Road To Valhalla Novels & Stories

Jidana was going to deactivate the Wing Regalia when Kariya had one more question. “How many roads are there.” He asked. “Many roads of every element and they all have three levels, take this one for example, this is the Wing Road, next is the Storm Road and finally the Sky Road. ’So we are on level?” asked Kariya. “That we are.” Jidana replied. “I see.” Said Kariya in a low voice. Yep.” “How do you get to the next level?” asked Kariya sounding more interested than before. “you must master the Wing Road and defeat the king of the road in battle or complete a set of tests, then you go on to the next path if you chose to.”

As Dev’s train pulled into the crossroad that evening, the beautiful mouth-watering aroma of a delicious curry floated in through the bars, one that immediately reminded him of home and of his mother’s cooking. His taste buds tingled as it strongly brought to mind that divine, crispy, golden bhature and tangy chole masala he had two weeks ago when he had visited his mom. There were many households in that area and it was hard to pinpoint where exactly it was coming from, that is, until, the train stopped right across Bhoomika’s house.

Matt looked at Calla with a questionable look. “He is asking you” “Gamma, if there is anything I can contribute, it will be how we can penetrate without using the real route. That is if we want to sneakily take out Ms. Harper out,” “Do you know the route properly?” Calla asked “Yes, it is where we used to be when the project Gamma James mentioned was ongoing.” Matt explained. “Can you describe the route? Let's see if it works.” James said. “It is a turning point about 500m to the new ladies warriors campsite. There is a building there that leads directly to the Bloodfang Pack although it doesn't look like it. The road is underneath the house,”

It was represented by a knot of tangled, blackened wire, so dense it looked like a scar. “This is what we know,” the Forgemaster said, her finger tracing a thin, red thread that led from the Rust Plains towards the black knot. “This is the Iron Road. It is the only supply route to the Citadel. Everything they need, food, raw materials, new… recruits… travels this road. It is heavily guarded.” “So we avoid the road,” Ronan said. “There is no other way,” Corvus said, speaking for the first time since they’d entered. “The lands around are the Blasted Fields. The earth is poisoned from their old industry. Nothing grows. Nothing lives. It is a killing ground. The road is the only path.”

“Don...that’s drunk driving!” “Drunk driving?” he hissed, eyes blazing with bloodshot fury. “Fuck the rules. I only want Aria.” The engine howled. He pushed the car past its limits, racing through empty roads until the world blurred into nothing. At the edge of the wilderness, he finally braked. And his shoulders shook. And the Don...the man who could raze empires...broke down and cried.

I lowered my gaze to the new studio contract on the table. The address was in the south of the city, by the river, a place where fog gathered more often than not. "I've paid my share too." … On opening day, Tristan came. He did not come inside. He only stood across the street, holding a paper bag. "Do you want to go over?" Wyatt asked. I shook my head. Not long after, the front desk brought up a package. Inside was the repaired fog lamp, and the line "Come home when the fog clears" on the base had been re-engraved.

“You absolutely have a face. That is your I am about to do something horrifying and explain it badly face.” Ben nodded. “I have seen it before.” Eli leaned around Mara. “I think we should hear the plan.” “You are fifteen,” Mara snapped. “Almost sixteen.” “If you say that one more time, I will let Black Hollow raise you.” He shut his mouth. I looked back at Cassian. “What is the old throne road exactly?” He did not answer quickly. Of course. The hesitation alone made the room colder. “It was once a passage between the Lycan throne and the borderlands,” he said. “Kings used it during war. Queens used it during coronations. The dead used it when their bodies could not be returned.”

I ask, my voice dropping to a deadly, quiet register. "One last run," he says. His smirk turns feral. "The old ridge road. Just you, me, and the asphalt. You win, and I smash this drive. I let you keep your perfect little life. I lose, and I get the agency contact info. Plus, you walk away from the championship game next week. Let everyone see you crawl." The ridge road. It's a notorious, unlit stretch of highway outside the city limits, full of blind hairpin turns and sheer drops. Two years ago, a kid from a rival school flipped his car there. He never walked again. It's a death trap.

**DRAKONHELM** From the vantage point of the low rise, George could see the Jagged Pass, a narrow road between two shoulders of rock. Wagons crawled along it like beetles, tiny against the cliffs, their canvas tops pale in the winter light. “The pass is our spine,” Varos Dane was saying. “Without it, Drakonhelm would bend to every wind.” He sat his horse with the ease of a long habit, his dark cloak drawn close against the chill.

I quickly scan the paper map for Roadhouse Peak. “Oh, God,” I whisper, staring at the map. “It’s right here.” I look out the window as more cars turn into the path. I glance across the main road at the hopeless towing efforts still going on. Drivers have begun honking their horns in a chorus of frustration. I double-check the map one more time and realize that the Roadhouse Peak drive actually loops straight around the hill. It cuts directly back toward the airport highway. It’s a shortcut. Easing my car out of the stagnant line, I merge behind a black Cadillac Escalade.