Dark Elf Malekith Novels & Stories

Those kings deserved his wrath. Something snapped inside Malikul’s brain as he instantly nodded vehemently. “Right… I’d forgotten about your feud.” “How could you…” She hissed. “But look.” She took an empty piece of paper and drew something on it. Their eyes immediately fell on the paper. “According to my beloved brother, T-Vir desires The Unknown.” They swallowed and nodded. “However, according to my beloved Hyena brothers, Bulteo desire The Unknown and the Underworld.” Malikul then pondered for a moment. “Tell me. Do you see elves working with them?”

Trees flickered between lush green and skeletal silver, while the ground beneath the pack’s feet turned to a liquid-like mercury before snapping back to stone. From the swirling grey mists at the base of the central spire, a figure emerged. He did not look like a soldier of the Purity Initiative. He wore robes of tattered Aetherite that shimmered with a sickly, dying light. His skin was the color of old parchment, etched with glowing blue veins that pulsed in a frantic, irregular rhythm. This was Elder Malakor, the rogue High Priest of the Wyrd Council. He was a ghost of the old order, a man who had survived the destruction of the Symphony Conduit by folding himself into a pocket of "Negativ

Did she really want to join that badly! After Christopher finally was allowed to get dressed and grabbed Havoc's mask he stepped out of the bedroom. The twin Dark Elves were drilling holes through him with their gazes. ' Yea she definitely didn't believe me for a second.' Christopher had completely forgot how good the hearing is of a Dark Elf. Due to growing up in the darkness Both their eyes and hearing were beyond exceptional. They could damn near feel vibrations and had their own personal sonar system. ... "Well, Ahem... Shall we go?"

I forced my eyes open just a crack. Standing over me was a man clad in black leather and fur, his hair as dark as a raven’s wing. His eyes weren't the gold or blue of a normal wolf; they were a piercing, crystalline silver. This was no ordinary shifter. This was Malachi, the King of the South, the man the elders called the "Demon Alpha." He knelt beside me, his large hand hovering over my forehead. He didn't touch me, but the heat radiating from him made my skin prickle.

He glanced over at me and sighed. "Male dark elves are born with several tasks they must complete in order to be blessed and given admittance into the light elves realm to become mighty trees of the soul forest there. If we don't accomplish the tasks we go to the void for a brief interlude then are reborn once again with an entirely new list of life filled tasks," Nekane explained. I nodded my head in understanding.

it whispered, and the single word made Malachi drop to one knee. I turned toward him in disbelief and demanded that he get up, but Malachi remained frozen with his black eyes fixed on the darkness beneath the throne. The silver markings covering his body began glowing brighter, and I could feel an invisible force pulling at him as though something ancient had awakened the connection between them. “I cannot,” he whispered, his voice shaking with fear, “because he created me before he created the Devourer.”

High Sovereign Malakor turned to face them. He was draped in armor forged from dark sun-iron, his face pale and sunken, his eyes burning with an unnatural, vortex-black fire. In his right hand, he held a massive spear wrapped in tendrils of suffocating shadow. "Princess Kira, Alpha Cassian... and the forgotten Prince," Malakor purred, his voice layered with the raspy echoes of a hundred stolen souls. "You bring your petty armies to my doorstep, thinking you can restore a broken realm. You are nothing more than fuel for the core."

Every step he took scorched the ground, yet his focus was unwavering, tethered by the bond that connected him to Elara. Malakar’s shadowed form loomed in the distance, his dark magic twisting the air, summoning beasts of nightmare and fire. He raised his hands, and the ground itself seemed to writhe in response. “You think you’ve won, Dragon King?” he snarled. “I am eternal! You cannot destroy me!”

If you're sticking around, make yourself useful. A low chuckle rumbled from him. ************** Miles away Deep within the castle's underbelly, where torchlight dared not reach, Elder Malthus moved like a wraith through forgotten corridors. His robes whispered against the damp stone, the weight of secrets pressing on his frail shoulders. The meeting with Kael and Elian had been a triumph—the boy's scent, that divine nectar laced with ancient power, had bloomed fully in his presence. It sang to him, promising dominion over realms long denied.

The Rogue Alpha, the Warlord, Dalhkan King of the Rogue…how the epithets pile up, no one knew his true name, because throughout the entire pack, one name stood above all, we called him…The Butcher. He was also rumored to have possessed dark magic that revealed his enemy’s thoughts. I didn’t want to find out how true that was. We finally set down after hours of travel, after my hours of crying in silence, and I was blown away by the sheer size of the place. It was their campsite, where they stayed and waged war, a site that once belonged to another before them. ‘You are not going to die, Sybil.’ ‘Think about your sister!’ I chided myself when the thought of death and fear and failure shot its