Fleur Goblet Of Fire Novels & Stories

he says. Silas picks up an old copper goblet with carvings of a crown guarded by a lycan and a wolf, surrounded by strange symbols. There is something that looks like a little piece of cloth inside the goblet. He drops in a lighted match and sets the cloth on fire. Then he hands Caspian a very old looking dagger that has carvings of strange symbols along the blade. The handle is embedded with a brilliant red ruby surrounded by gleaming emeralds.

Camela’s eyes widened as it moved closer to her lips. “No…” she whispered, shaking her head. “No…” Vincent's voice cracked as he called out to her, “Camela!” Her body shook as the syrup touched her mouth—sweet, heavy, and clinging. She parted her lips— And then the chamber trembled violently. The goblet shattered in the servant’s hand, sending shards flying everywhere. The red-tied man turned sharply and exclaimed, “What…” Suddenly, the torches ignited into blue flames, cracks appeared in the walls, and the water inside the tank began to boil.

Her violet eyes locked on my neck, and I froze as her fingers brushed lightly against my skin, tilting my head to the side. Surprise rippled through the group. I didn’t need a mirror to know what they were seeing. The mark still pulsed faintly, warm and tingling where Dane’s canines had sunk into me. A lotus flower, crafted entirely from flames, unfurled at the curve of my neck. It was a stunning symbol of strength. “Goddess,” Gambit breathed, awestruck. “It’s absolutely beautiful.” I swallowed hard, glancing at Dane. He stood unflinching under their scrutiny, though I could feel through the bond that his chest was tight, uneasy with nerves.

I put my hair in a high ponytail and with my phone in my left hand, I leave the room. The Grand Hearth is carved into the mountainside, its walls glimmering with crystal veins and moss that glows blue in the dark. Firelight dances across the high arches as the Elders file in, their robes trailing shadows behind them. At the center of the circle is the Flame Chalice. It is a bowl forged from volcanic glass and draconic scales, pulsing faintly with molten light. It radiates a warmth that tugs at the pit of my stomach. Elder Zyn holds out a curved blade, ancient and silver-edged. “Do you accept the rite, Rhea of the Fae blood?”

Noticing the parcel lying on the sofa, it stuck her, "let me check what's inside." Curiously opened and found a red tulip flower bouquet. "Woah, flowers!" Licked her lips while brushing her nape, "this seems familiar." She stressed as Rudra came to her mind. "Was this his doing?" Bit her lips, she found a blue color custom made gown falling gracefully to the ground. She screamed, "it's marvelous!" Walked in front of the mirror, placed it on herself, she gaped, "Oh my... this fits my curves perfectly." Twirled around as it gave a great feeling to her and she relished the moment.

In the depths of the Moonspire Archives, Elizabeth followed Saelith into a sealed chamber. It hadn’t been opened in over a thousand years, not since the Age of Binding. The door hissed as it opened, revealing walls etched with glowing script. At its center sat a stone dais, upon which burned a flickering violet flame. Saelith bowed her head. “This is the Flame of Memory. Only those chosen by prophecy may touch it.” Elizabeth stepped forward, hand trembling only slightly. She reached into the fire.

And in her hands, she held a silver goblet, twirling it between her fingers as though it was a trophy. “Fiery little bitch, good morning” she sneered, grinning as her fangs came into view. She slowly circled me, making my skin crawl in disgust. “A little birdy told me you've been such a good pet to your master” she purred. The silver goblet in her hand slightly slipped, the thick red liquid inside almost spilling. I frowned, the scent of the liquid filling the air. It was wine, but laced with something else…..poison, maybe wormroot and maybe ashroot too.

Now, only power spoke. Gloria knelt first, laying a talon-shaped blade across her knees. Its hilt was carved from bone that pulsed faintly in the darkness, like a heartbeat echoing through the ground. The air grew colder around her, coiling like serpents, and her lips moved without sound. The frost crawling along her skin wasn’t entirely natural; it was the blade calling to her, the spirits whispering their obedience.

He was holding her back from running to Polaris, who was lifted into Mayavi’s hands. There was a huge goblet with strange carvings on it. The carvings looked like the letters of the book Zahir had in his hand all the time during our journey. Flames like that of lava were erupting from the goblet. Maybe that was the ritual or sacrifice. I assumed Mayavi was going to throw Polaris in the goblet. My nails expanded into claws, sharp, long and pointed. I lunged at Mayavi, taking away Polaris from her hands, slashing her face and slamming her on the ground with a kick in her guts.

Unholy Fire Glove. Continued