Witches Of Dathomir Riding Rancor Novels & Stories

Gwendolyn shrugged and said, “If Evelyn had prepared you, no mentoring would be needed.” They got to the final group and Genevieve said, “This group is different in the sense that they combine two energies together. One helps to balance the other.” The group was putting on black on black but a white symbol of a huge cross was etched in the chest of their clothes. “What energies?” Clara asked. “These are the siphoners and the darklings. The siphoners siphons magic, venom and the likes while the darklings use dark arts. However, the siphoners are there to make sure the dark arts are not corrupting the souls of the darklings. Your mentors will be Ethan Vanderbilt and Layla Hendrix.” Clara nodde

He tried to pull her pants down but another female voice interrupted their passionate moment, " VOLDAMIRE!!!" It was a slow, seductive voice that came from his back. Turning his head behind, they both saw a female figure standing nearby. The young lady, Danika gasped in shock and fear. Without thinking about anything, she pushed her clothes up and ran to the outside, leaving Voldamire all alone. The lady in front of him was barely recognizable. She was wearing a black gown. Even the shade of her skin was dark and tanned. Her long black nails and black eyes defined her identity well. Voldamire understood that she was a witch, the eternal enemy of their race.

"How's my sister?" "Sound asleep," Vador replied. "Something is wrong," Aleister said entering the room "Someone is coming," his eyes were now shades of grey "Avan,Emma,go,take Avan with you. Go to Alizon" "The dark witches are back," Vador said his eyes changing color." "That's right," someone replied across the room with her back turned. Immediately Vador was tied to a metal chair and so was Aleister. "How's the dark lord?" She asked turning to face them.

The alpha was in her bed and arms after all, it was going to be a long night for her. * * * “Can't believe he overpowered us again!” Callan growled at the top of his voice. “There's something about him, Callan, his eyes changed to pure black before it changed back to amber, it was scary. I wish you would have came with us—” “Dammit Dakar! I sent you along with twenty of our best wolves to take Daminor down! What happened?” “He was furious, Callan and his beta was also with him, we tried to fight them but we couldn't do it,” Dakar explained, ducking his head in shame.

Yet when the auctioneer thought about who could be under the mask and hopped into death in ease, his face was drained from all blood, looking horrifyingly pale. This strong magical power, and the signature red eyes. Even though there are a few mythical beings who had the same colored eyes, this was the Runalia, the land that forbids mythical beings from entering. Meaning there was only one person who could have this blood-like eyes. No matter how much stupid person could be dumb, there wasn't anyone who could not know this very powerful person. He was the Lord of Warine Land, Mike White. However, no matter how frightened he was to the looming man, he was an important buyer who had bid four t

I had no answer to give. Behind them, warriors dragged limp bodies into lines so the dead could be counted. Dalton was being lifted by two wolves, unconscious, clothes soaked in blood. His chest still rose and fell. That was enough. The witches who had defected from Mara’s coven knelt beside the wounded, chanting low healing incantations. Some of them were so exhausted they could barely keep their palms steady. They did not care. They whispered as if the earth itself might fall apart if they stopped. I tried to stand. Silas stopped me with both arms.

The other witches exchanged worried glances, their unease palpable. “Is this normal?” I asked, my voice raised above the growing crescendo of wind and whispered incantations. Sariah's eyes widened, genuine worry etching lines on her face. “No, it’s not,” she said, glancing at the leader, who seemed to struggle with the spell’s growing intensity. The chanting witch’s voice changed, deepening into something dark and foreboding. Her eyes turned black, void of warmth, as she fixed me with a terrifying gaze. “I found you, little wolf,” she crooned, her voice resonating with malicious mirth.

The closer we got to the jagged, snow-capped peaks, the more the world seemed to turn against us. Clarence's reach was longer than I had anticipated. On the first night, we were ambushed by a pack of feral rogues whose eyes glowed with an unnatural, sickly purple light...a clear sign of the witch's corruption. They didn't fight like wolves; they fought like mindless puppets, throwing themselves onto my claws without a second thought for their own lives.

Aurora jerked around. The silver moon shone from above, illuminating the scattered pillars and fragments of the palace, creating an otherworldly battlefield. In the middle of this battlefield stood two giant wolves. One wolf had silky black fur like the color of the night sky; the other wolf was smaller, looking rather sickly and bony. It was Damien and Silas! Aurora rounded her eyes in shock. Damien said that he was going to meet with Silas about the ritual. Looked like things fell apart and they started fighting. The fight got so intense that it destroyed the entire palace!

Warning: Some graphic scenes Calantha was relentless, as she bared her fangs at the rogue wolves, managing to intimidate a lot of them. She jumped down from the elevated area, causing the rogues on the ground to make way. The other four of her brethren also jumped down, snarling viciously at the rogues, but most especially the rogue witches who'd just lost two sisters.