Wraith Folklore Novels & Stories

“Did you hear that?” Torren’s daggers were already in his hands, his eyes darting to the shadows. “Yeah. And it’s not the wind.” The whispers grew louder, a chorus of voices speaking in a tongue long forgotten. From the cavern’s depths, shapes began to emerge—ethereal, translucent figures, their forms flickering like dying flames. Their eyes were hollow sockets, their mouths open in silent screams. “Wraiths,” Elara breathed, her voice trembling. “Spirits bound to the prophecy. They’re drawn to the fragments.”

"That doesn't explain the name." Sethlzaar shrugged. "With the mist around it, it looked like a wraith." Wraiths were a controversial topic in the realm. Its history told of people who claimed they had seen their departed loved ones hovering in the air. They always described them to have taken a form where the edge of their skin blew with the wind. The church had called them wraiths, souls of the departed returning to the bosom of Truth. Many doubted it. "I saw a wraith once," Cenam said, his attention never leaving the wolf. "'Twas my mother. We had committed her to the fire two days before."

"Yes. Yes I very much do expect you to sleep on the floor." If the ball was in her court, Niva would've vehemently refused. But he was the one with the knowledge she needed. "Fine, take the bed, I don't care. Just tell me more about what this thing is and how we can stop it." "Not what. Who?." Her lip parted slightly and he furthered in explanation. "Wraiths are paranormal entities, but before the time of transition into death they were living people. Fueled by nothing but vengeance." He smacked his lips amusingly.

“The Aether sought me out… and the Aether lives in you. Therefore, you called me.” I looked down instinctively, then up at Valen, whose expression had gone still. “The Wraiths,” he said quietly, never taking his eyes off her, “were among the first beings to walk these lands. They helped shape Lyria from raw stone and sky. Their connection to the land… to its magic… is absolute.” If the fae didn’t age like mortals, and the Wraiths came before even the oldest of courts, then this being had lived not just centuries—but thousands of years.

At Holcomb Bridge, His father had taught him about the secrets of his ancestors that no one knew about. People knew they had unimaginable strength as Nati's blessed, but never knew the secret of all their victories. The first secret was the wraith army, if a Nayak king was driven to a corner, with defeat flashing through his eyes. He can take Nati's bow and a golden arrow and shoot it into the sky, Nati's army would respond to him and fight the war with him. The soldiers of this army are wraiths, they look like normal Nayaki soldiers but they are undead, they match the strength of the king and they cannot be killed.

He hadn't even opened his mouth yet. Some evil spirits came over, all sticky and covered in blood, like they'd eaten a lot of living souls. They went straight up to the Wraith Infant and said, "You're not on that living soul's shoulder, so that soul isn't yours. Move, or I'll swallow you too!" the Wraith Infant had to quickly say, "You swallow it, let me see how you do it." These clueless weirdos just had to save the grown-up right in front of him!

“I could be talking about them the whole week, and still, I couldn’t say anything concrete. Basically, they’re believed to be energy currents that crisscross the earth everywhere. The idea was born in England after the Great War, and it’s been always looked down upon as new-age hippie gibberish. They’re not scientifically measurable per se, so far, but they say their effects can be felt or tracked down along history. They can’t even make up their minds about whether they flow over ground or underground.” “Cool, nice librarian intro. Now spill the beans. What d’you know or believe about them?” Amy laughed. “I think they’re underground currents of telluric energy and they are like rivers. Some

But the look in the man with gray eyes told me he wasn’t joking. He truly believed it. And worse, there was a part of me, deep, deep inside, that wondered if it might be true or just a mere Story. “No,” I whispered, shaking my head, backing away from him, slowly. “I can’t just be.” “You are, Crysta,” he said firmly, his voice unwavering. “It’s in your blood, in your bones,in your flesh. You’ve felt it, haven’t you? The pull, the power? It’s been waiting for you to wake up.”

There was surprise etched on Aldric's face this time, "That's impossible." Those creatures were supposed to be confined to the Tamry forest where all the monsters he fought came from. Unlike the Orcs, wraiths were much more dangerous because they were impervious to Fae magic. The creatures would feed on it instead alongside their life force until the Fae was, you know, gone. If the prince was indeed attacked by one of those, then he was probably dead and this was a reason to celebrate. Aldric was secretly delighted. The king grunted, his patience already running out, "Impossible or not, the evidence is there and your brother is missing."

Frya is a rare werewolf, legendarily named the Wild Beast and she learned of her real nature years after she lost all her family, save one brother, in the Great Battle, inspired by the Sisterhood. Now tinted with the mark of revenge, Riyin, alongside his best friend, Frya, embark on the quest to find the Sisterhood, a coven of the most powerful witches, the Violet Witch included, and avenging his family's death. Through fights, hunger, and many brushes with death, they finally find the Sisterhood, but they are not ready for what they meet.