Marvel Druid Novels & Stories

'D-Drake. Someone called him again, but then he realized that Emily was calling him. His jaw clenched as he faced the hunters. "You're ungrateful, human! You dare to hurt that unwanted Luna—the stray?" he roared. The hunters moved backward as Drake suddenly shifted into a wild werewolf. His eyes turned red. "Unwanted, Luna? Stray?" The hunter scoffed as his men laughed soundly. "She's not unwanted. She's a Luna who will carry your heir, but before that, I will kill you first, and then, she'll follow you."

He turned to the station and picked up the phone and dialled a number. “Whoa,” Marcus whispered, “Did you see his eyes? I’ve never seen a faerie like that before?” I grinned at his wonder as he stared at the poor guard, who was trying to ignore the fact he was being talked about. I smiled an apology at the guard. “The dracinites are an amazing warrior species,” I said. “Their skin is also made of scales so strong that blades and even guns are useless to them. And they don’t just see in the dark. They see everything as clearly as they do in the day.” Marcus’ eyes widened, and he stared at the guard in excitement. The guard puffed out his chest at my description and recognition of his skills.

Something that might sound dangerous to others, but it is just another day for them. I hear Draven following close behind me. I can feel his icy gaze watching my every movement. Drae is an expert swordsman, just like my father, but stronger and faster than my dad ever was. Drae has hunted many supernatural creatures over the years and defeated them with nothing but a scratch on his body. He moves like a ninja; every breath he takes and every movement he makes is utterly silent. And he wields a sword with the precision and accuracy of a strike of lightning. If Draven wanted to, he could kill me in less than a second and there would be nothing I could do about it. Luckily for me, I am not a da

The slaughter had taken only seconds. Draco stood there, drenched in the blood of their pack members, with his hungry eyes blazing with savage delight. His bloodthirsty wolf aura flared… ancient and primal, completely dominant and ruthless. The remaining guards hesitated, and their growls slowly began to become whimpers as their bodies shrunk back instinctively in the presence of a more powerful werewolf. There was no mistaking that Draco was truly of Alpha blood, that was the only explanation for the insane physical strength that was overwhelming them.

After taking a few breaths to recover, Logo retrieved a flare gun from his pack and squeezed the trigger! With a whoosh, the flare shot into the sky and exploded, forming the Campbell family crest, a glaringly visible symbol. Through his "Eye of Insight," Logo had already deduced the capabilities of this half-elf druid. A third-tier extraordinary being, with various professions and innate abilities, his combat strength was not to be underestimated. Such prey would never be found in the first-tier zone. Although similar oversights may have occurred in previous years, Logo doubted his luck was so poor.

“And you have your tree guy. Hail Xesar.” “We are no longer affiliated with the previous organisation,” said the druid. “We feel we can offer you a lot of options going forward. Logistics, surveillance, catering. Whatever you need.” “What about fighting?” If there was a military wing of the druid faith, they might actually come in handy. Give the enemy a damn good pruning. The druids looked at me rather apologetically. “No, we don’t really go in for that sort of thing. We try to love everyone.” He glanced towards Xesar with narrow-eyed resentment. “Which isn’t easy.”

Characters: Malric – Xayden and Nox’s Eldest Son and Alpha of the Thunderstorm Pack (23 years old) Draven – Aaron and Rhys’ Eldest Son and King of the Supernatural Kingdom (23 years old) Third Person POV The prodigal son had returned. Not just victorious, but resplendent. A legend forged in flame and war. Malric, Alpha of the Thunderstorm Pack, stood tall and proud … but his heart twisted in his chest.

She knew something wasn’t right, especially after that telling glance. As the conversation lightened, Dragon raised his hand, signaling for attention, and spoke with an air of authority, “There’s something else you should know about werewolves. When mates discover their destined bond, they must spend one night in the Cave of Souls. It’s an ancient place that deepens their connection on a spiritual level. That night grants them a vision of their shared future, binding their hearts in ways that cannot be undone.”

The camp was well-organized and heavily fortified, a testament to the pack's strength and preparedness. In the center of the camp stood a large, imposing tent. The sentinel gestured for them to wait outside while he announced their presence. Moments later, they were ushered inside, where they were met by the Drakkar Alpha, a tall, broad-shouldered man with piercing blue eyes and an air of authority. "I am Alpha Bjorn of the Drakkar pack," he said, his voice resonating with power. "What brings you to my territory?" Marinetta stepped forward, meeting his gaze with determination. "I am Marinetta, second in command of the Montgomery pack. We have come to propose an alliance against Lysander, a p

“The township of Scolven is governed by a drakken, he is one the last few that still remain. Being pretty much dead centre in between the borders of the southern imperial side and the northern region ruled by the godking, he has kept his township neutral, not siding with either ruler. He has surprisingly been able to keep his town in one piece, not war-ravaged or sacked by either side and after one hundred years of constant war, the General of the imperials and the godking have built enough respect for him to allow his rule to override their own while their soldiers are inside of his area of control, which is denoted by a set of bright red crystals that unless one is blind to all cannot miss