Imaginary Westeros นิยาย & เรื่องราว

“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.

Inviting Jason and his mate Thalia in, I politely asked her to take a seat. Thalia's presence brought a sense of calm to the room. Her confidence and poise were evident as she began to speak, elucidating the complexities surrounding Amara's true nature. I listened intently, absorbing each detail she shared, and it became clear that Amara was no ordinary wolf. She was a hybrid, a remarkable fusion of wolf and witch, destined for greatness if unbound appropriately.

"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.

His shadow was missing, leaving an eerie emptiness at his feet. Dizziness clouded my vision, and as my consciousness wavered, a figure materialized out of the darkness. Hayden, the enigmatic ruler of the mythological Underworld, stood before me. My eyes widened in shock and fear as I believed he had come to reclaim me, to take me back to the realm of shadows and despair.

He wanted to nurture Kristel and know her better. Thinking of what had happened to them last night, made him want Kristel more. He couldn't help himsepf but to hold his member and imagine Kristel on top of him. He is now craving for her load moans and movement of her hips on top of him. It was cold in his airconditioned room , but he can't help himself as he sweats as lot, thinking of their lovemaking being intense in his imagination. "Kristel, hmmmmm. You are really something. Hmmm. You made me imagine you this way," he continued pleasuring himself which he haven't done before. He almost moan aloud upon imagining of how hot Kristel was moving on top of him.

Others lay pale and dead, as if the colour had been sucked out of them. This was not one wasteland. It was a whole wounded world. The thought made my chest tighten. Everything we had talked about became real from above. Kingdoms. Territories. Dead zones. Trade paths. Places no one returned from. Crowns fighting over land that could still breathe. Wraiths taking ground. Dragons ruling ruined beauty. People living somehow in between it all. My fear grew. So did my wonder. Because even broken, the Outlands was not small.