Magnar Game Of Thrones Novels & Stories

The air itself felt heavy, suffocating, alive with the pulse of too much power. Kael was a golden blur before me, tearing through Lycans that tried to reach me. Storm’s spells flared in the distance, weaving shields of blue fire through the ranks. Milo and Jones fought back to back, their snarls blending with the cries of dying enemies. The entire mountain was alive with chaos and at the center of it all stood Magnus. He was waiting. He stood on the ridge above the battlefield, his black cloak billowing in the wind, his army moving like shadows beneath him. His eyes, those burning crimson eyes never left me. He wasn’t fighting anymore. He was watching and trying to test me.

I hissed. Margaret was trapped in his shield weeping, finally understanding that her mate died trying to keep her safe. Dylan was shell shocked in the treeline wrapping his head around what he just heard. “I just wanted my wife back,” Magnus whispered, defeated, breaking eye contact and staring at the ground. “You’re too late hun,” I whispered. “That ship sailed long ago.” He jerked his eyes up to meet mine and smirked. For only a second, his eyes blazed orange, before I knocked him out cold. The vines tightened around him, as the portal opened and out came 20 undead.

“I’m telling you that Darren being there is the will of the gods. We don’t know why, though.” “It must be his test. I guess he failed.” Gunnar’s voice was quiet but it was still irritating. “My mate wouldn’t have failed! You shouldn’t talk about what you don’t know,” I snapped in agitation. “It’s going to be okay.” Magnus stepped closer to me and leaned down so that his face was level with mine. “I’ll help you. I won’t leave you alone. I’ll help raise your child and be there to support—” Suddenly, his words halted. He looked at me as if I was a slug. His brows knit together and then he stepped back. “It vanished. It was there just now, and now it’s gone.” He reached out and grabbed my hand.

It was because he didn’t pose a danger to me. He lifted his head slowly, breathing so hard that his giant body shook. When his eyes opened, they were no longer silver. They burned with the fire of a king—an immortal. Maybe an unstoppable monarch of the supernatural world. He reached for me. Not gently but possessively, as if touching what he had been hunting for centuries. “My name…” He inhaled sharply, as if speaking cost him control. “It’s Magnon!” Magnon! I fell to my knees with bewilderment. I saw darkness for a moment as a wave of doom swept across me.