Imaginary Westeros Novels & Stories

Hearing it spoken in the open air above the Atlantic gave it a different quality. Permanent was the word she kept arriving at. Not ending. Permanent. The crown of the Vael bloodline was a physical object smaller than she'd expected, old metal worn smooth by time, carrying nothing theatrical. Seren placed it on Caspian's head with the precise care of someone who had done this for three hundred years and understood that the object was less significant than the moment. He became, in that moment, what he had been becoming for a very long time. She watched it happen.

“So, she is part demon? One of Dante’s sprogs that slipped through the net?” “No,” Lucas leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees as a weary sigh escaped him. “Atlas and Amos don’t have wolf spirits remember? Chloe does; Hecate.” “Hecate? What kind of name is that?” “It’s the name of a Greek goddess. As far as we can tell, only the Wolfe line has a wolven spirit with a Greek name. Even Sierra and Alvaro don’t have them. So, how come she has one?” Lucas raised an eyebrow, hazel eyes darkening as the questions piled up. “I think we need to make a call.”

In the Royal War Room, draped with crimson banners and maps aged by fire and arrogance, King Lonald III addressed his court with the pompous flair of a deluded emperor. “Aeternum,” he sneered, pointing a jeweled finger at a fresh ink-drawn border across the map. “A house of illusions. Built on deceit and witchcraft. Their wealth? Fake. Their people? Slaves. And that founder of theirs? A sorcerer with a silver tongue.” “They’re strong, my king,” said Marshal Elwin, his tone cautious. “And the world now sees them as leaders. Even Battle Star Empire has acknowledged their governance over the Wasteland…”

Sia staggered as the one inside the cage became visible. “No, this is impossible!” Sia whispered, shaking her head. Her face flushed red, and she felt a ringing sensation in her ears. How could this be possible? Her breathing became labored as she tried to wrap her head around what she was seeing. Standing right in front of her was the love of her life ‘R.’ Was this a room of illusions? Was R really there? How could he reach here? She had seen him blaze in the inferno with her own eyes. Was that an illusion, or was this?

“We’re witches from the Witches Guild in North America. Theon and Haden are from the Rexellen pack. You already know who exactly Theon is.” “Theon and Haden?” Mihai sneers. “I see that you lied about your names as well. And you,” he looks at Hunter, “aren’t a teenager.” Hunter screws her face in embarrassment. “Yeah, I’m not. Sorry about that. But in our defense, you really can’t tell a farming family in rural Romania that you’re ‘creatures of the night’, as the hunters put it.” “I mean, we certainly cannot tell humans that,” I add, stepping towards them. “But you really aren’t human, are you?”

Ozaiah states. The Alpha King turns to face me, and I grow smaller. He raises his hand his braids catch my attention—the weave of his hair symbolizes the victories he has won. “I, Khal Drogo, Alpha and King of Basgiath.…” He begins but narrows as he looks toward Gareth. “What is her name?” he growls, and my brother blurts it out. “I, Khal Drogo, Alpha of the barbarians and King of Basgiath, the unburnt, take Akemi Ravenscar as my human mate.” He dips his hand into a bowl filled with red liquid and marks my forehead.

The imperial capital was a city of gilded masks and whispering secrets, its marble towers reaching for the heavens while its streets pulsed with the blood of the forgotten. Nia had walked its stone paths before, as a child, holding her mother’s hand as they shopped for food. Now, she walked as an assassin, her every step calculated, every breath measured. She was no longer Nia Wolfsong—the girl whose village had been burned and destroyed. Now, she was "Mist Fang," the most elusive, feared assassin in the empire.

"I'm back." I look up to see West approaching my desk. He's an impure like me. People like us are regarded as the abominations of the society. He's a mage who has the blood of an undead flowing in his veins. On the other hand, I'm a dragon shifter with demon blood running through my veins. "She's safe and sound, Dash. Now, tell me what that was about." "Fine." .... "I can't believe we're doing this" I mutter. West chuckles and nudges me.

Being cold, hungry and humiliated is easier to put up with day after day, than living in this world of royalty. Where everything is artificial, nothing is real. But let me be carried away by my imagination of a happy marriage for love, my desire to be happy in an arranged communion. I close my eyes making me believe only what my mind allowed, left the warnings to the side, that was my greatest sin. I should have proposed to extend the wedding date.

"Welcome to the Nexus of Unity, a realm shaped by the convergence of supernatural energies and the extraordinary love you bear." The Nexus, bathed in a soft, luminescent glow, seemed to respond to Faelan's words. The very fabric of the realm pulsed with a harmonious resonance, echoing the unity between werewolves and vampires that the Heartwood had foreseen. The air sparkled with the promise of untold adventures, and the horizon beckoned with mysteries waiting to be unveiled.