Novelas y relatos de Melkor

Eva Fenrir— The Primordial Wolf, Sköll— The Sun Hunter, Hati— The Moon Hunter, Fenris Graymane— Tribal Elder: Keeper of the Lore, Thiess the Sentinel— Heroic Defender, Remnar Monteal—Tragic Werewolf. My index finger paused, looming over the name. Remnar Monteal. Could Monteal mean the same Monteal I know? The names were carved into the deep-mahogany page of a weighted book I had struggled to open initially.

Then asked quietly “What am I called?” I hesitated. Because naming something… Made it real. Made it part of the world. But it already was. I stepped forward. “You’re not a Devourer anymore.” It listened carefully. “You’re not just balance either.” Its eyes flickered. “Then what am I?” I met its gaze. “You’re Eryndor.” The name settled into the air. And reality accepted it. ************************************************* Eryndor turned toward the swarm. And slowly

​Standing beneath the pulsating beam of dark energy was Grand Archon Malakor-Prime. ​He was a terrifying sight: eight feet tall, clad in jagged armor forged from abyss-steel and void-crystal. His eyes were twin pools of endless black void, and in his right hand he held a massive, double-headed halberd that dripped with corrupted anti-mana. ​"So," Malakor-Prime rasped, his voice sounding like grinding stone. "The High Sovereign of Drakenhold and his calculating Empress have come to witness the end of their realm."

She saw the way he took a breath and relaxed then knocked on the door once with a solid rap. “Dovimax Phyleon, I would be grateful for assistance if you are able to give it. I’m here with Hel bringer of Ragnorak who also requests assistance.” He was speaking elvish but Hel understood. Just like her other siblings she could understand many languages and form of communication after being exposed to it. She raised an eyebrow. Was that his real name? She kind of liked how it rolled off the tongue.

What if it was true and not just some wild thought “Then I’ll pick you up jeez, you won’t even waste your car’s fuel” Rumors have it that if your blood is mutated, you get killed at night and your body is never found. I jumped up in fright after reading that, what if I’m mutated and I get killed “I’m having none of this” I whispered “Dude really?” I heard Sebastian grumble. I then remembered that I was speaking to someone on the phone “Uhm, you were saying?” I asked in an apologetic tone

He says gazing at me intensely. "What do you mean? Aren't you listening to me?" I ask him. "Trust me Morgana. Once you get your wolf, I'm the only one you'll be able to think about. This human boyfriend of yours won't even matter." He says firmly. "His name is Charles. Besides, we can always break the mate bond right?" I state "OUT OF THE QUESTION!" He says with a growl, his voice sounding authoritative and a shiver runs down my spine.

my father questioned. “Because we need to save my mother first. Our enemy is a bigger deal than we could’ve ever imagined,” she replied. King Aragon turned to King Brennus, shooting him a look. “Carlton is Eligor.” “As in the dark wizard from Advalur?” my grandfather asked. “The very one,” King Brennus confirmed. “How is that possible?” my father asked.

Morrigan’s voice is overlaid with mine, but there is another tenor, the magic. “I am Emlyn Gunnar-Holstin, Guardian of the Realm, mate of Richard Holstin, Luna of the Shadow Falls Pack. You have unlawfully and willfully attacked my pack. You attacked my families’ packs in an attempt to murder the Guardians. But, know this. The Guardians are not so easily defeated. For your actions, all of you will die.”

Yet they both understood it. In the end, Luca turned away. “Fine,” he said hoarsely. “But if my father goes too far… I will not just watch from the sides.” ****** Arlen sensed it before he saw him. The aura of a beast-man with the touch of malice. When he turned, Theoden stood alone across the ruined ground, his countenance empty yet relaxed. Arlen glanced below. In his hand gleamed a blade oozing of dark energy. Only Theoden could mask such a weapon of destruction and pass it off as something pure and holy to the naked eye.

She had told him about their scary and terrifying figures and their names. The one who was a tall and had gaunt figure with sunken eyes that glowed like smoldering coals was named Morgrath. Her black robes hung loosely around her skeletal frame, giving her an air of ethereal menace. Morgrath was a master of necromancy, capable of commanding the spirits of the departed to do her bidding. Seraphina had told him was said that she wore jewellery made out of the bones and cursed artifacts, which were remnants of her twisted experiments.