Novel & Cerita Gregor The Overlander Fan Art

His arm, all hairy and clawed, reached out of the passenger window of their Jeep and tried to grab our rear door handle. “Oh, absolutely not!” I yelled, smacking Gregor’s arm. “Do something wolfy!” Gregor growled low, eyes flashing. “What do you want me to do, moon them?” “Yes! Distract them with your bare ass, it’s probably shinier than this Kia’s paint job!”

I found tons of comedically large pictures in each hallway, showing respected warrior wolves and members of the Mortimer family. After walking for a few hours, I finally saw his, a large painting by Steven Mortimer. His face was something of a dream, and his eyes were nothing short of two raging blue suns, struggling for which would burn the brightest. As I stared at his picture, I got more and more immersed in his grace and wanted nothing but to be with him. "Amazing, isn’t it?” Gregory’s voice sounded behind me, and I immediately froze. He walked out of a shadowy area behind me and moved to my right side, saying, “You’re up really early.”

Gregor said. “Well, I don’t know about rogue. If you’re talking about Elowen, then you’re too late. I’ve claimed her as mine, she’s my Luna now. You know what that means don’t you?” I saw the look on Gregor’s face change immediately. “What?!” His son yelled in disbelief. “How the hell’s that possible?!” “There’s no way that you’d do that Kael, she belongs to my pack” Gregor said in disbelief.

Not even a single try. “What does it say?” I asked, brows furrowing as I rubbed both of my palms to create warmth. The cold had been much cruel today ever since we arrived at the healer’s cabin. I encouraged myself to look at the drawings instead; the art style is pretty much gothic, if not ancient. It wasn’t inked. Hues of black and white were embedded on the golden brown pages of the material. I saw the graphics of a human and a werewolf. They were doing something strange… some sort of a ritual. Elliot did not flip the pages further so I ended up guessing that that was it.

A shiver runs down my spine, the images from the paintings flashing before my eyes—twisted, grotesque forms that hinted at a descent into savagery. "We have to find her," I whisper, more to myself than to Landon. "We need to know the truth." Landon nods, "We will," he assures me, though I can see the shadow of doubt in his eyes. "We'll find her, no matter what it takes." I recall the last painting, the one that haunts my dreams—the image of me being devoured before transforming into a black wolf. It was like a prophecy. "Landon," I begin, my voice barely above a whisper, "there was one last painting..."

My eyes were enormous circles with jagged lines coming out—lightning, maybe. Underneath, in Rowan’s careful, wobbly handwriting: THE KERSED LUNA. The second panel had a moon with angry eyebrows and what I thought might be teeth. A tiny figure (me, presumably) stood under it, frowning. Panel three showed a blob with too many arms, and what I assumed was Malric’s crown, being bitten by a smaller blob with pointy teeth. Panel four was just me again, this time with a wolf tail and a baby in my arms, the angry moon now… smiling? Or having a stroke. It's hard to say.

In the end, I think they turned out great. Not that I knew what the others were for but there was also a frog on a log, a humming bird and a fat Cardinal. The very last one I was drawing was for Arlo. He got those picture for us, or more for me. It was of a wolf. It’s head was downward with his teeth showing. The hair was standing straight up with a human skull under it’s paw. There wasn’t any flesh on it, just the bones. Originally, I was going to make it a dead rabbit or something but this seemed appropriate. Keeping this one black and white, kept some of the mystery alive. “Charlotte??” Waylon yelled as he was coming in.

"Kneel, pup, or I’ll rip the marrow from your bones." The voice sounded like tectonic plates grinding together. Gregor, a mountain of grey-mottled fur from the Siberian wastes, took up half the subway tunnel. His breath hit Malakai’s face in a hot, stinking wave of rotting meat and wet earth. Behind him, fifty wolves from the Russian steppes crouched in the dark, their eyes glowing like malignant stars.

She whispered. Elara’s voice broke the quiet. “Mommy, look!” Aurora turned to see her holding up a picture…a family of three she’d drawn in bright colors. “This is you, me, and Grandpa Doctor!” She said proudly. Aurora laughed softly, blinking back the sudden sting in her eyes. “That’s beautiful, sweetheart.” Dr. Halvorsen smiled at the drawing, his eyes soft. “I think that’s my favorite piece of art in years.”

Oceans p.o.v. Gregory doubled over as if in pain, before I could react he had transformed into his shaggy brown wolf and was howling to the sky "Gregory, what's wrong?" "Ocean, it's Desert and Lanna they went into the forest and didn't come back and now Sky cant contact Desert" fear settled deep in my stomach "I'm on my way" I rush over to Gregory "Gregory, come on we need to go, Lanna and Desert need us"