then they brushed Lena. Her markless skin flared gold instantly, power answering without hesitation. The threads did not recoil, they resonated. My pulse spiked. No, the sky deepened in tone. Alignment viable and I forced control through the connection. Not her. The threads tightened painfully in response.

Some became silent, their eyes going blank as they saw things only they could see. When Vaughn attempted to draw one of them back, the wolf's body stiffened. Silver light crawled across his skin, then exploded like broken glass. "Return!" I gave a shout. Grabbing Vaughn, Rowan pulled him away. The ground exploded as soon as their boots passed the inner line. Blue, not red, flames surged upward in a spiral. Beside me, Silas emerged with a steady, low voice. "The Thread is bleeding." “So stop it!” His expression was impenetrable as he gazed at me. "I have no right to quit. She alone has that right."

I snarled, my voice shaking with a mixture of terror and fury. ​The whisper changed. The warmth evaporated, replaced by a cold, metallic rasp that made the hair on my arms stand up. The shadow beneath the iron plate pulsed, an oily black light seeping through the runes. It did not speak again, but the vibration it sent through the ground was a direct threat. It was the Shadow Thread Winnie had sensed, and it was using my own grief as a skeleton key.

*"The Crown is not for mortal hands." Kelly stepped forward, Nyxara's shadows curling at her fingertips. "We're not here to steal. We're here to *bargain*." --- **RHYDIAN'S POV** The fen was a battlefield of teeth and treachery. Selene's wolves clashed with Rhydian, their eyes hollowed by the Threader's influence. Eden grappled with the seed, his veins alight as he fought to contain its pull. The Threader itself wove through the chaos, needle-fingers stitching the air into portals, its kin spilling forth.

Charlie stood nearby, his eyes red as if he had just cried. "I was just messing with you. Why did you actually drink it? Maddie, since when did you become so weak?" he asked. The original Maddison was not fragile at all. After all, she was the villainous side character whose job was to frame the female lead before meeting her destined death. The female lead was Cynthia. Just a while back, the original Maddison had tried to stop her from taking the SATs by slipping laxatives into Cynthia's food. However, halfway through, the original Maddison got scared and switched the drugged meal with a normal one.

The omegas flickered like candles, small but persistent. And then there were the bonds. Threads of energy connecting people who cared about each other. He saw friendship bonds, thin silver threads linking students who sat together at lunch. He saw family bonds, thicker, golden threads connecting siblings and cousins. He saw rivalry bonds too, by dark red threads between people who competed or hated each other. As he was weaving through the students, marveling in the sheer beauty of the threads, he suddenly froze. He saw one bond that made his stomach twist. A possessive, sickly green thread that was so bright it overshadowed all the other threads in the room. But that wasn't what made it all

“You are so mean. You left without a trace and came back without a word.” Duh. I was the malicious villainess. The title said it all. “Willow.” “What?” I blurted. He leaned in, his dark eyes sparking with amusement. “Give me a kiss, and I’ll keep my mouth shut in front of your folks.” It did not make sense at all. I was shocked, to say the least. Even an honest guy like Maddox was pulling a Damian. I asked in confusion, “Maddox, are you secretly a masochist? Don’t tell me you developed a bond with me, your abuser?”

“We were cut exactly from her essence. It’s wolves like you that corrupt the bloodline. You are all a washed-down version.” “She made us too.” I retorted in visible frustration. We sounded like two kids arguing about who mommy loved more. She scoffed. “A mistake that we will rectify.” Her garnet eyes panned the thread. “Treasure my gift.” Then they returned to me with a frigid and fierce lock and her lips twitched. “This will let you know that you are nothing to me.” Slowly, her hand moved towards my chest. “This thread of chaos will live in your heart until Valen kills you.”