King Of Runes Novels & Stories

"Gods do you all have an entire library in your minds?" Kyla giggles. "It's not difficult. It merely requires practice." "Yeah I don't think I could ever remember all of that stuff even with decades of practice." "The rune helps. Queen Syrra and I come from the same clan where knowledge is valued above everything so we both have the rune for knowledge," she tells me. I frown. "I thought only clan leaders get the tattoo?" "I was the clan leader for more than a year while Queen Syrra was building her throne."

William’s voice merged with the beautiful notes of the goddess. Vragenn listened in fascination to this dual voice. I looked, not daring to move - unable to move! - as the young man stopped in front of him at arm's length and raised a black sword. The Night Raven pierced the Lord's chest. Dark Power enveloped the blade, piercing the vampire king's body, arching it and shaking it with piercing pain. William pulled out his sword, taking a step back. Vragenn lowered his head, looking at the gaping wound in his chest. He touched her with his hand, staining his fingers with blood. A crazy smile appeared on the king's lips. The Lord looked into the dark eyes with unimaginable tenderness and longin

“While most of us are only subject to the foundational runes, Trick must abide by all of them as king.” “It’s meant to be a system of checks and balances to keep him from becoming too powerful,” Jules said. “And you can’t go against them? Like moving up the wedding wouldn’t be an option?” I wondered. “Anxious to be my bride?” Trick asked, a glint in his eyes. I flushed and couldn’t think of a response. Thankfully, he continued. “No, to go against the runes would certainly inflict unnecessary pain upon myself. Been there, done that, will avoid in the future.”

he shouted The old man didn’t say a word and through the pump of his staff, there goes a ring with a red-like gem on it… and a sword? The sword was estimated to be around 3 feet long. I believe it is what they call the Joyeuse sword. It was arguably the most powerful sword the man has ever crafted. It was made by Charlemagne, a Frankish king out of gold and gem-encrusted hilt, the blade was forged from the same ore and metal that made Durendal, a sword wielded and is also one of the deadliest in the world. Legend has it, that the sword was forged by the infamous blacksmith legend Galas, who took three years to complete. Legends also stated that it possesses the spirit of the

she wondered, it had popped up in the info dump she received and the voice in the dark place had said it to her right before she first woke up here. "Regis, is an old word for king, or something. It's also connected to my phantom crest," The crest hissed at her and information found itself in her subconscious. "There are other Regis out there, I can almost feel them, and they can feel me. We're all connected… like a network."

The forbidden text inscribed within revealed itself slowly but surely; ancient runes etched in blood-red ink that seemed to pulsate with dark energy. As I delved deeper into the book, my heart quickened with anticipation. The passages hinted at a forgotten history, a tale of a powerful Lycan King who had once ruled over the land. It spoke of his rise to power and the dark deeds he had committed in his quest for dominance. But it also hinted at a hidden truth, a secret that had been buried for centuries, waiting to be uncovered.

While staggering backward in uncontrollable force, he used his arms to tapped the ground to braced himself. But, king Edward was not done yet- raising his right hands, in a quick succession he had writen a magic runes on the air. Instantly a circle of runes appeared underneath arden's feet. The rune lighted unto a blue bright colour. "Sealing magic; chained of fire" king Edward chanted. A loud groaned came out from arden when a very intense scorching fire wrapped him. Arden, on the other hand quick to cast a spell of his own. "Ancient magic; Regantee"

My fingers trace runes of extinction across the air as I walk the shattered veil between realms. Below me, in the ravaged city of iron and ash, the last pack stands. Wolves twisted by war, their bodies malformed by ancient curses and human cruelty. They are the last sons and daughters of Fenrir. And I will end them. I arrive as moonlight made flesh. The rogue king sees me first. His name is Kael. He reeks of rebellion. He wears a silver scar where a god once struck him down. He does not bow. “You shouldn’t have come,” he says.

"Your Majesty." In that moment, Noah knew he was better of being feared than respected. If he could not have love, he would have fear. If he could not have loyalty, he would have submission. The Elder hurriedly slipped the crown of midnight black on Noah's head. The weight that eased on seemed a lot heavier than Noah had expected. He knew it was not only the weight of metal but also the weight of a whole kingdom. He could easily be overwhelmed under it. Had he been two days younger, he would. But now he was everything and nothing. He was a King and an Alpha to-be, but even still, he was what he always was—alone.

So I go to meet a friend. “Sorry to make you wait,” I said as I walked towards my living room. “How was the trip, Cullen?” “Nikolas! Great seeing you; it was tiresome. Almost twelve hours of flight,” Cullen said as he bowed. Cullen was the King of the Kingdom of the North. It was in the United States. He was the only other friend I had apart from Charles. My trust in people was an enormous problem. After everything that happened with my family, I had trust issues.