Gregor The Overlander Fan Art Novels & Stories

I said locking the bitterness I felt in a box and locking it up in the deepest part in my Brain. "But you and I, we're a team now. The strongest team. Okay?" He nodded slowly before he smiled "Can we still show him my art project if he comes home?" "Of course," I said, though I doubted Xenois would return before Ollie's bedtime. He never did. I helped Ollie set up his art project on the kitchen table—it was a picture of our pack territory made with clay, twigs, and painted rocks. He'd worked on it for days, as he diligently added werewolves one by one to represent his family.

Alexander He gritted his teeth as he studied the image of his lycan above the marbled mantlepiece. The painting was done by a royal pack member, Paul Cezanne in 1858. The worth of the art was invaluable like the artist himself. No matter how much he tried to relax, it was impossible. His wolf was snarling and roaring in his head, wanting blood on his sharp canines. The blood of the enemy. A fucking necromancer. He will tear him piece by piece by nightfall tomorrow.

Eris acknowledged their presence and sat down. "The western territories have reported several sightings of rogues. However, there were no actions done against them but their movements seems to be suspicious. This is the picture taken by a lycanthrope sentinel. These men were digging through the dirt and formed a symbol." Jayden pulled another picture. The drawing seems to be unfinished and they couldn't decipher yet what it was.

I grinned slightly and said I hope they did. "Should I introduce myself to your father," he asked roughly and I shook my head and told him a letter would be sent. "Okay, well goodbye then, Madeline," he growled softly and left behind the trees once again. A few moments later Fenrir, his black wolf appeared and rubbed itself against me before running off into the dense woods. I watched until I couldn't see him anymore. I smiled and headed to the palace, still a little tipsy. I ran past my parents and straight to my room and pulled out my art supplies and began sketching lifelike portraits of Mystrel and a few of Fenrir. I drew until I'd filled an entire sketch book. I looked at my drawing and

“They’ll come for you, Lily. You can’t outrun them forever,” I peered out of the window, studying the Rogues chasing after me. A chill ran down my spine as it dawned on me the real identity of these rogue wolves. They weren’t random rogues out for an easy meal – they had small cuts on the left side of their ears… they were known as “The Crawler”.

"The emotional progression from your earlier work to this is stunning. Pain to hope to joy." "That's the journey." I touched the mating mark unconsciously, now faded to a silvery scar but still prominently visible. "Five years compressed into canvas." Skyler appeared at my side, sliding an arm around my waist. The casual possessiveness would have irritated me before, but now it just felt right. The bond had settled over the past week, becoming less overwhelming and more like background music—always there, always aware, but not consuming. "The young artist with the wolf portraits?" he murmured. "She's getting a lot of attention."

“Well, girl. You want to learn from this old wolf?” Gregor was a werewolf? I hadn’t realized. He must be a Rogue, to be among the Warren, but I’d never heard of a healer going Rogue. I nodded, and wrote, “I want to learn. Naomi says you are the best.” “Aw, you’re gonna make me blush, girls,” Gregor said, utterly deadpan. I was fairly certain that man’s face did not know how to blush.

"A treaty? With a wild pack?" Gregor seemed to understand the shift in my posture. He stood up slowly from his haunches, taking three calm steps closer until he was standing just six feet away. The sheer size of him was staggering—his back came up past my waist, his broad chest showing the thick, powerful muscle of an apex predator. He lowered his head until his dark nose was level with my hand. He didn't snap. He simply drew in a long, deep breath, catching my scent—the iron of my knife, the salt of my skin, and the clean scent of the Haven wheat fields.

"Eleven... eleven years more. And then I will have my wolf." ‘Once she has her wolf, I will definitely throw her from the top to scare her,’ Gregor said. I bet now he would start planning and plotting against Soleil’s wolf. After all, he had nothing else to do. I didn't want to comment but the wolf who couldn't manage to scare a pup of seven years. How would he scare a young woman of eighteen years? * #TBC

He held the painting tightly but he was surprised when he noticed the painting seemed to be different. Noel saw the change in the painting, a man who had been surfing had just been in the painting, now it looked like a deep well that was very bright inside. He tried to release the painting but he could not, because a strong force coming from inside the painting pulled his whole face up to his neck. He was screaming but it was just an echo that kept coming back to his hearing. Laughing Gregorio approached the black cabinet. With both hands, he opened it. "My dear lord! Watch the new gift I offer you." Gregorio said happily. He looked back at the young man who seemed to be trying to remove his