Firebreather Duncan Novels & Stories

- Hannah asks. - It seems so. – he says, opening his mouth in sleep. - Why are you answering like that? Hell, he's your fireheart, you should be excited, happy, filling on top of the world. - Dalkor says, clinging to Valdar, to prove his indignation at his lack of affection for his fireheart. - That's easy for you to say. Your fireheart is a dragon like you. Mine is a mutt. - Don't say those things, you know that our fire doesn't always choose someone of the same species. – Valdar says, with a smile.

Only when he can’t see my face. --- Hope is my favorite leash. It doesn’t tighten. It glows. It doesn’t bruise. It burns. And Duncan? He’s glowing. He’s burning. And he still thinks he’s the one holding the match.

“That’s because I have.” Antonio rubbed the back of his neck. “You’d better hope you’re right. Because if you’re wrong—” “I’m never wrong.” Duncan stepped forward, his boots crunching against the fallen leaves. “And soon, Phoebe will understand that, too.” Antonio exhaled heavily, glancing back toward the path they had taken. “You’re playing with fire.” Duncan grinned. “Good thing I don’t mind the heat.” With that, he turned back toward the packhouse, watching, waiting.

As I moved closer to mine and my mum's dilapidated bungalow, I noticed something; dark fumes with wildfire. Without thinking, I sprinted forward and was dumfounded and shocked to see my last resort burning away while some onlookers watched, and others poured water into the fire. “No!” I screamed, falling to my knees. “This can't be happening. Where do I go from here?” One of the onlookers, Mrs Duncan, who also happened to be a neighbor knelt in front of me, and embraced me wordlessly. “I heard about your mother, my dear. I'm so sorry for your loss. Please take heart.” She said, but I was hysterical and tried to free myself from her hold.

"Captain! Explain yourself!" The captain swallowed hard, visibly trembling under Duncan's fierce gaze. "A-Alpha, we are still investigating how the attacker breached our defenses. It seems to have been a ghoul—" "A ghoul?" Duncan roared, his fist slamming into the nearby wall with such force that it left a visible dent. The sound echoed through the hallway, causing everyone to jump. "Are we so weak now that the undead feel bold enough to walk our lands?" Luna Grace stepped forward, trying to calm her son. "Duncan, please—"

“You’re doing wonderfully, Seren. You’ve taken right to it. The concept for reaching your fire and earth elements is the same, but it may be prudent to wait for your father to return to train with those.” The scent of wood-smoke and peat carried on the breeze as Gideon walked around the corner of the pack house, heading in our direction. “Alpha Aidan said you’d be back here,” he said as he approached us. He paused, looking at Duncan. “What happened to you?” “Your sister,” Duncan answered dryly. “I surprised her when I entered the training grounds, and she slammed me with a water missile.” Gideon’s laughter burst out of him. “I’d have paid to see that.”

Duncan wanted to see me falter, to confirm I was as broken as the ruins around us. “Leave my land,” I said firmly. “Or you’ll find out just how much fight I have left.” Duncan studied me for a long moment, lips curling in that smug half-smile of his. Then he stepped back, lifting his hands in mock surrender. “For now, Daemon. But don’t mistake my patience for mercy.” His wolves emerged from the shadows, falling in behind him as he turned away. Only when his footsteps faded did I let out the breath I’d been holding.

When a strong gust blew past, some of the smaller candles that weren't secured to the ground toppled over and rolled away. Shane was still oblivious to the mounting crisis unfolding before him. Wanting to support Valerie, he cheered and applauded her, shouting, "Look at the blazing fire, Mr. Paulson! Look at how the flames are reaching toward the sky! I'm sure that your ancestors will be able to feel your sincerity!"

Sarah's injuries and bleeding immediately dispelled his doubts. Once the scent of Sarah's blood reached the king's nostrils, Beta Waylen heard the king's beast go berserk. After sending Sarah off to join the other girls in the ballroom, he ran to the garden to find the king leaning against a tree. And he appeared to be having difficulty breathing. "Your Highness," Beta Waylen called after reaching him. "She... Who's she? What is she…?" The king panted as he struggled to understand why his beast was going out of control. His beast has been trying to take control of him since they smelled her blood. But the king didn't let that happen.

Then she opened it to the page bearing her great-uncle’s final incantation: “In the hour when flame falls hollow, let truth’s spark burn bright forsake illusion, embrace the light.” She chanted the words softly in Latin as Alexander sprinkled the amber dust into the brazier. At first, nothing happened. Then, just as the last syllable left her lips, a single spark leapt from the sketchbook’s spine and landed amid the dust. It flared into a slender column of flame white and pure—illuminating every shadow in the crypt. Isabelle’s heart soared as the hollow flame filled with substance. The brazier flamed steadily, its light radiating warmth and clarity. In that instant, the specter that had haun