Legend Characters Book Novels & Stories

As I stepped into my bedroom there was a light glow from the corner of the window seat. I edged my way over a little nervous. Only to see a book. A beautiful leather bound book. With a white wolf engraved in the cover. It was that giving off the glow. I picked it up and read the title. "Legends Of The White Wolves". My breath caught in my throat. I was frightened and nervous and not at all sure I wanted to know what was inside. I raced downstairs and launched myself into. "Lily's arms... '' What is it, my love?

Madeline spoke loudly as Alexander and Ashton coughed black blood before lifting their bodies to look at the thing or figure that Madeline was calling a God. "It can’t be possible. This… the story of the legendary Lion. The person that a lion chooses himself to own him. How can this be? That's not Maahes. That's Victoria. The Victoria, who has returned like Maahes." Christopher mumbled, still in shock. Stumbling back, he fell to the ground, not even able to stand in front of such a powerful entity. Roaring angrily, Victoria looked at Madeline before she walked close to where everyone was, her body walking with a speed of light as she roared again,

That’s when I saw it. A book,half-hidden beneath the bed. My heart skipped. I reached for it slowly, my fingers brushing the worn leather cover. As I pulled it into the light, my breath caught. The Legendary Luna. The title was carved into the front in elegant, ancient script. “This can’t be…” I whispered. “Isn’t this the same book from the library?” How did it end up here? Just then, Scarlet’s voice echoed in my mind. “There is a lot you need to know,” she said softly.

“Forgive me, my lady, but what do you mean by people?” “Oh I see! You’re a Kelorian aren’t you?” “A what?” “A Kelorian. It’s what me people and I call you people…. I mean creatures, of Kelor. To answer your question, people are what you would call creatures. Speaking of creatures, what kind of creatures are you? So far we’ve met only two kinds but we’ve been told that there are more.”

"Please, I want the book. One day I will understand." Brandt smiled and replied with humor, "If you ever make sense of it, let me know. You can then argue with my father on the merits of Christianity. He believes in the Goddess and loves nothing better than a good philosophical debate." He turned and picked up another book. It had a picture of a wolf with a snowy mountain background. "This is Jack London's Call of the Wild and it's the one we'll read first. Let's finish the cake and then get ready for our evening company."

"Take a look." My gaze followed to where he was pointing and my eyes settled on a particular section of the bookshelves. A series of worn leather-bound books caught my attention, each with intricate symbols on the spine. "What are these?" I asked, pointing to the books. Alex's eyes lit up with recognition. "Those are tales that have intrigued me since I was a child. I often come in here to read. Many of the books are legends, but they still hold facts about our history." "Like this one for example," he said, walking to the shelf and plucking a title at random. "It's 'The Secrets of The Panther Shifters.' There really aren't any secrets, it's just a retelling of their history."

Did she have ancestors from there several generations back that she just didn't know about? And most of all, what did any of it have to do with the very strange book she'd found, Legends of the Werewolf. The binding was ancient leather, now frayed in many places, and the lettering in gold. The other night when she finally opened it she expected to read about the history of werewolves and how that history came to be. Instead, to her shock, the stories were about shapeshifters, people who could change into the shape of a wolf. Whole villages apparently had that ability and when danger presented itself they shifted into their wolf shape, gathered as a pack and disappeared.

He asked. He knew that book. The lycans made a story about him, Legend of the Demon Prince. What started as a harmless bedtime story became something more of a horror tale. "It was a gift, on my eighteenth birthday." She said. "The day the Wildings attacked." She opened the first page and turn it around, then pointed at a drawing. "This is you, isn't it?" Kieran drew close and peered at the book. It was indeed, a picture of him, drawn in obsidian ink. Whoever the artist was, they perfectly captured every detail, even up to the crimson red orbs of his eyes.

Valentina slid into the last stall, locked it, and set the briefcase on the narrow shelf above the toilet. Her hands moved fast, efficient. The key turned with a faint click, and the lid lifted. There it was. The ledger. Black leather, worn at the edges, its pages thick with ink. She flipped it open, her breath catching as names and numbers spilled across the paper: shipments, ports, bribes, politicians bought and paid for—routes carved in blood. It wasn’t just a ledger—it was an empire written in code and ink. Her chest tightened. If Dante wanted this, it wasn’t for leverage—it was for war.

“Report: Unique Skill, Illusion Manipulation, acquired!” D*mn, what was that? Now, it starting to scare the hell out of me. Maybe this is what happens to people who are about to die. I heaved a deep sigh mentally. Am I just going to accept my fate? How I wish I had the courage to tell Iris all the love I feel for her. “Report: Special skill, Leo, the Zodiac of pride and bravery, acquired!” I’m really going to die. There's no helping it. There was no hope anymore for me to survive in this lake of fire. It’s like I’m in hell right now.