Wraith Folklore Novels & Stories

Konoiki screamed. "That is a Wraith mist," I thought to myself. I had read about it in the chronicles of the last great war. A lot was said about mists like this but the most important thing said was that they only emerge before great catastrophes, conjured up by only the most powerful dark mages. " I guess my foolish brother was right, we have a dark mage to deal with," I murmured.

the warriors start murmuring among themselves. "Isn't the woods declared to be dangerous for now? When did Prince Lucian found his mate? Is the rumor about a witch in Crisinda true?" The warriors asked among themselves while Russell paused for them to digest the piece of information he just passed before he continue. "Due to the rise in rogue sighting and the fruitless effort of the king to reach the prince, it is feared that the prince has most likely been abducted but we don't know where," another round of murmuring broke out among the warriors.

“In some places, no king’s order matters at all. There are exiles, raiders, oathbreakers, half-breeds, hunters, old cults, desperate families, creatures clever enough to speak and hungry enough to lie. Some hate the crowns. Some sell information to all three. Some kneel to whoever brings food. Some pretend neutrality while serving wraiths.” The last word seemed to move differently through the van. Wraiths. Astrid sat up straighter. I felt Ronan’s attention sharpen. Keiran’s silence changed too. Spiro noticed. Good. He probably meant us to. “You mentioned wraith lands,” I said. His gaze shifted to me. “Yes,” Spiro answered. “What are they?” I asked. “The places you do not enter,” Spiro replie

“wraith and revenant. they’re what, six weeks old? and already the healers say they’re shifting in their sleep. tiny furballs with gold eyes and violet ones, growling at shadows.” Rhea drained her tankard, set it down with a clunk. “i held wraith last night during the watch. she latched on that rag doll like it was a throat. little demon’s got her mother’s fire.” Kaelin leaned forward, elbows on knees, voice dropping. “and revenant? he quiets when you hum the old ironfang dirge. like he knows his father’s voice in it somewhere.” Serna swallowed hard, the lump in her throat tasting like ash. “they’re the only reason we’re still here, you know that? every time i swing this hammer, i see their

“The Wendrah.” The name dropped into the room like a corpse. Maddox muttered a curse and reached for his drink again. Maela paled. “Tell them,” I said. My voice was low. Careful. Lira moved to the fire, holding the bone talisman above the flames. Shadows danced across her face as she spoke. “The Wendrah was once wolfborn - a guardian spirit of the old clans. But it was corrupted. Twisted by blood magic and grief, it learned to feed on power. Especially the power carried by those of the royal lines.”

And then I saw it— I mean, really saw it. The trees. They were standing tall looking green and vibrant. Those were the same trees that had stayed dry and lifeless for the last four years. They hadn’t been like this since… Since Elira. I lifted my eyes and then I saw it. A faint glow above her. A symbol. A stain I had long erased from my memory, one I thought would never come back. It was the same mark that had glowed over Elira as she drew in her last breath. A red dragon with a half moon tail.

“Had to get back… warn you…” Ragnar’s jaw tightened, lightning dancing across his fingers before he clenched his fist to steady himself. “Warn us about what?” Kael’s breath hitched, pain tightening his features as he struggled to speak. “They’re coming… not just the council’s dogs… something else… moving through the rogue camps, forcing packs to kneel…” Raven felt Shadow growl beneath her skin, her eyes narrowing. “Who, Kael? Who’s coming?” Kael’s eyes met hers, fear flickering in their depths. “They call him The Wraith… claims he’s the true Alpha of these lands… he’s building an army…”

I followed, letting the Veil’s silver threads flow through my hands, skimming over the ground, searching for threats our eyes could not see. “Something’s ahead,” I whispered, tightening my grip on Cael’s hand. The Veil pulsed violently, coiling like it was warning me of immediate danger. Auren crouched beside us, bow drawn. “More Wraiths,” he said quietly. “Different than before. The Rift is shaping them and learning, adapting.” The first of them appeared as a blur, almost indistinct, limbs fractured and shifting unnaturally. Faces flickered in and out of recognition, eyes hollow yet filled with hunger. I felt a wave of nausea, fear, and awe all at once.

“His spirit’s journey obviously isn’t over… because we just had to have him subdued in our backyard and brought to the hospital wing to have his brain scrubbed by an ancient Greek goddess.” I wait patiently until Kas is ready to give me another update. She sighs in frustration and shakes her head. “Well, apparently, Wraith’s journey was supposed to be finished.” She rubs her hands together and looks around, trying to collect her thoughts. “BUT things got messed up when I liberated my sisters and refused a spot on Mount Olympus. He’s back because now that the Menae can have mates, they could also potentially have pups. Wraith handles werewolf lineage, and he has to be here on Earth for new bl

Arthur says, patting the books Ryatt just placed on the table. “Myths and legends aren’t proof,” Ryatt argues, but Arthur shakes his head. “Eastonia and Crescent Falls have long been considered the cradle of the wolf kind, yes, and while our history spans thousands of years, there’s a lot we don’t know about the time before the Firestone witches. Misty can attest to that,” Arthur remarks, cracking open one of the books and blowing the dust from the pages. “Anything before the dawn of the Firestones is lost to time, I’m afraid, but their own legends and folktales were passed down through the generations, stories about immortal beings with fangs–vampires–who require blood to survive. And… faer