Wraith Artwork Novels & Stories

she whispers, her form crumbling, her starlight fading, her body ash. The wraith’s final claw slashes Renn, his relics shattering, his scar bleeding shadow, his body still, his hymn gone. Cassia’s cry pierces the air, her fire flaring, her blade striking the wraith’s remnants, her eyes glistening. Kalia’s orb pulses, its light flooding the altar, sealing the rift, the Veil’s hymn surging, its threads weaving anew. The wraith shatters, its essence dissolving, the abyss stilling, the Veil’s starlight faint but enduring.

He crunched down and tilted his head to a side, then pointed inside and murmured: “You draw another symbol, though. This one is known for a pup.” Oh. So the symbol is two mixed up? “The wrafter is a ghost-like creature that can only be seen by the person that controls them and only obeys her/his orders. Wrafter is rare and powerful. Frankly, I have never met one before, so I only know very little of this.” He raised his eyes to meet mine and stood up while explaining. Why would I see a symbol of it? What’s the meaning behind it? “So they are like the magical creature as vampires and werewolves?”

A chill ran through me. "Wraiths were created through forbidden Lunae rituals centuries ago. Souls fused with corrupted magic. They were destroyed long ago." The creature nodded "Excellent history lesson." My wolf growled. The Wraith's smile vanished instantly, then its gaze returned to me. "The heir belongs to us." The moment it said those words, every brother moved. Percy stepped forward. Darren moved beside him. Ken shifted slightly in front of me. the wraith smiled again. "You love her."

“The legions, the thing that bit Zeph was one of them. I called it wraith because I wanted it to sound so ugly, but someone is controlling them, and that’s what we’ve been meaning to find out.” “A wraith as in like a ghost?” “Yes,” she replied. “But it’s more than that. They are legions of demons, demonic elements, a fear-inducing evil, but they can possess bodies. My guess is they prefer werewolves because they’re fast and in wolf form, they’re stronger.” “She’s right,” Ren said. “Wolves with void eyes and dark faces.” “Wraiths are like black smoke and move in the dark. My problem is, I’m not that strong at night.”

Hello again, guys! Like I said in my author's note, this book is a prequel to Wrenched. Underneath this note, I'll attach a little synopsis to it, so we could have an idea of what the book would be about. I would appreciate your reviews and comments like you always do. Please enjoy! WRENCHED: THE OUTSET OF THE STORY. SYNOPSIS Two friends walk the spheres of life together and are bound by common interests and ambition to be successful at a young age. They are like brothers and would do anything for one another.

With the wraith shackles on my wrists, it would never allow me to shift. Wraith steels were a weapon used against werewolves. It could contain a wolf’s form and prevent us from shifting, so it was often used on prisoners. I heard that only a few could break it—those powerful few with stronger blood than the majority. How I wish I was one of them. Maybe I would have a chance to escape. I eventually lost count of how many days it had been since I was imprisoned. Every three days, the woman would take me out to change my clothes. There was a small bathroom outside the cell where I took my bath, but my shackles were never taken from me for even a second.

All around us, wolves screamed and howled. Nyra’s pack held their ground, but barely. They moved in their groups, coordinated like teeth in a biting jaw. They took down a Wraith, then moved to the next. But the Wraiths were built for death, their hide unnaturally thick, their bloodthirst too much. Two wolves got crushed under a single stomp just behind me. One was flung into a tree so hard the bark cracked with him. Another unit circled a Wraith whose leading leg was ripped off by Nyra.

The energies, violently ripped through conflicting realities and forced through the narrow conduit of my scarred hand, have… merged. It hovers. A wraith. Flickering, unstable. One moment, Kieran’s desperate eyes, wide with residual torment. The next, Arthur’s cruel, arrogant smirk. Their forms bleed into each other, a sickening kaleidoscope of shared agony and poisoned history. Kieran’s anguish twists into Arthur’s cold fury. Arthur’s satisfaction warps into Kieran’s despair. It’s a single entity now, vibrating with the dissonance of two souls forced into one unstable prison, bound by their connection to me, to that fatal moment. The wraith shudders. Its form coalesces slightly, features blu

Raina, you should’ve continued to run, Poppy growled into her head. They both ran after Alana, gaining on the crying witch as the wraith dragged her through the air. Poppy leaped tackling Alana to the ground, forcing the wraith to release its phantom hold. Without a thought, Raina jumped on the wraith and she was surprised that she felt an actual body beneath her paws. How was that even possible? Wraiths were spirits, not physically there. The wraith screeched in rage. She immediately sank her teeth into it and the wraith squealed in pain as if she was actually harming it. The body she felt started to fade away until her paws found the ground beneath her.

"Otherwise, even in death, I won't close my eyes. My soul will return to the Moon Temple and curse you!" Looking at his grandfather's aged face and resolute eyes, Ethan finally broke down and wept, letting out a desolate wolf howl. He knew that he and Ivy were truly over. Two years later. Paris. A solo art exhibition titled "Awakening" was being held. The protagonist of the exhibition was an up-and-coming werewolf artist named "Aurora." In the center of the exhibition hall hung a massive painting: Rebirth Under the Moon. Unlike traditional melancholic art, the white wolf in this painting ran freely under vast swathes of moonlight. Its silver-white fur looked like burning white flames, full o