Witches Of Dathomir Riding Rancor Novels & Stories

She rejoiced that the collar was gone from her neck but now only fear could be seen in her small face. "A sorcerer" She murmured as she took a step back in a startle. Her last wish was to be taken in by a sorcerer, but her misfortune struck a jackpot and served her with the last boss who probably would want to use her as a sacrifice! She knew she had very bad luck and often met misfortune but today, this misfortune was a thousand, no a million folds worse than ever!

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.

She really wanted to come but I told her to stay home to rest up for the fight. The wolves that have stayed behind are all warriors. It is time to amp up security and training. I walk towards the training field and see about one hundred fifty wolves. “Thank you for all being here. We will be under attack in a few days. I have brought some witches here for you to practice against.” I say waving my hand over to Stella’s family. “Okay let us get started. Everyone line up!” I yell. Spell’s start flying and wolves start shifting. This is very hard, but necessary. By the end of the day the wolves and the witches are battered and bruised but alive. I look around and I am really proud of my men.

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!

The palace grounds turned into a battlefield of fangs, claws, and raw energy. I caught sight of Damion on a balcony. His eyes were wide with shock before he disappeared inside. Chrysantha’s dark magic lashed out from somewhere above, her shadows whipping at our flanks, then one of our wolves screamed as it hit him.

Strong. Discipline radiated from them. Damian's pack was a gang of thugs compared to this. This was an army. A man in the center of the yard looked up. He had red hair and a scar across his nose. He saw her. He nudged the woman next to him. She looked up too. Then another. Soon, twenty wolves were staring at the balcony. Hostile stares. Predatory. "Jump!" one of them shouted. "Let's see if witches can fly!"

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."

"They said it like it was some sort of cleansing ritual, but it was worse. But I'm not shut to fixing her up. The witches are disgusting." "What the actual fuck?" Zack repeated. "Listen, Zack," I growled. "There's a lot we don't know, there's a lot you don't know, but just pretend like you didn't hear that." Orion looked at Zack, and then at me, his eyes narrowing. He could see for certain they weren't werewolves, but he kept quiet. How Zack reacted to the word witches was proof that they had no idea about werewolves. "Ravenna is going to return at any minute now. The guide would not let me join them. Said only the afflicted could move forward.".