Witches Of Dathomir Riding Rancor Novels & Stories

Something was happening. Kendrick shot out of his chair and shifted midway to his massive silver wolf, landing on his powerful paws. The door blew off its hinges as the wolf slammed into it with a loud roar. He growled threateningly at the sight he saw. Thousands of black witches. Flying like bats all over the sky on their brooms. Their evil cackling could be heard as they swooped down and flew back up with birdlike cries. While from beneath the ground, giant ugly trolls crawled out. Their bodies were covered with earth and grime, their yellow eyes bulging out of the sockets. They held giant clubs and roared at the wolves.

“The bond fracturing. Twisting. Rotting.” “Shut up.” He twists my arm just enough to make pain blade down my spine. “The witches did good work. She can’t reach you. You can’t reach her. You’re both drowning in each other, but the water’s cursed.” His words crawl under my skin like insects. I roar and break free, slamming my fist into his jaw — the impact sending vibrations up my knuckles. Duke flies back, skidding across the mud, cloak ripping, wolves scattering from the shockwave.

How was I supposed to talk to a raven and save Dominic? ************************************

The Ritual Witches staggered up their feet to see the rings that have been scattered all over the slab. They turned to the entrance door to see the Ancient Witches marching toward them in their numbers. They didn't wait as they quickly stretched their hands ready for the attack. There was a release of lightning from the scepter of the Ancient Witches toward Miranda's but they chant their spells as well that force it to change direction thereby destroying the roof. The Wolves raced out from different rooms toward the Witches who had no choice but to direct the lightning at them. . . . A Macho Wolf could be climbing up the stairs when he heard a noise below.

"Where are the other women?" Once, Damon's father had a harem of slaves and tributes filled with the finest women he could get his disgusting hands on. Those who hadn't faded over the years, hadn't escaped, or been killed by the former king, Damon had freed. Along with every other captive the wolves had held, though wolves didn't usually like to keep prisoners in the first place unless they served a purpose. "There are none. Men, women, or otherwise." He took a step closer to her, and Scar tensed but didn't move away. "You're the only one. We haven't seen a witch in a while, but here you are "

The other had conjured chains of violet fire, binding his ankles and pulling him closer to the circle. "Let go of me!" Dominic snarled, his canines elongating as he shifted halfway into his wolf form. His claws raked across the ground, managing to drag one of the witches down with him. She screamed as he bit into her shoulder, her spell faltering for a moment. But only a moment. The other witch hissed something under her breath—a binding curse—and Dominic stiffened, his body going rigid, muscles locked tight. “Dominic!” Derek’s voice cut through the chaos.

She burst into the corridor, Ragnar already there, lightning dancing across his fingers, eyes hard. “It’s starting,” he said, no fear in his voice. Outside, shadows slithered along the fences, flickering forms that should not be there. A bitter wind swept through, carrying sounds that weren’t voices, laughter that crawled across the skin. Witches. The warriors rallied, Thorne’s pack joining Ravens warriors, weapons drawn, eyes wide as they faced the dark. Kael appeared at Raven’s side, his daggers glinting, calm and ready. “They’re using fear to try and break us,” Kael murmured.

I gave him a look and he understood. Inside the cell block, the witches tensed the moment I walked in. They recognized who I was. An Alpha they shouldn’t have messed with. One of them raised a trembling hand, gathering power to cast a spell on me but before he could, I grabbed his hand and bent it till his bones came out of his wrist. His scream echoed and that was what I needed to get started. “I heard a rumor,” I said conversationally, as I walked in front of them, “that Crimson Witches fear turning into wolves more than anything. Always wondered why that is. I mean, it’s not like you can just turn into a wolf…”

And for one, terrifying moment, time seems to stand still until it stops, only to rush forward as if making up for the missing moments in a rush of movement and terror. Shards of the door fly in every direction as the space is rushed by a team of wolves and witches working in concert. At the lead is my mate, Sylvester, his fists still glowing with the same blue light as a moment before. By his side is Araminta and another elder witch I do not recognize. They immediately file in to the sides of him, their eyes bright, their bodies aglow, holding a wand-like focus aloft, as if waiting for a battle. Chancy was right about one thing–the cavalry had arrived. It just wasn’t his calvary.

The sound of chanting echoed through the mountains. At the far end of the camp, hidden beneath a dome of shimmering dark energy, Rowan stood in the center of a rune-marked circle surrounded by thirteen witches. The air crackled with raw power, the ground trembling beneath their feet as they linked hands, casting a spiraling vortex of dark flame above their heads. Rowan's long hair was unbound, flowing wildly in the wind stirred by the enchantments. Her voice rang clear over the chants, weaving ancient curses into the threads of magic.