Ifrit Mythology Novels & Stories

As long as he could kill the emperor with his own hands he would agree to anything. And with the strength of another Duke, his goal was closer than ever. Ifrit Level - 221 S-class 2nd circle Title- Blaze king Class- Hell Mage

Ancestor of Maria and witches of Eregdrix. Origin : Merlin myths 22) Name : Mafalda Being : Fate Hierarchy : Fate 1 (the one who speaks destiny) Role : Sister of Fate Origin : Greek myths 23) Name : Ataturé Being : Fate Hierarchy : Fate 2 (the one who makes life) Role : Sister of Fate Origin : Greek myths 24) Name : Arantxa Name pronunciation : A-ran-cha Being : Fate Hierarchy : Fate 3 (the one who ends life) (the one who cuts the thread of life)

Helen stammered, then shot Flara an irritated glare. Flara stopped and looked behind her. There was nothing but boundless darkness—the shadows of trees swaying within it. She swallowed hard, then turned back to the short-haired girl: “Frigg… I won’t complain anymore.” That’s right—this tomboyish, short-haired girl was Frigg. Daughter of Fjörgynn and Nótt, a figure of high standing within the Vanir tribe, yet also mocked by many as a wild child—unloved by either parent.

I asked him, panic thick in my voice as I suddenly looked around in fright and waited for whatever this evil may be to suddenly attack me since I was aware of its existence. "Tis a tale, is it not?" he casually spoke with a shrug and I shook my head. "There is truth in myths, Abigor. You of all people should know that," he was a man of intelligence, no doubt a man that should be aware of truths in all matters myth or folklore, "and what you have described...only one mythical creature is capable of sucking the blood out of its victims..." Master Abigor looked down at me, his eyes emotionless yet eager. The left corner of his lips slightly raised as he gave me a slow blink, "and which mythical

I swallow the bile that threatens to collect in my throat, “…they were going to rape her, but she turned...” “What did she turn into?” Lucifer asks as the men listen attentively. I shake my head and shrug, “I…I don’t know.” Michael curses, “Merde!” Gabriel snickers, “This just becomes more ridiculous by the moment. Are you telling me the women are the horsemen of the apocalypse?” I nod, “That’s what the moirai, Clotho said they were.” He crosses his arms in front of his chest and scowls, “Really, so where are they?”

Emotions had run wild between now and then; excitement, disbelief, discontent, rage, and now a thoughtful silence pervading the four walls like a thick blanket that lulls her back to the bay of sleep’s arms. Avian dips the feathered tip into the glass bottle and carefully lowers it onto the page where she had left, just beneath the grotesque sketch of an original Lycanthrope she had attempted whilst still in the throes of energy. “… Average of ten feet tall, five hundred pounds of muscle and fur that is impervious to the war instruments of man.” The high priest stands at the front left, his cheeks like emptied udders that tremble with each breath, “tapetum lucidum…” highly sensitised night v

Though it was a lot to take in, she couldn’t help but ask more questions. “My mother was a sylph-fairy hybrid, and my father was an Ifrit. My mother’s blood line has been very tainted throughout millennia of breeding. All of the women though, do contain the blood of gods.” Isla shrugged, as if it wasn’t something massive. Lily swallowed, trying to process it all. Immortals were real. Very, very real. Not only were they real, but they came in different species, different sizes, different everything. Was she a part of them?

Yolanda and I sipped Shamayim coffee sweetened from the sugar mills of the South as Jarngrimr whistled a skaldic lay of Freida and Ottar the Boar. She seemed to fancy Hyndla, the dwarven giant crone who helped Freida and Ottar, once her human champion, now in her service immortally like Adonis in Meditteranea to Cybele. Jarnja sang of how Ottar and Freida met:

“You really thought you were a mastermind, didn’t you? Stealing weapons, playing the rogue hero. Look at you now. Pathetic.” But just as Tethys’s mocking laughter echoed in the cavernous space, an unexpected noise broke the stillness. Outside, a massive rumble shook the cliffs, followed by a low, resonant voice that seemed to vibrate the very stone beneath my boots. Zaahir. The mighty Ifrit, ruler of the flames, stood at the base of the cliffs with a vast swarm of lesser fire spirits at his command. His towering figure exuded a raw, primal power, and his great horns gleamed brightly even in the dim light of the gorge.

He began to sit up slowly so he could turn and face Alysin. “I am an Elfre. We must return the gifts given to us with gifts of our own. It is our purpose.” Samnom focused harder and studied the girl’s face. Her ears were pointed like an Elf’s. Elfre were part of the Elf family but they had a distinct purpose. That was to give in return for being given a gift. They were loners and few people knew much about them. After giving their gifts their spirit was freed from the world and they moved on into another dimension.