Azulon Avatar Novels & Stories

Azraiel’s Gamma, Theo was on his knees bowing in front of his mate, the Luna of the Blue Orchid Pack. Theo lifts his head a little, his eyes shine with unshed tears. He looks straight into the black wolf’s eyes and says, “Alpha!”

Al’ik said with a weak smile. “Al’ik no, I am almost fully recovered, I will handle the beast myself, do not do this” Azulthaël demanded, stepping forward and grabbing Al’ik by the arm. “Is that so?” Al’ik replied, raising an eyebrow, quickly rapping Azulthaël in the ribs, watching him wince in pain, “seems like it is nowhere near fully recovered.” “I am trying to find any other option than this, you don’t know if it draws too much power and you fade” Azulthaël replied, his reply full of emotion.

And I'm guessing you know about the prophecy. Benjamin nodded with thoughts running chaotically in his head. He knew of the prophecy, and he had left his son twelve years ago in search of the avian hybrid. "We're screwed. She's unstoppable. Only a teal werewolf whose eyes glow differently from any other werewolf can liberate us." "I don't think she's unstoppable yet. She can't even control her powers." "Then now's the time to strike!" Benjamin said and exited the room after locking it from the outside and taking the keys.

I hesitated, the familiar scent of his old leather armor causing my inner wolf to search for the ghost of the warrior who had once sworn to bleed for my survival. Aziel flicked the glowing ash into the snowbank. For the first occurrence since his liberation from the Bloodmoon Iron Hold, he initiated direct, unforced conversation with my beast. "My claws have officially assumed command of Zoraya’s paternal tech-sector. Of late, my engineers have been drafting a joint vanguard defense project alongside the Calder Dominion." "To what end does that concern my path?" I replied, my voice achieving an even, chilling stability that surprised my own core. Aziel studied my face, his gold eyes register

Azul’s sword was enchanted—and that pretty much applied to the rest of his armor. He had enhanced strength, durability, focus, resistance, and most importantly, speed! ~ZZTZZ!~ His blade crackled with electricity, the energy coursing through his entire armor, creating sparks that danced around him. Azul held back from using his [Lightning Field] Skill early on, since stunning the enemy wasn’t necessary for this particular task. His role was to distract and lure the enemy in while his partner, Fey, handled the rest. However, Azul found such a complicated maneuver to be a chore, especially given their formidable opponent.

“I do not know who the Avatar of Inoss or Uzriel are. I do not even know who you are.” “I am a Seer,” the woman said. She was still kneeling before Nixx. “The Avatar is the last of his name, he who has the blood of the first Paladin flowing through his veins. He who has entered the Sea of Flames, and the Fire did not burn him but embraced him. He who Inoss judged and found worthy. He who is loved both by Addanos and Inoss.” A strong wind started making it difficult for Ayla to hear the next words. “Uzriel is—” The wind kept blowing, waking Nixx.

The sun begins to lower through the sky, leaving orange glints reflecting off all the metals in the satellite dishes and vents that lead up here. I walk briskly closer until I'm completely behind him, watching his ink-covered back muscles tense with every blow. -Azael- I say this time, trying to normalize my breathing. Amon hits the bag looser before turning around. His torso is naked and a few beads of sweat fall down his black-colored body. His mouth is ajar to breathe easier and his chest goes up and down frantically. -What are you doing here? -question. His voice makes me shiver.

The sapphire lines across my belly spun wildly, pulling my strength inward, not outward — the Void recognizing its ancient jailer. The Avatar drifted closer, stopping only three paces away. From beneath its cloak it drew a weapon — The Abyssal Ice Harpoon, five feet long, forged from the frozen waters of the deepest trench, barbed with three jagged prongs that steamed with a cold capable of stopping an immortal’s heart. “Your mate is sixty leagues north, smashing puppets of mud,” it hissed, tilting its head with terrible curiosity. “By the time he smells the blood of this room… the pact shall be sealed.”

My gaze flicked to every corner, every balcony, every servant who passed. Julise nudged me again. "See that man trying too hard to look bored? Kier Malen. Underground seat. Goblin blood. Knows everything. Probably has ears in your pillowcase." "Good to know," I said. Julise grinned. "We’re almost done. Just don’t look at Zarah too long. She can smell rebellion." Zarah Venmoor. The new healer rep. Part wolf, part something else. She had kind eyes, but the way she stood—too still, too calm—made me uneasy.

It was painfully obvious no one had ever given him enough time to. Not when the pain never stopped. Not when new wounds arrived before the old ones had a chance to heal. For a while, only the sound of water and soft movements filled the room. Then Raven spoke. “Are you really the Luna of the pack?” His voice was quiet. Careful. Like he was testing whether the answer might disappear if he touched it too hard. Azerbel continued gently cleaning his arms. “Yes.” The answer was simple. Steady. Safe. A few seconds passed.