Wanderer X Sethos Novels & Stories

Lunar runes pulsed along the plaster seams—old magic synced to our wolves, gifted by Valoria after the Accord to keep our temper from knocking down the structural integrity. Serena swept past us in a silk robe that was definitely worn for maximum “oops, did this slip?” effect. Jax’s lip curled. “Guess Cal’s still breaking hearts,” I said. “If I had a dollar for every she-wolf he’s rejected,” Seth muttered, stealing another grape— “We’d own another island,” I finished. “Think bigger,” Seth said. “Human double-decker plane. Snacks at 30,000 feet.” I snorted. “Alpha dominance served with pretzels. Hot.”

Their faces were fixed in leering sneers, twisted into expressions no living being could replicate. My blood turned to ice. “They are Vel’sothars. Ancient beings who are the collectors of wandering souls. They bring them past the threshold between the freshly dead and the endless. Like bouncers at a club, it's hard to get past them,” Hera explained with eyes fixed on them. “How nice of Luna Sianna to omit this tiny little detail,” I grumbled, watching them. They settled down a pod between them, and the bond within me moiled. My eyes fastened on nothing but that pod, drawing me in like a beacon.

Elphame allowed a brief chuckle to rise out of her throat, “Agreed.” “How am I supposed to bond with the Eidolon, if I treat it like a tool? As far as I’ve seen it has complex thoughts and figured out a way for us to communicate. It may be a part of me, but it’s also a person unto itself if that makes any sense,” Warren finished talking. “I owe you an apology. Naming your intangible friend sounds like a great idea.” She stepped toward Warren and closed the gap by half. “Theria Sundew, engineer and mechanic of the Scald Crow. Are you joining the crew?”

Monsters shaped from nightmares, creatures from the forge—Nyx Wraiths slithering in the dark, Hellhounds howling through scorched wind, Revenants dragging rusted swords, and towering beasts I didn’t yet have a name for. And among them— Zerathos. Cloaked in smoke and tendrils of pure shadow, he stepped forward like a king returning to his throne. My stomach twisted. The bond between us—this unwanted, lingering tether—buzzed faintly. My light pulsed in rejection, Aria hissing in warning. “He’s calling to me,” I whispered. Xander’s hand gripped mine, firm. “Then don’t answer.” I steadied myself, placing my other hand on his chest. “We end this. Today.”

The voice came again, but this time it matched the movement of its mouth. “You heard the call.” Aria’s fingers twitched at her sides. “Who are you?” The spirit tilted its head. Its voice was deep, but there was a rasp in it, like it had spoken through centuries of dust. “I am Thalos. Last of the wanderers. Wolf without a den, spirit without a grave.” Her chest tightened. “You’re… dead?” A flicker of a smile, or maybe it was just the way the light shifted on his face.

“Oh, hi, Xander,” I said, holding Seth’s hand a bit tighter. “Fancy seeing you here.” “That hand.” Xander ignored my greeting as he gestured to my hand in Seth’s. “That hand…” “What hand?” I pretended to be oblivious. “Anyway, Seth, do you remember Xander?” I turned to look up at Seth. He was a very bad actor, staring at me with a blank expression. “He’s the next Alpha of Silver Moon. Xander, this is my boyfriend, Seth.”

So he did, clutching her to him as she crested, letting the noise of their joined selves thrum out into the empty night—daring the grid, the city, the hundred enemies left, to come and find them. Afterwards, he stroked her temple and watched the steam rise from her like the haze over summer fields. There had never been a time in Xander’s life where silence felt anything but dangerous; now, with her chest pressed to his, it was the first and only language that mattered. In the spring, when the tunnels dried and the water tower buzzed with bees, the kids demanded a proper home. Matty built bunk beds out of the windmill’s old scaffolding. The twins painted a mural in scavenged pigment, bright l

I drive my transport unit straight back to Nighthowl Systems. Thalia Runehart looks way stronger today, though her throat still sounds like sand scraping a stone. The second her eyes catch my vest, she pulls her brows together and barks, "My boots just left the main healer's lodge. I stayed under the needles all night. I even saw Draven Calder sprint through the doors last night—turns out Vesper Vale was burning with a sudden sickness. Draven is acting like a perfect, loyal son-in-law to that family, isn't he?"

In the Grand Nexus, new pilgrims arrived daily drawn by the radiant call of unashamed desire. Vespera Voss Kane had fully embraced her role as Keeper of the Flame. Her emerald constellations now swirled and shifted across her skin like living auroras, reacting to every surge of lust around her. She stood naked in the heart of the meadow, silver hair whipping in the warm wind, surrounded by her three mates and dozens of new seekers who had come to learn. Tonight, the lesson was unity through surrender.