Garm Vs Fenrir Novels & Stories

Switching the shower on, I strip off and step into the hot water, as Aura explains. “Fenrir has gifts. He can open a portal from anywhere, even from hell. Fen can mask his scent, he can control the storms, plus he commands the armies of the underworld. He is powerful, but...” she sighs out and I stop shampooing my hair. “But, what?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.

Last time I saw Fenrir, they were royal purple, like molten amethyst under the moonlight. Kassian’s wolf, Fenrir, is a stark contrast to Rowan’s Rune. Fenrir is larger, faster, stronger—an overwhelming force of raw power and ferocity that Rune, with his quieter, more agile presence, could never match. Yet, it isn’t just size or strength that sets them apart. It’s their eyes—those unmistakable marks of their deviance. Fenrir’s were a regal, commanding royal purple, while Rune’s shimmered a softer, almost ethereal lilac. Together, the Draven brothers were known for this rare and legendary trait. No shifter alive could mistake them—their wolves’ eyes were their signature.

He is Fenrir Hasting, trainer of the Amory. “Hello, Fenrir, it is nice to meet you, but I am not sure what just happened. I was joking around, then felt a spike of rage, then they kneeled in submission and the rage disappeared. I keep having moments that happen, but I cannot control them like I am a passenger in my body.” The Fenrir is a title that is given to the lead trainer of the Amory. The Fenrir title runs in the genetic line. The same line produces the Jormungandr. They are usually brothers from the stories I remember hearing as a child. I wonder when I will meet him.

I said it before, he was the male version of Medusa. I swiveled on the balls of my feet, instantly meeting Gunnar's green-brown eyes. They were more brown with blotches of green swirling through the irises this morning and they were hooded with days worth of exhaustion. Thick stubble coated his jaw, framing the impeccable slice of it. His chocolate brown locks were snarled in every direction; tufts sticking out and begging for me to run my fingers through. I fisted my hands, quickly shaking the thought out of my head.