Warhammer 40k Lamenters Book Novels & Stories

So I felt it another way—through the memory of his touch, through the imprint he’d left in my nerves. I’m here. The Ledger surged again, furious now. A new Margin assembled—not one, but three—stepping out of the white like identical errors being printed from the same file. Each one had a pulsing progress bar. Each one moved in perfect, synchronized inevitability. They didn’t come for me first. They went for Lumi. Because the Ledger knew the fastest way to stop a war was to crush the person holding the key. “LUMI!” I shouted.

Create myths. I provide truth. Exact. Detailed. Undeniable. 7:18 AM - Wolf fighter (W-22, name: Sarah Klein). Throat torn by Cormac's enforcer. Bled out in forty seconds. 7:19 AM - Vampire hunter (V-34). Staked by Valentina Corvino. Turned to ash. 7:21 AM - Dragon mercenary (D-03). Holy water attack by Tom Cracksman. Burned from inside. Died screaming.

Cold like a tomb that had been sealed for centuries. In the center, on a stone table, lay a book. It was old, leather-bound, its pages yellowed and brittle. The symbols on the cover matched the symbols on the Kingslayer, on the rings, on the dagger from the chest. They pulsed faintly, as if the book was still alive. Lysander opened it. His honey eyes scanned the pages, moving faster and faster. His face grew pale. A ritual, he said. To unmake the shadow. Not bind it. Not transfer it. Unmake it. Permanently.

He was persistent, I'll give him that much. “Rowen didn’t do anything, actually. If you must know, the amulet that The Others have been looking for did it.” I said, and I felt him tense up at the mention of The Others. “Oh, so you’re familiar with them? I figured you would be since they are Vampires and all that.” I said nonchalantly. “Dominik.” Lucian growled under his breath. “Familiar with Angels are we? Me too. In fact, spending three months inside of Pandora’s Box will do that to a person.” I purred. The look on his face was priceless, he was bewildered.

The fields were nothing but filled with the remains of the dead men who invaded the Ciphers’ defenses, some got separated from their torsos, some have lost their heads, and some were completely smashed into pieces that one could not recognize anymore. One would be left with trauma seeing this gruesome phenomenon, even I, the author of this book would want to heave. This was indeed a large bloody porridge for anthropophagi, but not for those who would want their tongues clean. Zhackary and the rest of his team spent their night to find Keisha’s body among the fields filled with corpses from tonight’s activity. The stench of death ruined their noses and it drove them sick.

And of course, endless spell books. He's even included mysteries and psychological thrillers by my favorite authors, a kind afterthought. But there’s more: living grimoires, erotica by demons that may well be written by Cenobites, and people’s wickedest sins recorded like the Screwtape Letters littering the place galore. There are the life records and deeds of every Damned in Hell, recorded in lurid detail by Penemue, the fallen angel of writing. He notices me look longingly at the books. “Shall we read?” he asks. “We can devour books on a blanket, out under the stars.”

The alpha slowly backs away from me as him and the rest of his men are now surrounded and outnumbered. The alpha and his men growl and snap teeth, waiting for us to attack. Instead of attack and killing them all, I shift back breathing heavily, covered in bloody wounds. I glare at them all for a second as they continue to growl. I look around at the dead bodies laying on the forest floor, most of them belonging to his pack. "Don't let your ego get the rest of you killed. Take your men home to their families." I say to the alpha, knowing if he fights then his men will be loyal and fight and die with their alpha.

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Our bond seared, agony flooding my chest like I had been torn open myself. “No!” I shrieked, forcing my way through. Lucian dropped to one knee, blood pouring from the wound, staining the earth. The champion raised its claw again, ready to finish him. The world narrowed. I didn’t think. I didn’t choose. I unleashed. The Harbinger fire exploded from me, gold laced with black. It roared across the field, swallowing the champion whole. Its scream was unearthly, shrill, before its body crumbled into ash. The remaining enemy wolves faltered, scattered, some burning where they stood.

His voice was low, but filled with a chilling calmness that mirrored the steel in his eyes. Cyrus’s expression darkened, and he stepped closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You think it’s just me? You’re both dead already. There’s nowhere left to run." He leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with a knowing malice. "You’ve made a fatal mistake by trusting each other. The empire doesn’t just destroy enemies, Ravenspine. It destroys loyalties."