Novel & Cerita Wraith Fanart

“So, she is part demon? One of Dante’s sprogs that slipped through the net?” “No,” Lucas leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees as a weary sigh escaped him. “Atlas and Amos don’t have wolf spirits remember? Chloe does; Hecate.” “Hecate? What kind of name is that?” “It’s the name of a Greek goddess. As far as we can tell, only the Wolfe line has a wolven spirit with a Greek name. Even Sierra and Alvaro don’t have them. So, how come she has one?” Lucas raised an eyebrow, hazel eyes darkening as the questions piled up. “I think we need to make a call.”

I moan in terror and agony, my hand slapping over my mouth as I reach for Anton, wanting to cling to him – wanting his support – The wraiths find what they’re looking for at last and grab onto it, shaking Anna as they set her soul free, pulling it forth – grey and insubstantial – from her body. The body itself falls to the ground in a heap, a dead husk, as the wraiths continue to swarm around her immortal soul. She continues to cry, sobbing and looking down at her body, as the wraiths pull her towards that black door in the center of the room.

Koa had arrived. Tora’s scales shimmered in twilight hues, catching the sun’s dying light. Maggie’s wings unfurled, each scale glittering like stars, eyes burning the color of sunset. Chelsea condensed into Athena, a grey wolf with white-tipped toes and black ears, moving with fluid, precise grace. Nalia burst into flame and feathers, her phoenix body blazing bright and fierce, wings spanning wide as the air itself seemed to shimmer with heat. Isolde’s shadowy form twisted and expanded, her vampiric energy coalescing into something terrifying, beautiful, and dangerous all at once.

The ones that can't enter Vernaden because what they have done. No one before me saw them it the flesh, let alone this close. The wraith wore armor that wasn't from this time period. I couldn't truly tell what time that was. The leader was riding a pure breed white stallion. The stallion's eyes were fiery red. The souls of the dead started leaving their bodies, dividing into two groups. The first one disappeared into the sky, while the second started changing into the wraiths so hideous that even the yalbals would be ashamed.

“We make a stand here.” Lucian’s jaw clenched, but he nodded. There was no use arguing. They couldn’t keep running forever. Elara forced herself to breathe, to push past the fear clawing at her throat. She would not be weak. Not now. Not when something far worse was coming. A shiver rippled down her spine as the air grew thick with unnatural cold. The shadows around them moved. Then, they stepped forward. Five wraiths, emerging from the dark like twisted reflections of the dead. Their bodies flickered between forms—half-shadow, half-decayed flesh. But their eyes… their eyes burned with the same blue fire she had seen in the throne room.

No magic in hand. The fire crackled louder, casting dancing shadows over the stranger’s cloak. “Hold,” Valen said softly, a hand raised to keep Thalen and Aric from lunging. His eyes narrowed, his voice steel. “Show your face.” The figure paused just at the edge of the firelight. Then, slowly, she lifted her hood. Gasps broke across the camp like a ripple through water. It was the Wraith. I rose to my feet like the others, the fire cracking loudly in the silence that followed. We all just… stared.