Famous Warlock Names Novels & Stories

While Eric and Tate just looked at me like they normally did. “How do you not know what a warlock is?” Ryan asked. “A warlock is a male witch. They are distrustful and they are only out for their own gains. Never trust a warlock to do anything for you because they will turn on you in a heartbeat.” Tate answered before I got the chance to respond to Ryan.

After careful questioning about the current situation in the area, Christine and her Uncle Liam made their way to the temple in Dragon Claw City. Heirs to the Dragon Claw Warlocks have always been rare, with no more than three siblings in a generation. Christine's grandfather had two sons, the eldest Alexander and the second Liam, of whom only Christine's father Alexander awakened the Dragon Vein Warlock bloodline. Liam did not awaken, but he did have the Dragon Vein, so he easily understood the fighting spirit and became a knight.

And they told me I wouldn’t have been able to see anything but the motion of Nate’s hand when he knocked Drew out unless I had something they called “magic sight.” They seemed to disagree about nearly everything, so their identical looks of disgruntlement when I started to laugh my ass off made me laugh even more, bordering on hysteria. Because what the fuck did you say to that? “That’s—I can’t—magic? Me?” I choked out. “I’m human, I’m—” “I’m human too!” Nate protested. “Warlocks always are. Werewolves and the like have their own names for anyone who can use magic as a craft, and not just innately.”

I must have been gaping for God knows how long, because he suddenly cleared his throat, snapping me out of my "trance" "Did you even hear a word of what I said?" He dramatically sighed and face palmed. I stood up from my crouching position and blinked twice, getting into my fighting stance. He merely turned his back to me, clicking his tongue in disapproval. "My name is Okiro. A warlock of the five white clans of Duna. An endangered specie and the one of the last of my kind... thanks to your father's good work." What the fuck now? I'm pretty sure my eyes were as big as saucers now.

To cite words and make a particular thing happen had been Hawk’s forte. Warlord’s jaw was ticking, and he was in such a foul mood that men and women alike skittered from his path. Thus, he was astounded when one young mage stepped into his path in the lowest hall of the castle, on the way to the foyer. A strong, redheaded young man, whom rarely spoke. Warlord knew his face. Recalled what his name was. It’d been the knights here that named him. Even when very young, he’d put such a fight with the knights on enough occasions, they’d dubbed him Rampage.

“You should head back to the room and start packing a bag for a few days, pack light clothes and don’t worry about any accessories. Warlocks are a lavish people, but they despise when it looks like others are trying to be more flamboyant than them.” “What kind of creatures are Warlocks?” “They’re Elves.” ‘Oh, dear gods.’

He turned to me with a rare vulnerability etched across his stony face. "Linda, everyone I cared for has been lost to the ravages of time and war. But this—this fight—is to ensure that no one else suffers the same losses." His voice hardened with resolve. "Let's prepare; your vision is a sign we cannot ignore." We moved quickly then, the urgency of my vision propelling us forward. Every second counted—a fact Marcellus knew all too well. He began to chant in an ancient tongue, fingers drawing intricate symbols in the air, weaving a spell that would take us to where we were most needed. To my astonishment, not only was Marcellus a werewolf and seer, but he was also a warlock, similar to my own

"He doesn't want you to be locked away, he just wants you to be protected. That is all. Once we know who we can trust, it will be easier." "The man in that photo?" I asked and he sighed. "He is a warlock," he said. "He is one of the King of Witches and Warlocks Advisors. We are looking into it." I nodded as the smell of strawberries and watermelons filled my senses. Hela whimpered. "Mate." Came a deep voice startling both of us. Alpha Grant Doyle's POV

Rise" whispered to them after I was done. The wind died down till not a sound was made. Then they all slowly stood and faced me, every wolf in all directions around me. They all rose with my command ringing in their ears, beating in their hearts, and they all got ready We might have to prepare for a war with the most dangerous deadly types of wolves all across all three worlds. We might have to protect the world against Hades and his demon wolves.

My face remained emotionless because I didn’t want them to enjoy my discomfort. A man approached, less than twenty years old with a funny smile on his lips. He was more than two feet taller than me, and he was not thin but had tough muscles. Looking at his cat-eye pupils I knew he was a warlock and a very powerful one because the others around us stop talking and waited for him to speak.