Rivendell Novels & Stories

She found herself drawn to an ancient oak tree, a place where whispers of magic seemed to dance on the breeze. As Aline gazed at the tree, a soft voice echoed in her mind, a voice that seemed to resonate with the very essence of the forest. "Luna Lilith," it murmured, a gentle caress against her thoughts. Startled, Aline looked around, her heart pounding in her chest. She couldn't see anyone, yet the voice seemed to echo from all directions. "Luna Lilith," the voice repeated, its timbre like a lullaby. "You hold the power of your ancestors within you, a power that can shape destinies and mend broken bonds."

“A place where we can regroup and plan the next step. Somewhere the Kingdom won’t expect.” Vulwin’s lips twitched, almost a smirk, though there was no humor in his expression. “I know a place,” he said. “Old tunnels beneath the Eastern cliffs. Narrow, treacherous, but secure. No one—no Dark Elf—has ever found it. It will hold us until we decide our next move.”

Emberfall’s rich green began to thin at the edges, giving way to a strange stretch of pale grass, silver shrubs, and stones that looked misted even under sunlight. Veilreach. The neutral land. It looked quiet from above. Too quiet. A place meant to separate worlds. A place that belonged fully to neither side. The air over it shimmered faintly, and beyond it, I saw something that made my heart stutter. A meadow. Not from memory. Real. Visible through a thinning veil of power. Vandwood’s meadow.

Description: An enigmatic figure who appears in dreams and visions, guiding Aria and Valen toward their fate while keeping the full truth hidden chapter 1 The night air was heavy with the scent of iron and damp earth. The village of Elden Hollow, nestled deep within the shadow of the great Northern Ridge, had always been quiet during the Blood Moon—a time when even the most superstitious farmers locked their doors and whispered prayers to forgotten gods. But tonight, silence was broken by screams.

“We don’t even know where the hell it is.” Myrra folded her arms, smirking. “Don’t we?” She stepped toward the crumbling shelves, brushing dust off an aged scroll. With careful hands, she unraveled the brittle parchment, revealing an intricate map. The ink was faded, but the details remained intact—mountains, rivers, long-forgotten cities. And there, marked in the deep south beyond the Vale of Shadows, was a name that made Elior’s breath catch in his throat. Dawnfire.

The Verdant Hollow’s library is a labyrinth of living shelves, vines curling around ancient tomes and crystalline tablets that hum with stored knowledge. Moonlight filters through a domed ceiling of translucent stone, casting silver patterns across the floor. My crescent mark pulses in rhythm with the sanctuary’s heartbeat, grounding me as I sit at a rune-etched table, surrounded by texts Sylvara deemed essential for understanding the First Ones’ rituals. Cassia lounges nearby, her fiery aura a low glow as she flips through a scroll, muttering about “overcomplicated Veil nonsense.” Renn, the Tideborn courier, hovers at the table’s edge, sorting reports from the eastern rift with a nervous en

But I wasn’t ready for sleep, not when the past had started whispering again. Redwood. The name had appeared too many times in my search for Isolde Vale. It was simply another pack district, rich, secretive, in the very depths of the northern woodland. But I had seen too much of the world to believe that the smoothest spots were always the worst. The cursor was impatiently flicking at the top of the screen as I scrolled up and down the access keys. The data servers of the Council were not as complicated as most people thought if you know what names to whisper and what passwords to revive.

Violet “ V, you have been searching non-stop without letting it go, he doesn't have any digital footprint, he is clean and your investigator already called, he will get back to you,” Rochelle said. “Maybe I should just run away,” I said turning to Rochelle “Your dad will find you in less than an hour, besides just get the engagement sorted out then you figure out what to do before the wedding.” Rochelle kept talking but I was already up picking up my things.

I tug at the top of my hoodie, pulling it further down over my head as I weave my way through the smelly humans. Once I reach the building Zander directed me to, a small sigh escapes my lips with relief. According to Zander, this place was an apartment complex which was originally built by a witch, and it was passed down through the generations. They didn’t usually accept wolves, but he’d put in a good word, and me having the rent in cash didn’t hurt either.

Far beyond the high, jagged cliffs of the Eastern Ridge lay the Iron Wastes—a dark, cold land where the sun rarely broke through the heavy grey clouds. Sitting in the heart of this harsh terrain was the Obsidian Citadel, the towering stronghold of the House of Veyrath. Its massive stone walls were carved directly into the dark mountain rock, jagged, raw, and imposing. Unlike the lush, green valleys of Midnight or the pine forests of Red Claw, no green trees or fresh flowers grew here. The frozen ground was littered with black ash, and the biting mountain wind carried a heavy, metallic draft. The air itself hummed with a cold, unnatural magic that made every ordinary wolf’s stomach churn with