Gregor The Overlander Novels & Stories

Aiden raises his voice in frustration "If you don't get over here now, we will find that delicate creature and tear her apart!" Roger looks over at Jessica, she looks peaceful and smiles in her sleep. He walks over to the large windows naked and breathes in deeply. Roger is what is called a highborn werewolf. This means he can take on werewolf form at any time. Roger flexes his muscles and he starts to transform. The process is painful as you hear his bones cracking and changing shape and the sound of his skin stretching to accommodate for his larger form. Roger jumps off the balcony of the penthouse and climbs down the side of the building and jumps onto nearby scaffolding and onto the roof

“A bomb set to explode?” Kai's eyes grew tender. "You’re beyond that." However, we need to understand what is occurring before Gregor utilizes it against you. “Then where should we begin?” I inquired, my voice quivering. He gestured toward the distant mountains. "The elderly shaman." “If anyone is aware of what’s happening, it’s her.” The trip was exhausting. The more we distanced ourselves from the pack’s territory, the more difficult it grew to resist the urge within me. It felt as though my wolf was scratching at the corners of my mind, uneasy and disturbed.

The wolf-soldier collapsed, its body shaking as it unravelled into a man. “Go!” Ronan barked. They ran, Ash holding his side, with Liora helping him by pulling his arm over her shoulder. The howls behind changed into angry snarls, and they had hurt the pack’s leader. They burst from the trees, and the mill stood before them across a small stretch of corrupted ground. The air crackled with evil energy and the red light of the moon shone on the mill, feeding the darkness inside. Between them and the mill’s wide-open door stood Gregor, who held a torch in one hand and a heavy hunting spear in the other. Half a dozen of his most loyal followers were with him, their faces serious and fierce.

But hopefully, this would just be the standard, run-of-the-mill, confused rogue. We followed the scent to a rocky hill that turned into a mountain, continuing up some rugged terrain. We dug our sharp claws into the stone, making our way up quickly and efficiently, stopping at a plateau partway up. Resting on the ledge, looking over the forested land, was a she-wolf with thick, dark-brown fur and icy-blue eyes. The three of us instantly surrounded her as she got up onto her four legs, turning to face us. She slowly moved her head, making eye contact with each of us one by one, her face emotionless.

He pointed out a large davenport. I just nodded, and he started walking out of the house. I let myself sit on the couch and waited. After a few minutes of being comfortable on the settee, I heard footsteps outside and opened the door. I saw Alarick holding the lead rope of a sorrel horse. “What is with the horse?” “We’ll ride this horse,” he replied and hopped on. I nodded and sighed. I thought werewolves can run faster than horses?

Rolph stepped toward me, but Xander stepped between us. I shook my head. "No, I don't think that's possible." A crease formed between my eyes as I studied him. "Where are you from? My pack was decimated." He nodded. "Yes. That was The Skyefrost Pack, correct?" I nodded. "How did you know that?" He nodded toward the grimoire. "That is the Book of Elders, the grimoire of your people, is it not?" "Yes," I said, dragging out the word. "Why?"

The second guard spoke up, his earth brown eyes hard and challenging. "Right." Omar nodded, his olive skin going a couple of shades paler as he stepped back to let Chloe go in alone. Chloe felt like she was walking into the lion's den. Her hands which had stopped trembling briefly were at it again and her knees felt like hello. She was scared. There was no use in denying it. She was about to be alone with a mysterious man who Chloe knew just by looking at him, was dangerous. And yet he was wildly different from the men who prowled the packlands. He wasn't a pervert or abuser. She didn't fear he would try to tape her. No, this fear was basal. It was instinct. He was a predator, a supreme beas

"They aren't here!" Suddenly, the frantic scraping of our search was violently interrupted. It started low, a deep, chest-rattling vibration that seemed to shake the very floorboards beneath our feet. Then, it erupted. It wasn't the high-pitched, raspy screech of a human zombie. It was a massive, thunderous, bone-chilling howl that tore through the night sky just outside the walls of the lodge. It was a werewolf’s roar, but it was distorted, gurgling with wet, corrupted rage, carrying an alpha’s terrifying authority twisted by the black sickness.

The fourth piece arrived at sundown. It was not a scout report or a formal communication or a pack delegation. It was a single wolf arriving at the broken eastern gate on foot. Exhausted,unarmed. Clothing torn from movement through rough territory for many hours. Gregor of Greyspire. He stood at the broken gate with Darius's enforcers surrounding him and his hands open and his face carrying everything the last forty-eight hours cost him. "I want to make a formal account," he said. "Of everything Dorian Vane told me and

"**The Devourer can't truly be destroyed.**" Silence fell over the sanctuary. Nyxar's face hardened. "What do you mean?" "It has to be healed." Even Orion stared in disbelief. "Healed?" Aiden nodded. "It became the monster it is because the world kept feeding it fear, hatred, and despair." Fenrir shook his head. "That's impossible." "No," a calm voice interrupted. Everyone turned to see that the Elder Wolf had returned. Beside him walked seven enormous silver wolves, each bearing ancient markings that matched one of the Seven Guardians. The Elder looked at Aiden with quiet pride. "The child has seen the truth."