Wraith Folklore Novels & Stories

I tilted my head, asking her if there was anything she needed. “Nat? What’s wrong?” I asked. She didn’t speak. Rather, she pulled me closer. Her face is now buried under my neck and her heavy sighs are creeping through my skin. “Natyaramona!” I called again, probing for the matter. “B-blood....” she managed to utter before fainting in my arms. My eyes widened as my body froze. Natya is a witch and a she-wolf. Her asking for blood could only mean one thing - she was successfully converted into a vampire.

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.

Claire POV "Wraiths?" Alpha Jaxon exclaimed as he pulled back from the window. "Yes, vengeful spirits that turned into wraiths due to their bitter grudge," Miss Antoinette affirmed, pulling back from the window as well. "You mean to say that there are evil spirits in our school right now?" His brows shot up, and he looked incredulous. "Indeed," the witch answered calmly. "And they are responsible for the decay of your environment. They carry around bad energy that plagues every living thing in their wake."

Low murmurs ripple through the hall like a rising storm, the weight of unspoken judgments pressing against my chest. The elders, draped in ceremonial robes, move toward the central platform with the solemn grace of those who have seen centuries of bloodshed and hard-won victories. Their faces, etched with wisdom and battle scars, remain unreadable as they take their places. In the middle of a circle of wolves, a frail, trembling figure curls inward, barely clothed, her skin too pale against the flickering torchlight. A vampire—small, human-like, and fragile-looking—yet undeniably dangerous.

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.

Ethan opened the search page and started reading it. The Golden Book of Mysteries is an ancient book that contains all secrets about supernatural beings, their behaviors, and abilities. This book was with the most powerful ruler of the vampire world-the ruler of the Celestial Kingdom. However, the kingdom was burned down in a fight. some people say that the book got burned during the war. some say that the golden book got buried in the land. Many people and researchers tried to dig and find the book but they couldn't.t find it. they also researched and analyzed the ashes but couldn't find any traces of the golden book. They believe that the golden book is been taken by someone and it still e

Hecate waved her hand through the mirror, dissipating it into a fog. "You mean Karmina. From my understanding, she has started making some movement about four years ago." Willow mentioned as she recalled the information Miss J shared with her. Karmina had been recruiting Rogues from different Supernatual groups, Witches especially. She had made a scene in the Werewolf community, but as to why, Miss J hadn't told her. Hecate nodded along as if reading her thoughts.

--- The Memory Beneath “I saw cities beneath the mud—made of bone and glass. Towers that pulsed like hearts. Creatures shaped like prayers. Some still moved. Others were frozen in death, still screaming without mouths. They were waiting—not for food, but for someone to listen. “They believe the ocean was once a sky. That we used to fly. That wings fell when we betrayed the first tide god, and the water rose to drown us in punishment. “They call that betrayal the First Drift. And they still speak of it in dreams. “I was brought before one of their Thrones. A living shell made from the skulls of sailors. It looked into me—not at me, into—and said I had a voice that remembered how to open doors

I smiled to myself, “I almost forgot about them.” The Alliance is something my grandma Abby started before she was even pregnant with my Uncle Nico and Grandma Ashina. It’s an alliance between the werewolf species and almost every other species known. It started with White Witches and Dragons. Now it also includes Demons, Angels, Weresnakes, Weregators, Werecats, Werebears, Werehawks, Fairies, Fae, Mermaids, Centaurs, and now Dark Witches. It’s a huge alliance that has resulted in mixed species mates and their children, hybrids. Members of the alliance help one another in times of crisis or war. The alliance was involved in a huge war that resulted in my mom losing almost all of one of her k

“Worse.” Before she could demand what that meant, the wind shifted—then split with a howl so unnatural it curdled the air. It wasn’t animal. It wasn’t spirit. It was pain given voice. Grief. Hunger. Rage. A sound stitched together from nightmares. The trees shook violently. Somewhere, birds took flight—then dropped dead mid-air. Kaelen’s expression turned grim. “Wraith-hounds. Dren’s summoned them.” Lyra’s stomach twisted violently.