Fantasy White Dragon Novels & Stories

I watch as the huge white dragon flies up into the air. “I’ve got the green one!” Truda yells, shooting her harpoon. I hear the scream of a dragon, but I can’t look. At that moment, the big beautiful dragon lifts up into the sky, screaming her rage. She and the big white one begin blowing air against us, pushing the other dragons back as the wolves go after the elves. They take off running, the cowards, but I hold steady, aiming for the beautiful dragon. I don’t want to kill her, I want to claim her.

“No. Beyond your white fur, you have no signs or DNA of albinism. The code for pure white fur is polygenetic. Multiple alleles are responsible for the expression of white fur. The probability that the exact combination for the trait is present is extremely low.” “So, a genetic fluke.” “All cultures have a prophecy about a white wolf. They are all similar.” My destiny was being dictated to me by a history of superstitions. “Why me?” “That is a great question.” Doc looked at me like he was going to give me an A. “You and Ghost are more connected beyond the mating bond. I will venture to guess Ghost, Cyrus, Magnus, and Rhett come from a strong lineage connected to the original shifter. You all

"She's a Witch!" The moment the gem slipped from my grasp, a sudden void consumed me, the magic dissipating with my relinquished hold. Stepping back from the booth, a profound stillness cloaked me as I observed the crowd converging. Panic etched itself onto the faces of men, women, and children alike. The murmurs of discontent swelled into an angry chorus, echoing through the air. In the distance, the clamor of approaching soldiers added urgency to the unfolding scene. A ripple of anxiety coursed through me as I trembled, gazing one final time at the old woman. "You glowed," she whispered. A mirror hung on a twisted post, and my reflection revealed tendrils of cerulean sparks dancing on my i

he responds. I'm thrilled he can hear me. It must be his magic, though I'm sad at his answer. To have this ability and not use it would cause too much suffering for me. I must think positive thoughts while around him, so I start asking questions while we swoop through the sky. "Tell me the colors of the other dragons." "Goddess have mercy," he growls. "Bastian is red, Laryn blue, and Tahr silver." I'm on a roll. "Do you ever fly together?"

I muttered. As the news spread throughout the dragon clan, whispers and murmurs filled the air. Some were in awe of Drogo's unexpected allegiance to Freya, while others expressed doubt and skepticism. Questions swirled in my mind, and I knew I needed to confront Drogo and seek answers. She was the only one who could give me a comforting answer filled with nothing but the Truth. Dragons aren't just flying beings, they are magical creatures who foresee the future and they never lie. They would always stand on the truth.

"Everyone knows the Rivera girl is a rare white wolf. Her pups will be top-tier Alphas, every single one. Whoever mates her becomes the future Alpha King." "And look at her—the Moon Goddess must've carved her by hand." "A wolf like that, blood like that, Is Damian insane?" "Poor Rivera girl. Her own mate doesn't even want her." The whispers circled. Everyone was certain I'd name Damian—they'd all seen how badly I'd fallen for him. In my last life, I worshiped Damian as my savior. White wolves are rare, which means my life was never peaceful. I got snatched by rogues once.

Bones popping and elongating as his skin started to take on that luminescent glow that reminded me of an opal. Where once a man had stood, a great dragon now crouched in his place. It lifted its shoulders, its eyes slowly opening. Faint amethyst orbs peered at me. I pulled my shirt off, watching as he ran towards the edge of the cliff. Throwing his great body over the side before his wings started to beat, catching the wind, he soared down. I tossed my clothing onto the ground, my dragon was ready and my shift was quick. Soon, I was joining my mate. The moon peeked out to join us in our playful flight.

“The route with crystals is uncharged faerie magic.” Thinking back to their conversations, he thought aloud. “You said no magic can be used here.” Remembering Brandon’s insistence help him down, what he thought at that time a dark abyss. Flashing a mesmerizing smile and entrancing wink. “That was partly a strategy to get you to ride me.” His body is definitely not in sync with his rational mind, frustrated his body gave up the fight. Extremely grateful his dragon maintained his distance and he tried to deal with the restricting emotions. “Kiowa is technically a pure natural sprite dragon like the elementalist wolf before you.”

“Their membership was revoked and they were kicked out. I believe the white witch was enraged that day.” “Did you just say white witch?” Dylan checked. “Yes, that is how the owner is referred to.” “Are you talking about a real witch or something?” “To be honest, I don't know, but what I noticed was that she only wore white clothes and had white hair.” “Is she really that old?” “She appears to be very young; no one knows anything about her. She's a mystery, but she's also the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.” He couldn't believe such a thing existed, but whatever it was, it wouldn't hurt to see for himself.

The bare-branched trees won’t serve as a proper cover for anything and then I look up in the sky… My breath hitches when I see the white dragon, An arctic dragon, ethereal and lithe as it flies not too high up. Its shadow covers me momentarily. I stand there mesmerised as I watch it fly for some time with a strangely thudding heart. The afternoon rays of the sun reflect on its snowy white form, making the greyish-white wings look veiny and almost translucent and making it look more majestic. An arctic dragon is as rare as a basilisk. I feel my heart lodge in my throat when the beast slightly tilts its head, its beady black eyes meet mine. Its gaze narrows slightly before it veers and begins