Avatar Rangi Novels & Stories

Don't forget to comment and vote for the story! Until the next update of Queen Rouge. -Rama✌

she said, flaring her nostrils. “How can we trust you?” Gamma Nash asked. “Well. My leader’s name is Zeve. She has a strange red Katana that turns into seven fairies. All of them have sun tattoos on their wings and… and… oh boy! I shouldn’t have revealed so much…” Aria covered her mouth with her hands. “We can trust her,” I said. “I would have trusted her even if she was lying because I don’t want to miss any chance now. Gamma Nash, please take care of the pack. I am going to Phantoria right now.”

he pointed out, looking at the five of us. I shrugged, “the elements we control influence our physical traits.” I smiled as I looked at my sisters bickering. We really didn’t look alike. Ari had black hair which was straight and fell to her lower back and intense green eyes that turned orange when she used her powers, her red peasant dress showed off the curves on her tall hourglass frame. The wing tattoos on her back were shades of oranges, yellows, and reds. A complete contrast to Huricana with her long dark blonde hair, pale green eyes, which turned white when she used her power. Her purple peasant dress showed her slight frame. Her wing tattoos were on her back in shades of white, greys

For the time being, her aunt, Princess Ava prefers to stand among the rangers of the four realms spread at the river bank in their color-coded garments. Princess Aria scans the rangers assembled. Their group stands in an organized fashion vividly with shades of blue, green, white and orange. For this occasion, the rangers wear the colors of their realm and not their ranger clothing. The Princess spots Caspian among the green-clothed rangers. Caspian is looking at her too. Both smile when their eyes meet. Princess Aria is contented with their current relationship. She feels comfortable with it although their status has no label.

He instantly returned a reply. "It's violet! Not purple, douchebag." She replied, adjusting her newly made fringe even I couldn't tell the difference between it's bright colour and pink. It resembled the exact colour of strawberry flavoured ice cream, or a typical barbie pink. Truly, Raya did admire the new hair style. She'd just never have it in pink, or any other attracting colour. Grey, brown, maybe... But never pink!

“Kiara.” I looked at him and was about to argue when Raven, my feisty sexy temperamental best friend came running over. Raven was a little younger than me and still 17 years old. She had her black hair cut in a bob with bangs with red and plum streaks in it. The most unique thing about her was her mix-matched eyes. The left was an icy blue and the right was a blue-green. Did I mention she was also tiny at 4 feet 9 inches? “Kia!” she said, wrapping her arms around my waist and hugging me tightly. She was dressed all in black, I don’t think she owned many other colours. Maybe the occasional purple or red.

Their parents used to dress them alike with Xzander. Charles Arroyo: An unofficial Resistance leader of an outpost. His species is human. He has curly brown hair, that is shoulder length. Light peppered freckles that are hidden by his glasses. Lavender eyes. He was found heavily guarded. He has alliances with trolls & vampires from the resistance. He wears Constellation leggings & a charm bracelet with magic powers. It was given to him by his adopted mother, a troll. He has fake vampire teeth & scent to disguise himself as a vampire but it didn't fly past the Nero family. He was raised by trolls. His boots are shredded & old. He keeps his hair tied up in a messy bun. His wrists are scared wi

Did he really think I was speaking rhetorically? "An Avatar is like you and me, but they can do so much more, you could be a berserker with magic, you could be a wizard with swordsmanship, there's even this girl in the capital, a tank healer and she can control spirits, imagine this talent when she is older!"

There was no warmth in those exchanges, no sense of kinship, only the acknowledgment of shared obligation. In the bathroom’s stale light, I splashed cold water over my face, willing it to wash away the heaviness. The reflections staring back at me—tired, wary, yet stubbornly holding onto something that resembled hope—offered no comfort, but I refused to look away. I studied my deep brown and golden skin, the way my long, raven-colored curls framed my face, and the intensity of my dark brown eyes. There, in the glass, I noticed a single, slender silver streak woven through my hair, glinting under the harsh fluorescent glow. My eyes, too, seemed to play tricks; for a fleeting moment, I caught