Dragonborn Characters Novels & Stories

"I'm back." I look up to see West approaching my desk. He's an impure like me. People like us are regarded as the abominations of the society. He's a mage who has the blood of an undead flowing in his veins. On the other hand, I'm a dragon shifter with demon blood running through my veins. "She's safe and sound, Dash. Now, tell me what that was about." "Fine." .... "I can't believe we're doing this" I mutter. West chuckles and nudges me.

Horace leaned in, then roared, "Why is he blue? My son can't be blue!" Silence gripped the crowd. Everyone exchanged glances, no one daring to speak. Dragon royals were born red. It was an ancient rule. Other colors existed among common dragons, but never royalty. A blue dragon, born to the prince's concubine, screamed one thing. She had betrayed him. The crowd's stares burned, and Horace's rage boiled over. He lifted the child and smashed it to the ground, killing it instantly. The gruesome scene made me shudder.

Cayd asks. “What do you know of it,” the man in front of him growls. “Perhaps we can sit down and talk. There’s a lot for us to discuss,” I say. “Come on, Orsid. Let’s talk to them. Three of them are dragons, one is related to Ronnon. Perhaps these two are related to our clan members, also. The wolf is obviously protecting his mate. He hasn’t shown any aggression at all. I’m Toddre. That’s Orsid, as I said, and that’s Norrin. He’s also a Drache. The other two are Ddraigs, as you might have guessed,” the man in front of me says.

Dragon sat with Jenny and her triplets around a small fire, its flames dancing gently and casting shifting shadows across their faces. Jerry sat beside Jackson, with Jakiri next to them. Towering over them, Dragon, with his fiery red eyes and commanding presence, exuded an aura that kept everyone on edge. Finally, there was Jenny. Jerry looked up at Dragon with a curious smile and asked, “You’ve told us a lot about werewolf customs, but there’s one question that has always fascinated me. What’s the story of the mate? And how does a werewolf find their destined partner?”

Witch. It was how my brain processed new information and stored it when I assessed someone new for the first time. I could accurately guess height and weight and everything I learned about the person would be stored there. Malachi was looking oddly at me. Malachi Sinclair. Six foot four inches. Two hundred and seventy pounds. Dark brown hair. Gray eyes. Wolf. I turned my head when a chair scraped along the floor. Kiran Sinclair. Six foot four and a half inches. Two hundred and eighty pounds. Black hair. Blue eyes. Married to Adara Sinclair. Wolf and witch. Alpha. He was half an inch taller than Malachi but his aura seemed stronger.

Lyle put an arm around her to steady her, but I noticed his eyes came flickering back to me. A drow is a type of dark elf that are known for their otherworldly abilities. They are said to have a connection with the underworld. A regular elf connects with life and mother nature, while a drow connects with death and darkness. Two different sides of the spectrum.However, a drangel is something even more rare. They are winged elves that were greatly reduced in number due to conflicts with the dragons years ago. They are serious-minded and considered ruthless. I remember when I was reading a book, I confused them with fairies, but my mother told me they were nothing like fairies.

“But she is a hybrid and you are a pure dragon. Are you lying to me, dragon?” “She can’t lie to you. Geez, do neither of you know anything about dragons?” Nylion asks. “Kenna is arguable the third strongest dragon currently alive, second only to Ancalagon and Eliane, and both of them have access to all four elements,” Kenzo says, coming to my defense. I’m surprised that Faeler doesn’t tell him to shut up, but apparently both men are interested in taking out Kenna and therefore, Yhendorn. I’ve known Yhendorn my entire life. He’s a good man, a good king from what I’ve been able to tell, and he’s been a perfect mate to Kenna. I’m not surprised that she’s pregnant.

He was a beloved prince stolen from his home and parents. A silver dragonborn stepped forward, “I am Falx. I am not a god or demigod, though I am of the lineage of Bahamut. This is my humanoid form. I have been the main protector of this body while it has been maltreated.” Sad eyes met my determined ones. I then looked around at the others. The wolf stepped forward and I stepped back with a knowing smile, “Lucius, it is a pleasure to see you. I never knew you would ever take a vassal.”

Where do I even start? "I'm not just a werewolf," I begin. "I'm Dragonborn. Hybrid of dragon and wolf, born in an age when dragons ruled the skies and magic flowed like water. That was 1,200 years ago, before humans even knew our kind existed." "Impossible," Neon says. "Nothing lives that long." "Dragons do. And those bonded to them." I pat Silverclaw's scales affectionately. "When a dragon chooses a mate, their bond extends life far beyond normal limits. Silverclaw chose me when I was barely twenty. I've been alive ever since."

Characters: Bryson – Alpha of the Thunderstorm Pack (22 years old) Dante and Talon – Youngest two of the dragon triplets and sons of Rhys and Aaron (21 years old) Third Person POV “Look how the mighty have fallen,” the dragon brothers sneered, their tone dripping with sarcasm and irony as Dante and Talon hovered over the bloodied figure of the Great Commander of the Secret Forces. The battlefield reeked of ash, torn leather and the metallic sting of death. And at the center of it, half-submerged in his own blood, lay Bryson — Alpha, legend, war-born heir of the Thunderstorm Pack.