Belgarath The Sorcerer Audiobook Novels & Stories

“Sorcerer, your malevolent actions have brought suffering to our pack. We demand you leave our lands at once.” The figure chuckled darkly; the sound sending a shiver down my spine. “Ah, the mighty Alpha Dominic and his band of misfits. How quaint,” the sorcerer drawled, their voice dripping with malice. Stepping out of the shadows, they revealed themselves to be a tall figure cloaked in intricate robes, their face obscured by a hood. “Weak creatures, you dare to challenge me?” the sorcerer sneered, their hands crackling with dark energy. “I am beyond your feeble understanding, and your defiance will only bring about your downfall.”

I hadn't heard him open the door or noticed when Helga and Reyna stepped out of the small room. My body glowed, filling up the dark space. My magic hummed in my veins as the room started to morph into a nightmare. The walls started to melt. The chairs began to decay with age. I sucked in a deep breath focusing on Balor. "I promised I wouldn't harm you. I gave you my word," He reassured me. I looked around the room and peeked over his shoulder at Helga. She gave me a little nod. I let out a shaky breath as I turned my focus back to his Sapphire eyes.

There were dozens, maybe hundreds, yet somehow it was the same voice, breaking through and pressing in from every direction. ‘I’m going to take back what’s mine.’ ‘You can’t stop me.’ ‘I will make sure you die here.’ ‘The Veil will open today.’ My pulse quickened. ‘Failure of a granddaughter. Look at what they’ve done to my granddaughter.’ A lump formed in my throat. Gloria? There was too much to process. Too much I couldn’t process because my mind could barely keep up as a shadow tore through the barrier. Baelor… Sora yelped, her fingers digging into Thorne’s feathers. She squeezed the side of his head, forcing his beak open. Her head turned away as the raven forced out another cry, and the

Cal had to fight himself from stepping in front of the man as he moved closer to Astasha. If she was afraid, she wasn’t showing it. But even if Calder hadn’t been able to feel it through their connection, he knew her enough to know that she had set her resilience, and she would die before she would show them what they wanted; shame and humility. “Sorceress Astasha, I presume,” Said the mage. “I am High Sorcerer Alaric. I’ve heard much about you, but I am so looking forward to hearing your explanation as to why we are here.”

I asked him. “The man we are here to see?” he asked me. “No, the man who brought you here!” I replied aggressively. Everyone, especially Fernando, should know how I hate repeating or explaining myself. “He’s dead!” “That’s great, I want no stones unturned” I said to him pleasingly. “Are you here to see me?” A strange cold voice whispered in the air. “How dare you! Show up this moment” I commanded. “I’m sorry Beloved Alpha” he appeared. He had long white hair, and he did look like the perfect description of a renowned but literate sorcerer.

Yet within that silence, he found something powerful: whispers. Not the whispers of men, but echoes that clung to books too ancient for sunlight. Volumes that shouldn’t exist anymore. Manuscripts bound in dark red leather, inked in languages older than the cathedral itself. At first, Arthur ignored them. Focused on restoring old texts, cataloguing records, organizing theological archives. But one book changed everything—"Sanguis Altarum." The Blood of Altars. He found it hidden behind a false panel, sealed with wax and scripture. The moment he touched it, something inside him snapped awake. Visions plagued his dreams afterward. An altar surrounded by shadows. A woman with Isabella’s eyes scr

Tristan warned, his senses on high alert. Their footsteps echoed through the corridors, a symphony of determination. In the heart of the stronghold, a figure waited— Ravenswood, Archon Xantos’ sorcerer. Before the warriors understood what was happening, Ravenswood threw magical potions in the air, their darkness spreading fast among the warriors. "Victory is mine," Ravenswood declared, his voice dripping with malice like venom from a snake's fangs. The sound echoed through the stronghold's cold stone corridors, mingling with the stench of sweat, blood, and despair.

I start to dart past him, leaving the three princes together to ponder a bit about what just happened before they decided to follow me. I feel weird. I remember Gorshe to be a very terrifying demon so hearing how it cowers in our presence almost made me question Belphegor’s claims. However, when I caught up with the beast and saw how frantic it was at clawing and climbing it’s way to the upper cave levels, I started to believe.

"I also felt it earlier, but when I wanted to investigate it. The figure has already left and left no trace at all. Even my abilities can't detect where it went!" A conversation that probably not everyone will understand. It all started 5 years ago when Edward and Harry were kidnapped. They experience things that are very sadistic and torture that make Edward's power and his unknown identity appear out of nowhere. Edward is a vampire, a spiritual being who is often considered a myth. While Harry is a Siren, a kind of living creature that lives in the depths of the water in Middle Earth. All of this seemed unbelievable to both of them. But this is real. And what always makes them wonder is ab