Elven Last Names Novels & Stories

Haha. Maybe I should go into the bond? What weaving my bond will do? It’s mostly conjecture at this point. I did root around in a few different covens with Lor. Her family is pretty well known. Usually, they only give the firstborn that last name of Cyprus. She was a twin, though. So they gave her and her sister the last name.

With a light sigh, she replied with, “not bad, though if I have to tell people one more time; not to call me an elf, I will go crazy!” Fenryn offered a small smile, “unfortunately, you will find very few know any better. From what I understand, it was those born in human lands that gave themselves that name; but who knows?” He said softly. He paused his conversation as several men and women entered the room with a bounty of various foods. Once they excused themselves, Fenryn continued, “I only know as much as I do, because I had the pleasure to have access to my ancestor's records, as well as meeting a small clan once before.” Lynnette gave another sigh, as she nodded. “I can imagine that yo

Then she spoke, her voice softening. “My name is Elira Vaelthorn. And you’re right—I am no merchant. I am an elf of Sylvaen.” Kaelen blinked. The name stirred faint memories of stories whispered in the tavern, tales of an unseen city hidden deep in the forests, where elves lived beyond the reach of men. “Then why are you here?” he asked. Elira lowered herself against a tree trunk, pressing a hand to her wound. Her silver hair spilled across her shoulders like liquid moonlight. She looked less like a traveler and more like a fallen star.

I opened it. The pages were not paper, but a thin, flexible vellum. The script was elegant and flowing, a language I had never seen but understood instinctively. It was a history. A record of the Weaver line. And on the first page was a family tree, the names glowing as my eyes passed over them. My mother’s name was there. My grandmother’s. And mine. Elara Vance. The last entry. But my eyes were drawn to a line above my mother’s. A name that was struck through with a single, violent slash of dark ink, yet still pulsed with a malevolent energy: Morvana.

So, it surprises me when I see a familiar face, “Geri?” “Mazelina. It’s been a while.” He says smoothly, just as arrogant as ever. Landon and I would tease him relentlessly for his name. He and his family were all named after Viking wolves centuries ago. Apparently, wolf shifters would carry vampire names back in his day. I’m glad that tradition got lost over the years. “Where’s my daughter?” “You two know each other?” Elion cuts in. “Not now Elion. I want to know, Where. Is. My. Daughter?”

He spoke only one word. “Elara.” The name, barely breathed, shivered across the glade. And in the hush that followed, wolves stirred. They emerged not as beasts, but as memories made flesh—silver-eyed, their coats dusted with ash and ember, the fur along their spines marked with sigils that glowed faintly as prophecy passed through them. These were the Lastbloods—the final sentinels of the old wolfblood line. Once, they had served Elara herself, answering not to crown or creed but to a deeper bond: memory, song, and the hope that stories might outlast the telling.

Byron went to kitchen to get some water before continuing his story. "I was born to a family in the east point or Faklan, my name was baron which means young warrior. At that time I was yet to receive my elf name..." Elf name!! Did her father just say he was an elf. "So...what was your elf name.." Madeline asked as she took large gulps of water. "Albericus..." Byron said slowly, he was the elf ruler of the high elves, he was the pride and joy of his people, it saddened him that he couldn't protect his people or his wife.

I ask. “Yes, my sister Leana is mated to a vampire King and sits on the supernatural council. Her best friend Lily is mated to the Elf King and also sits on the council. I also have two brothers who are not mated to Guardians. Xander is mated to a powerful witch, Meadow’s older sister, and Cayden is mated to ... well, she’s descended from dragons.” “Elves are real? Dragons are real?” I ask, frowning. She turns and frowns at me. “Dragons died out long ago, but their blood has been passed down for generations. How do you not know about the elves though?”

All told he was a mess of an ancient elf, dumped on the midden after the Council had used him for years. “You old charmer,” Horann had smiled at the elf. “What are you called?” “Jenaris,”the old elf had said. “Your name?” “Sentara,” Horann lied with ease. There was no need for the Council to know they had visited the place and the scholars and tutors they had been assigned to would have been disappointed at best, downright angry at worst. “Sentara,” the old man repeated. “A beautiful name for a beautiful elf. I have to admit, your looks are unique, especially your eyes,” Jenaris had said.

"Tell me human, who are you and how did you get here?" Ron, who was still pondering over the identity of this spirit Elf, gasped. He finally got it! The Royal Family!!! Zedekiel, Ludiciel, Mariel, Tariel, Sariel, Their names all sounded alike. He remembered that he had once read in a book that the Elfin Royal Family have a tradition of naming their children after dead members of the Royal Family so that they will always be remembered.