Dark Elf Malekith Novels & Stories

Each of them has their own special powers. The aquatic elves had an appearance of blue skin with white stripes and patches or deep green skin, mottled and striped with brown. They live inside water having the ability to detect minute changes in the currents of the water and could hear sounds underwater that surface dwellers could not perceive. Dark elves live in caves, having a purple skin, which is usually of a very dark, almost black hue having powers; strength, speed, stamina, durability, agility, and reflexes. Some Dark Elves, like Malekith, can use fairy magic to shapeshift, teleport, and project energy blasts, deep elves live in darkness underground having strength, intelligence and de

"These were my people. The shadows I came from. He killed them and used their power to sustain himself." "He will not kill anyone else." Elif's voice was cold. "This ends tonight." The old Council leader emerged from the shadows at the far end of the chamber. He looked smaller than Elif remembered, frailer, his gray skin hanging loose on his bones, his white eyes dim. But his presence was still immense, still suffocating, still wrong. "Elif Demir." His voice echoed through the chamber, thin and reedy but full of ancient malice. "I offered you a truce. I offered you peace. You refused."

It was a man, his skin gray and translucent, his robes tattered and stained with the black fluid of the deep archives. ​"High Surgeon Malek?" I whispered, the name tasting like poison. ​Malek, the man who had overseen my own transformation forty years ago, turned his head. His eyes were gone, replaced by two glowing silver orbs. He smiled, and the sound was like the grinding of tectonic plates. ​"Elara," he croaked. "You were always the most stubborn of my patients. You think your iron and your coal are shields? They are merely the dirt we allow you to play in until the master returns."

Malek’s scowl deepened into a furious glare, his tiny fists clenching so hard his knuckles turned stark white against the dark oak table. Gali hated imposing such severe emotional pressure on his frail child, but these hard realities of the werewolf world had to be forged into the boy's core. Malek was no ordinary child; he was the heir to Blackmoor Crescent Keep, and he understood every single word his father spoke, despite his refusal to speak. After a long, agonizing minute of pure, suffocating tension, Malek abruptly pushed his chair back, stood up, and marched straight toward his private sleeping quarters, slamming the heavy reinforced door shut behind him.

“He had never spared any of the others. All the girls before her… they perished, and you haven’t said anything necessary. Why is this she still breathing?” Arch Seer Malakh, the seer and keeper of forbidden knowledge in the kingdom of Murnokh. He had read threads of destinies and interpretated prophesies for the court. The veins flared brighter beneath Vythea’s bare feet as she stared at the third eye on Malakh’s forehead. “Something is wrong. She’s still alive,” she hissed. “Kaerith. I tried to kill her. I tried—she won’t die.” Malakh’s eyes were pale as his skeletal fingers traced symbols in the air, glowing faintly before fading.

“You think this is normal? All these paintings, these… things?” “I know it’s weird, but it’s all I have of you…” Because you treated me so badly! I want to scream at him. But looking at him, the great Lycan King Gideon Dunkerson, now reduced to this fucking mess. I want to spit on the floor, at him, at my previous self. “I missed you so bad,” he says. “Even when I thought I disliked you. Even when I thought you were dead.” I cross my arms. “You have a whole harem up there. You never missed a night with one of them when we’re together.”

He reached out and unbuttoned the two buttons of his shirt, his chest inside was enchantingly strong. “Boss, will this item be delivered to the warehouse?” His subordinates respectfully lowered their heads and waited for his orders. “Directly sent to my castle.” Ivan tilted his head, playing with the lighter in his hand. But there was absolutely no emotion in his eyes. The subordinates who have followed him for many years still feel that his master is an extremely cold person, he has never seen Ivan have a close relationship or a woman. All only gems and weapons befriend him.

As we pass the magical creatures, Jess looks at the Salynx in confusion. “A Salynx is a mix between a Sable and a Lynx; sometimes it’s more Lynx than Sable but it’s mostly Sable Lynx.”, I explained to her. Continuing walking until we could see Mr. Sapping; Mr. Sapping is a half-breed, dark elves; this can get mixed up with Svartálfar, which is black elves. Many people are wary of dark elves, but since he’s the only one who sells potions, the town isn’t too wary of him.

do you know where I'm going? -No ... you wouldn't find them- says the man with a broken voice. Azael laughs again. -Don't you know who I am? The man shakes his head. Azael takes a few seconds to respond. A malicious smile forms on his face before he does so. -I'm Azael Volkov. Dutson's son. I feel the man's face go completely pale. We all watch the scene in silence, no one dares to speak. - That mafia is dead ...- he says in just a whisper.

CHAPTER ONE ELIJAH’S POV The first shall be the last and the last shall be the first. My father loved that statement and I think I’m going to adopt it. Ten years. Ten solid years, we have been oppressed by the West Wing Pack. Their Alpha was a heartless man. He always sent his soldiers to come to our pack and abduct our young maidens so he could turn them into servants in his pack. Whenever he had a building project, he would order my father to provide laborers for him and my father had no choice but to obey him else a much more catastrophic fate will befall us.