Embers Of War Book Novels & Stories

There was a kind of respect in the way he let the question dangle. My father nodded once, a crisp downward dip of the chin. “For now.” Another pause, its duration just long enough to reestablish the hierarchy. Then he leaned back slightly, a posture less of relaxation than of disengagement. “There is a difference,” he continued, “between a war that begins by accident….” His gaze found Alexander again. “…and one that begins by design.” The implication hung between us. Someone wanted this war. It was no longer just a matter of pride or territory or even Gabriel; it was a matter of design, and my father intended to be its architect, not its victim.

Raven’s point of view. I was tied up in a dark room, with my hands and legs tried, and a gag put in my mouth. I scanned the room and saw four other girls like me, with our body covered with thin, transparent fabric. I gritted my teeth as I thought of how to free myself from the alpha of Blood Moon’s pack, but just then I heard footsteps approaching the room. “We must do as he says, if we ever want to end this war and get back our soldiers that he is holding captive.” A voice said.

"The supreme Lord of the Temple of War, with four Four Dukes of War, nine Barons of War, and 108 War Generals under your command. Your strength is overwhelming. Am I not right?" "Yes," Alexander replied with a smile, nodding gently. The composition of the high-ranking members of the Temple of War was not a secret within the country. What remained truly confidential were the detailed information about each member, including their age, appearance, background, and personal abilities. Except for the Wyverna's royalty, even the other major military factions in the country had only a vague understanding, unable to dig into their detailed profiles. "Since you're from the Temple of War, you must've

That those things don’t happen anymore. And yet every time there was a festival at the capital, there were always casualties. “I don’t know much about the war,” I say. “I only know bits and pieces.” Yohan flips another page, “This sort of book was banned even for Alphas.” “Can I read it?” Yohan didn’t give me the book.

It’s almost like she just copied the book. About an hour into it, Ben found the notes telling which war happened where. I had Ben read out to me while I wrote down W1, W2, etc. next to each ‘X’. That’s when I saw it. War 1 was located in what is now known as Russia. War 2 was located in now known as Canada. War 3 was located in now known Mexico. War 4 was located in now known Mid-West USA. “Hey look at this.” I called out to Ben who was sitting on the other side of the table from me.

said Mithraos. And thus, two nobles each from the empires sat down and made the rules of the war. It was a process that was not heard of ever before. The other Kingdoms were also keenly observing the happenings. The war was not going to be pretty and it is a good thing that both kings thought of their people first and blood thirst later.

Still, I gulped hard and trudged forward, walking down the steps and towards wherever the light was headed. Buck was right at the end waiting for me, those eyes still filled with disdain which he rolled as soon as he caught a glimpse, “Follow me.” I nodded, tagging alongside him as we walked into a chamber filled with other males. They were the pack members, their voices filled the room from jesting to arguments. The noise had died down immediately as my head hung low, my cowardly self unable to bear their eyes focusing on me as we walked towards the path that led outside.

She rose, her gaze fixed on the horizon where the city’s fires shimmered like a thousand crimson eyes. Below, Valenfort prepared for yet another war where humans, vampires, and everything in between would soon redefine what it meant to call something peace.

Roman POV I got an urgent mind link from my warriors to get to my brother Reign’s home, my pulse hammering in my chest as I raced there. I contacted by mind link my oldest brother, Hamza, and a few trusted warriors to meet me there. Calling on my wolf, I pushed through the terrain as fast as I could, grabbing only a t-shirt and joggers, which I tied around my neck to change into later. Every second mattered. Every second was a chance to prevent more suffering.

Erriene said in that soft but firm voice of his that always made Alarick’s crotch give a twitch. Kill him, a mocking voice said in his head, He disrespected you. He took the sword and dragged his finger on the carvings. It was Maudinian. ‘Dir ylemi er zi nie rata cogadh anns treubh.’ (There is no war in the tribe.) A quote from a frost giant’s legend, about a great frost giant warlord and his weaknesses, his people, his family and his enemies. There was one special sword for each one of them.