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The God of calamity’s wife: return of the 13th

Penulis: A_Meza_13
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What happens when your fated mate is an entity of death? You might find that you love them through many lifetimes. Or never meet them at all. Come enjoy this story of love and war as Sirius a vampire with the blood of Loki and a beast in his veins and Saoirse his wife, a werewolf continue their journey after their death as reincarnated beings. This is the second book in the series but it can be read non- chronologically. the first is more like a prologue. Culminating ultimately with Ragnarok this is a tale of origins of gods and untold stories of realms not just Asgard but from the perspective of creatures of death. Should Odin really be king and is hell really a bad place? ***be sure to save my other two books in this series! this will be a 4 book series with a 5th book grand finale. this is not a sequel the first 4 can be read in any order and book 1 is complete. the finale will be the only one you should read after the other 4 because all characters will come together. It’s going to be epic!**

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Chapter 11- the return of the 13th

Alastor, king of the vampires stood before the roaring fire, his crimson cloak and armor catching the light of the flickering flames. 

In his hand, he held the ashes of his son, the last remnants of a lineage he once hoped would carry out his plans. 

With a sharp flick of his wrist, he tossed the bag into the inferno. The embers hissed and crackled as they consumed it, the fire seeming to roar louder as if echoing the king's fury.

A frown deepened on his face. His son—a weakling, a fool—had defied him in every way. He had dared to turn his back on his birthright, running off with that werewolf wife, dying with her. 

Alastor's grip tightened on the parchment in his hand, the edges crumpling from his grasp.

"But now," he murmured to the flames, his voice low and venomous, "he's nothing more than dust. Fitting."

Disappointment churned in his chest, not knowing where it came from, but it was quickly overtaken by something far darker—anticipation. He uncurled his fingers, revealing the stolen letter and flipped it over.

It was addressed to Linus. Also dead. And her family.

On the aged parchment was the address of the last of the werewolf clans. His son's foolishness had led Alastor to this gift, and for that, the king almost felt a glimmer of gratitude.

Almost.

He traced a claw along the envelope, unsealing the contents, his eyes gleaming with malevolent delight. "The time has come," he whispered, his voice like the hiss of a blade being unsheathed. "Their kind will kneel before me. I will strip them of their pride and their loyalty; their pathetic notions of pack and freedom. Their fight to defy me."

The firelight danced in his eyes as he envisioned his plan unfolding. "I will make them mine. Their claws will become fangs, their fur will burn away, and their savage instincts will yield to bloodlust. The werewolves will no longer howl at the moon. They will thirst for blood."

He would make them all vampires. 

A low chuckle escaped his throat, rising into a deep, echoing laugh. The shadows of his castle seemed to tremble with his malice. The Vampire King Alastor was ready to unleash a darkness unlike anything the world had ever seen. As quickly as he had burned the ashes he sat down. He was going to watch it burn.

Then suddenly the fire turned green.

He stood up.

"No! No! No! It can't be!"

The ashes that were once black had turned golden, a sign of his son's imminent rebirth.

"Sirius!" he exclaimed in astonishment.

He scooped the ashes from the fire with a dust pan. Embers jumping out at him in protest,"No!!!!!"

"No! No! No!…."No! No! No! But where is he?

"Then I'll have my second chance; if he's alive then!" he cried.

"I'll go to Helheim! I'll even visit that witch if I have to! I will be sure to corrupt him this time—and make sure that his beast has more control!

"Sirius won't be a weakling this time! Mark my words—I will have it! I will have it! I will have it!"

"I will have Odin's head, mark my words!"

———————

In a dark space below, as the embers above burned, particles of light filtered in and out of view. In this space there was silence. An endless night and weightless whispers.

Like a poem, the particles— caught in flight.

In a place— where everything doesn't breathe. 

In a life, with no heartbeat and no sound: 

They twirled in the darkness, the cold, in cosmic stillness.

Shadows were sleeping. 

Particles like a spark, a dancing flame.

The victim of death knew not his name. 

Like a poem no gravity infiltrated.

No winds stirred, nothing made a sound.

They floated in dreams that never ceased,

In the vast, eternal peace.

Time stands still forever. 

—Suddenly a light appeared!

—Out of the darkness a voice coaxed them to come to him. 

He gently guided them through the darkness and took hold of them. 

He blew life into them and declared,

"Sirius now is not the time for sleeping."

And just like that, the dream world had ended.

The man formed the particles together and gave them the shape of a boy.

He hugged the boy tightly and eventually the boy hugged him back.

Though he was groggy and didn't know who he was, he opened his eyes and looked up at the man. The man had black hair and calm eyes. His smile was gentle. He had long golden horns on top of his head like a goat.

But this man was also dramatic. A long cape flowed behind him and his body was lean. The man emanated with power, mystery, and craftiness. 

Sirius didn't know what to think of him, but he had an aura that he could be trusted. 

"Who are you?" He asked in his mind. And the man answered back. 

"I am Loki." The man said. 

Sirius looked at the man and recognized his name slightly. "I think I have been looking for you." He answered. 

Loki smiled, "Come with me, it is time I take you to your wife.

—————-

The Bifröst opened and a man stumbled into Odin's court, ruler of Asgard.

The man's face was pale and streaked with tears. He collapsed onto one knee, his voice trembling as he spoke.

"The letter… he has it.The vampire king knows where the werewolves are."

The room fell silent, the weight of his words settling over them like a stormcloud.

Odin frowned. But it was inevitable. In fact, it had been his plan. 

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