Blooming Drow Head Novels & Stories

The magic that bound the short drow in place waned, so she hopped down from where she was hanging, while the tall drow started hacking off the ice that encased him. "Fucking bitch. We were just having a conversation, why are you like that?" she started screaming hysterically. "I was just trying to give your friend a make-over, so that Ashvell would love-" before she could even finish, Ashvell's axe met her face, slicing through half of her skull. The axe and her head gets lodged onto the wall behind her and a lock of her silver hair falls down into the pool of blood that is forming at her feet.

In the room he looked around, a worried expression appeared on his face: "This has nothing to do with me, I'm weak. How can I kill him? Captain Stan looked at the young man in front of him, at his small body. He wears a pair of glasses that makes him looks like a student; his body is small, about 1m59 in heights. He pondered: "Who is it after all; it's already the third case. What does that black rose mean, why does every case have a rose in the victim's mouth?

Rain was pouring heavily, leaving some loose strands of hair dangling around her drenched face. Her black converse bonnet is soaking wet and it felt so frore on her head. Calming herself, she listened to the voice in her head, having no other options for help. The creature before her kept grunting as if speaking in a language she doesn't understand. "Now Luna, orcs are VERY dumb. All you need to do is repeat after me, and by my signal you should sprint to the direction I told you—to that dark alleyway."

​With a desperate spring, Astrid threw herself across the narrowing gap, landing hard against Kaelen’s chest with an audible oof that knocked the remaining breath from his lungs. ​"Don't say a single word," Kaelen muttered, gritting his teeth. "I wasn't even going to." "Good." ​A concussive roar shook the chamber down to its bedrock, forcing everyone’s gaze upward. The ancient body had fully extricated itself from the tomb floor. It stood twice the height of a normal man, a towering, emaciated figure whose naked frame was webbed with fine fissures glowing with an eerie, pulsed silver luminescence. Shards of ancient stone still clung like armor to its legs, and its matted hair hung wet and he

Yes, you go on You're poisonous and I know it's true All my friends think you're vicious I Feel Like I'm Drowning - Two Feet (...) Ella The shrill sound of my cell phone waking me up makes me open my eyes, my head throbbing, like it's going to explode at any moment. Lying face down on the pillow, I stretch out my arm, running my hand across the mattress, trying to find the cell phone. - Shut the hell up! - I mutter without removing the pillow from my face, and even the sound of my voice makes my head throb more from the pain.

My name is Elora and I reside at the Blue Mountain Packhouse. I have a slim figure, long curly blonde hair which I usually wear up in a bun so it is out of my face. My eyes are a deep blue which I love. I am not a normal girl though. You see I am a shewolf, my rank at the packhouse is an omega. I don’t know my parents because they passed away when I was just a tiny baby, so I don’t have any memories of them. The only thing I have is a necklace locket from my mother. I have never taken it off because it makes me feel close to her spirit.

Aria’s claws flared, her bond with Kael burning. She stood, pulling him up, her body screaming in pain. The howl grew louder, the crimson light pulsing, a new crack splitting the floor. Lyra’s eyes widened. “He's coming back.” Torin growled, his claws scraping the stone. “And he’s not alone.” The crack widened, crimson light flooding the chamber. A figure emerged Drenvar, his eyes glowing, his form stronger, darker. Behind him, the Daughter stood, her claws glinting, a new shard in her hand.

Miss, your clothes," Elena said as she came in with a tray of clothes. Clatter! Christine rose from the bathtub and walked out, and at that moment red light seemed to shine from the depths of her black eyes. (One hundred words omitted here) Clatter! The tray in Elena's hands fell to the floor, along with the clothes on it, but no one paid any attention. (Two hundred words omitted) It was more than an hour before the red light in Christine's eyes disappeared, while Elena had passed out more than ten minutes earlier. Every Bloodline Warlock will face the urge from their bloodline when they reach adulthood. As the name suggests, once this symptom strikes, they become impulsive, bloodthirsty and

The elder, heart aching, still had to ask, "Are you sure this will stop them from unleashing chaos?" "It's made from the World Tree. Their connection's cut, so they can't." That was the reply. The Demons' commander scoffed and said, "You're harsh with your own wives. Almost admirable, in a demonic way." "The Twin Blossoms of Ruin deserve nothing less," Rein said. Blood tears fell from my eyes; my every memory of Rein turned to dust and echoes. However, even with their research, those two harbored doubts. So, Rein leaned in close and whispered, "This is just to buy time. I swear I'll come to the Demon World to save you."

She wore rags that had once been clothing, torn and filthy, barely covering the worst of the damage done to her body. But it was her eyes that destroyed him. They were the color of storm clouds, grey with hints of silver, and they burned with a defiance that should have been impossible. She'd been beaten, starved, chained, sold—and still, *still*, there was fire in her gaze as she was hauled onto that platform. *Mate,* his wolf whispered with absolute certainty. *MATE.* And Kael Dravenhart, Crown Prince of Virelion, heir to the throne, trained weapon of his father's will, felt his entire world shatter and reform around the broken girl on the platform.