Romans & histoires Game Of Thrones Fire And Blood

I never believed him. One night, I crept into her chamber. The walls were stained. The floor reeked of burnt roses and iron. That was when I knew—he’d sacrificed her too. To something darker. Older. I was just too young to stop it then. One day, I wandered where I shouldn’t have. The lower vaults. Deep beneath the castle. Locked behind iron and spell. And there, I found it. The Fire Altar. A relic from the Old Blood. A source of raw, ancient flame, forbidden to all but the gods themselves.

Dragon and vampire, fire and shadow, hunger reflected in gold and crimson. I wiped the blood from my mouth with the back of my hand, a smirk twisting despite the rage. Let them all see. If they wanted to take her, they’d drown in the blood price first. They went down one by one. Caelum’s snarls carried over from the far side of the arena, Elias’s fire popped in sharp bursts, but Nora. I lost her flame in the smoke. Panic cut through clearer than any blade. I flowed through the battlefield like the smoke I was, shadows curling around me, mercs falling silent where I passed. My hunger roared in my ears, but I shut it out. Not until I found her. Not until I knew she still burned.

The whole meadow seem to have been changing, and twisting into something darker, like a sweet dream and a horrible nightmare were merging to become one. “Please!” I cried. “Stop! I’m here, I’m here... just look at me, please!” And finally, he halted. Then, slowly, he began to turn to face me and when his beautiful blue eyes met mine... My blood ran still. There’s fire in them. Anger... but at the same time devastation. He raised his hand and snapped his fingers. And the lore began to burn. The ground splitted open in long, jagged scars. Fire flooded it from beneath, making sure to swallow everything in its path... the wolves, the Lycans, even the war itself. Painful screams echoed through th

The last time she’d seen something that red, it had been a birth certificate… forged, bloody, and sealed with a lie. No name. No seal. Just a single note inside, typed in block letters: TWENTY-FOUR HOURS. OR THE WORLD SEES WHAT FIREBLOOD REALLY MEANS. Her throat closed. Damian was gone. And someone knew what even she didn’t fully understand, what Fireblood meant. She didn’t cry. She didn’t scream. She got dressed. Black jeans. Black boots. No jewelry. Just sleek, sharp lines and a loaded mind. She looked at her wedding ring, hesitated, then slid it into her pocket.

I whispered. He leaned in then, the scent of smoke and whiskey clinging to his words. “Understand this…..I don’t and I won’t share what’s mine. If I catch even the faintest shadow of another man near you…” His voice dipped lower, almost a whisper. “It won’t be him who pays. It’ll be you and your family.” The ice in his voice made my blood run cold. The blood drained from my face, but I forced myself to hold his gaze. For the first time, I wasn’t sure whether I hated him more for the threat or for the fact that part of me already believed he could make good on it.

I said, gesturing to the large roof-to-floor height window, “I built this great empire, I wouldn't mind burning everything and everyone with it to the ground if I'm not providing with the very last bloodline of my murder. I really regret letting someone who shouldn't be here stay. Everyone in the small peaceful family will pay for the deceitful love their foremother showed me. Through the window, they could all see their home burn. Yes, this revenge would thrust like a fresh sweet wine. Cheers to sweet reprisal. “Please master,” One amongst the high howlers who was brave enough spoke, “ Please I beg of you, show mercy on us, we know nothing of how badly our ancestors have treated you,” “That

The darkness remained silent and empty. “Alexei! You bastard!” I kept roaring. Kept screaming his name until my voice cracked. My throat felt like it was on fire. Each scream tore at my vocal cords. And I could taste blood in my throat, warm and metallic. It filled my mouth. I coughed violently. Blood splattered from my lips onto my chest and trousers. The dark stains spread across the fabric as an evidence of my desperation. But I didn't stop. I needed to get out of this shit and save Irina. I needed to see that son of a bitch and put a bullet in his fucking head this time!

Their eyes were the same—golden, ancient, and as if bowing to blood older than their own. They bowed their heads and howled loudly. The long howl broke and echoed, making my heart tremble to the bone. Father stood tall with pride. And I could see that Alpha George was staring at me without looking away for even a second. The elder continued. "The heir of Carpathian will light the Fire of Lineage." I blinked rapidly, not understanding. "What fire?" Alpha George approached, his voice low and warm. "A fire that only burns if your blood is pure. If you are not the heir, then the fire will consume you."

Lucifron was the son of the King's General, and next in line to command the royal troops. He was stoic and devoid of emotions. He used his days to train and become even stronger than his father, and he occupied his free time in the company of his only friends, with whom he managed to open his soul. Hanna with her fire dragon, Argenta. Nymphe with her elemental water dragon, Hydra. Dalkor and Valdar, the only fated fireheart couple between them, with their elemental fire dragons, Reese and Kai.