Eternally Regressing Knight Webnovel Novels & Stories

CHAPTER-18. THE GUARANTE JACKSON wanted to lie to himself. He wanted so badly to stop believing his sight. However, his heart and mind that were usually always positive for some reason have changed drastically, turning negative. Jackson landed his butt on the sofa. Netranya watched as the blanket that was supposed to cover Beverly and Dimitry's bodies slid from its place. Now what appeared in front of him was Beverly's flawless skin that clung to Dimitry's skin. I don't know what they were dreaming of, Jackson could clearly guess that their dream was so beautiful that they didn't notice it.

“Three hundred and seventy-eight knights …” King Terrowin’s voice echoed around the dark throne room, then silence followed; a dead, cold silence. He stood from his blue crystal-made seat and then climbed down the wide steps. “One grand knight …” the king continued. Kael was in front, kneeling, with his head looking down on the blue floor. He had just returned from their huge loss after their encounter with the Forgotten Winter. And being alone with the Cold King made his heartbeat race, as if chased by death itself.

Emrys spoke, tossing the black dry erase marker cap behind his back and began to write in his classic cursive handwriting; Atticus had let some of his appearance show as silver kissed the grey, Cassandra purring every time he looked our way. “Even about the Northern Whispers?” I asked with a raised brow although everyone knew it was more of a sentence then an actual question. With a sigh, he nodded and split the huge white board into two sections; titling one section ‘NW’ and the other ‘What We Know’ before turning back and watching as we began thinking. “For starters,” I spoke, standing from my position and walking to board, grabbed a marker and began to write what I spoke. “We know that Al

The sister of Finnegan, the half-brother to Mathias, and both are the son of the now dead Orion; Killed by Mathias’s own hands in the battle for Riocht. I’m the old man of the group and no matter how much they value me, I will never be a part of them, Knight of the queen or not. I am the expendable one, the one that shouldn’t be here, and the one that shouldn’t be alive. By all accounts, I should have died 13 years ago. A question I always ask myself, every time my eyes open, is why am I still alive? Why did the gods let that old priestess find me all those years ago and bring me back from the dead? Why did they allow me to live?

He was already looking at her. *The Forgotten King.* Valkyrie's old book had said he'd been erased from history. Now... Now her grandmother was saying exactly the same thing. "He wanted eternity." She continued, "When the moon refused him, he tried to take it by force, the price was his soul, our ancestors sealed him away. Not forever but until another Grey was born." The paper shook in Zara's hands. "No..." She didn't want to read it anymore, she already knew where this was going.

Enough to keep her mother safe, to keep them both alive, and if possible happy, and provided with the most basic necessities. Even though, it seemed to be risky. It truly seemed that she didn’t have a choice. Slowly, she exhaled. “Fine,” she said quietly. “I’ll, I’ll try it.” Neither of them knew that a single decision would change Aria’s life forever. Because somewhere across the city, Roman Knight, the most powerful man in the capital, was about to walk into Sapphire Club.

I opened it to the last page, the one he’d been reading. The First Mother does not want a Queen to rule. She wants a body to inhabit. When the moon turns purple and the child is born of two worlds, the transition begins. My breath hitched. "Born of two worlds... like our son." "He’s a Knight and a Rogue," Killian said, his voice grim. "The prophecy isn't about Thorne or the old kingdom. It’s about us." I looked at the date on the entry. It was written only days before my father was executed. He knew.

Alexander caught her . “What did it say?” She didn’t answer at first. Then, quietly: “It’s a choice. One or the other. I can’t have both.” He stared at her, jaw clenched. “Then we change the ending.” But the ending had already begun. In the shadows beyond the vault, someone was watching them. Not a ghost, not a keeper. But a man with a sigil burned into his wrist—the Broken Flame, long thought dead. A rogue faction of the old society.

Not a mark on me. I sat there for hours, staring at the horizon — a wasteland of melted earth and twisted steel. The sun rose again, as if mocking me for surviving what should have ended everything. My reflection in the glass wasn’t human anymore; my eyes had changed. There was something eternal behind them — not divine, not demonic — just… unending. That was the day I knew for certain — I would never die. And whatever task that voice promised me… it was gone. Centuries passed. I kept living, losing, searching.

“But . . . you are . . . a Black Knight . . .” “Yes, Majesty. And my vow has always been to protect the realm. I am doing so. I have been shown the truth that Dark Magic is the true magic, and that the Alva’himar will bring order to Edon.” Emerik frowned, struggling to speak. “Your . . . tale. Your . . . time with . . . the Minotaurs. A lie?”