Wake Of Vultures Book Novels & Stories

"I didn't come here to talk about my soul, Elsie. I came to protect what belongs to me." "Nothing 'belongs' to you, son," Elsie said gently, though her words had the weight of a gavel. "We are all just stewards of what God lends us. You’ve brought a storm to this house. Look behind you." The Arrival of the Vultures Down the narrow gravel road that led to the town, three black SUVs with reinforced plating and darkened windows were approaching with terrifying speed. They didn't have headlights; they used infrared sensors that cast a faint, ghostly violet glow on the snow.

“This is your last warning to speak –“ Britney and I , watch in absolute horror as a small wave of some sort emits from her hands which begins to float towards us. Andrew is the first to come into contact with it , and this making him fall to the fall with a heavy thud. I rise from my bed , watching as Britney also fall unconscious by it’s touch – my sudden movement earns me a growl from the wolf. I start backing away , trying my hardest to not end up like either of the unconscious people around me. My back hits against the cave wall , I am trapped. The wave reaches me , immediately I am engulfed in the most peaceful and warmest feeling ever – like cuddling up with your parents on a cold nig

Foxgloves blooming near the roots slowly inclined toward the hidden passage, as though acknowledging an unseen guest. Then the pulse spread farther. Across the sleeping capital. Beyond the city walls. Into the forests of Stormfang. ///// Several miles away, an old grey wolf lifted his head. For nearly twelve years, he had known only instinct. Hunger. Cold. The urge to roam. Names no longer meant anything. Faces blurred together. His own den had become unfamiliar. Tonight… Something changed. The pulse reached him like the warmth of spring after endless winter. His clouded eyes blinked. A single memory surfaced. A pair of tiny hands wrapping around his neck. A child's laughter.

Vlad said, his voice raw and full of profound solemnity, reaching into the inner pocket of his dark suit jacket. His slow, deliberate movements added to the intense suspense. He produced a tiny, finely carved wooden bird. Not the stylized owl or the bird from "La Paloma," but a third, even more unusual carving: a falcon with folded wings, keen eyes, and a posture of silent watchfulness. With his dark eyes full of an unadulterated, unspoken emotion, he held it out to Violet while keeping his eyes on hers.

As he finished talking, he was immediately surrounded by the vultures. Each of the vultures was rabid. They didn't run away even when Carl's moves were vicious and injured them. Instead, they pounced on him again and again until they were severely injured and could no longer fly. The vultures were strong. Even Carl, who was known for being powerful and fierce, had a tough time battling 50 of them. He managed to keep half of the vultures away but was wounded on his face and body. The worst was the three wounds on his back, which were two feet long. Crimson blood flowed out from his back and dropped on the chains.

Skin the color of water left too long in a bowl: thin, gray, stretched - Eyes black from lid to lid, glossy and hungry. Three more unpeeled themselves from the shadows behind it: one climbing down a trunk like a spider; one stepping backward out of a tree as if the bark were a curtain; one crouched low, fingers dug into the soil. “Stay,” she whispered to Umbra. He answered with a growl so low it felt like it rattled her ribs. The foremost creature tilted its head. “You called,” it said. “I didn’t,” she said. “Yessss…” another answered from her left, voice wet and amused. “Glasss and blood and windowssss… crying. You ssssang. We heard.”

With a jerk of my consciousness, Teacher Kira and I could see ourselves inside the Book Collection Vault. Due to the fact that the Beast Hall was void of people, Kira's spirit was at a low advantage, making it easier for the Steel-winged Vulture to chase after her. The spirit was frustrated, looking for somewhere that could conceal its presence. As it flew towards the heavy shelves, its eyes suddenly lit up, before sending a final look at the Steel-winged Vulture's spirit which was presently making for a book roll in hope of catching a glimpse of the former's spirit.

An oppressive air hung over the forest as the eyes of the Nobles identified the many corpses and broken weapons that covered the ground. As far as their eyes could see, there were the bodies of the deceased. Humans and members of other races had been laid to rest in the Promised Land, never to see the light of the sun again. Even worse was that these precious bodies were being fed on by mere winged scavengers. An intruder angrily picked up a stone and flung it at a vulture. Before the creature was aware of what was happening there was a hole in its head. It fell down dead without even knowing that it had died!

Drifts of black sand whirls into the air, sailing past skulls and torn skeletons peeking out of the black earth. Emptiness surrounds me, the vast area stretching on infinitely. The skies are dark and the furious wingbeat of vultures is all that fills the chilling silence. Where the f*ck are we!? Just then I hear a noise. My claws snap out on instinct, hot steam snaking out of my nostrils just as a savage snarl peels my lips back. But I stop short when I see him... The Traveller.

The Vultures were already warming up, circling the ice like sharks. Milo took a deep breath and stepped onto the ice. Game on.