A Game Of Thrones Graphic Novels & Stories

For him, it was all about Veritas. Veritas' art was something else. Bold, daring, and always exposing the dirty secrets of the rich and powerful. Alexander loved the thrill of it, even if some of those secrets hit close to home. The fact that no one knew Veritas' real identity just added to the excitement. He stepped out of his car, not bothering to smooth his rumpled shirt. Who cared what he looked like? He was Alexander Elysian, after all. The gallery was quiet, with only a few patrons wandering about. Perfect. He made his way upstairs to the spot where Veritas' work was usually displayed, but to his disappointment, the space was empty.

I am certain that all the color must have drained from my face as he just ended the video call. I pace frantically before beginning to hastily pack a bag. I would just leave surely I could figure this out. Suddenly I am running to the bathroom to be sick yet again. Laying on the cold tile floor with tears streaming down my blotchy cheeks reality crashes in on me as rational thought returns. There is no leaving a pack without permission and there is no way Drake will let me go. I have to come up with a plan and make sure I have the upper hand before I see Drake again. I am going to have to match power and wit with my alpha. If only I could talk to my old tormentor Drake and not my Alpha Drake

) Zakerius Togar - Zah-kee-rius Toh-Gah *This will be updated as more characters are introduced.

And there, ahead, where the valley narrowed into the mouth of the pass itself, was a scene of tense stalemate. On one side of a rushing, glacial river, a makeshift camp flew the banners of several eastern lowland lords—a silver gryphon, a green serpent, a black tower. Perhaps two hundred men-at-arms were arrayed in disciplined ranks, their pikes gleaming dully in the overcast light. At their head, on a sleek chestnut horse, was a man in polished half-plate: Lord Gryffen, his face handsome and cruel under a trimmed beard.

“Open it.” Nico reached under the console and withdrew a velvet-lined box. The same one that was on the screen. He set it on the table and flicked the clasp. Inside, a single chess piece lay on its side: a knight, carved from onyx. Beside it was a folded slip of card. He slid the card to Nero. Nero opened it with a thumb, eyes flicking once across the line. “‘Check,’” he read aloud, the word drained of surprise, of anything but cold interest. “Cute,” he added, turning the card around to see if there was anything on the back.

"He's nothing but bones now, he can't touch me. However, you, you're the one I need to protect!" …… Jim yanked the bone arrow out of his chest and strode back to the battlefront. Every city camera was live-streaming the chaos, but aside from the wind's constant hum, there was a haunting silence. It was as if the world had hit the pause button. My mom stopped her tears, eyes glued to the screen. She watched as dark clouds swirled with Haunts, their rage shredding every creature in their path. Telephone poles were ripped from the ground, their sparks setting fire to dumpsters.

All he could see was her, and the mystery she carried. He was still lost in his thoughts as he approached the great stone doors of the courtyard. His boots thudded against the floor with each heavy step. The towering torches crackled on either side, casting shadows that danced against the walls like restless spirits. But the moment he pushed the doors open, the warmth drained from him. Lord Draven was waiting. Standing with his back turned, facing the grand throne that loomed above the dais, Draven did not turn to greet him. The air was colder here. Tense. Still.

He wore a thick, black robe. Springtime in the capital wasn't that cold, so the robe was overly thick for the weather. I figured this was a habit Gideon had gotten into after all his years in Morbeck. He probably couldn't change so quickly. His Majesty beckoned to me when he saw me. Only then did I get to see Gideon up close. He was handsome, and his gaze was sharp. Appearance-wise, he was definitely good-looking. The only thing was that his skin was coarse and that he had a scar marring his cheek.

Finally, Maxwell couldn't help but ask, "So, what exactly is it?" I gave Logan a subtle gesture. He hit the remote again, and the black-and-white screen burst into a riot of color. The audience watched in awe as they saw images of Ashenford's buildings, its river, and the bustling streets—all projected in vivid color. But what about the round ball? With a smile, my other team member, William, raised his pointer stick and tapped the center of the city on the screen. Logan clicked the remote, and suddenly, a transparent, glowing orb appeared in the middle of the city.