Roger His Dark Materials Novels & Stories

Sinclair I storm down the hallway on my way to the meeting, but I’m gratified to see Roger waiting there for me at the door, leaning against the wall. I nod to him, not breaking my stride, but he falls in with me as we head inside. “So, what’d you bring?” Roger asks, his voice serious. “What?” I ask, half turning to him in my confusion. “To kill the prince,” Roger says, his face deadpan. “Like a gun, or something more dramatic like a morning star? Or are you just going to like, tear him limb from limb –“

The royals were still mingling and discussing when I finally spotted Roger. He was standing near the grand archway, speaking with another man, shaking hands. I didn’t stop to think. I ran straight into him, crashing into his chest. “Please, help me!” I gasped, gripping his arm like it was the only thing keeping me. “They’ll find me! Please!” Roger growled fiercely and drew me behind him, his hair was on end and his teeth began to elongated. I could see the signs of his transformation. “What’s going on?” he growled wildly, “Who’s after you?”

lycans, we tried to run, but they cornered us and then you saw everything that happened. When I saw you in that place, all that I wanted was to protect you, I wanted to get you out of that dirty place, full of death, I didn’t want you to see me that way. But you were so scared that you ended up getting into labor before time, I could have never imagined I was going to be the cause of so much pain, because of that fright our son didn’t make it, all that I wanted was to be a normal man, was to be able to have a perfect girl, a family, to love and protect the woman I love, I love you, Maggie, I never wanted to hurt you, to wound you, but it seems that everything I touch it breaks, it’s like Pa

He narrowed his eyes. “Then talk. Quickly. I despise useless chatter.” I leaned forward, steepling my fingers. “It's about someone you’re familiar with.” His irritation slipped—just slightly. “Familiar with?” “Yes,” I smirked. “Mia Esbond.” Silence. Then Roger’s eyes darkened completely. Every muscle in his jaw tightened. “My niece,” he murmured. “Your dear niece,” I corrected. “And she’s here in Thornveil.” Roger didn’t say anything at first. He just stared at me, and the dragon behind him exhaled a stream of smoke that nearly set the carpet ablaze.

“Eventually, he’ll die, but my primary focus is helping Tatiana heal. In the meantime, we make this fucker suffer.” The way Roger’s gaze darkens tells me he likes the idea more than ever, but I have to wonder what percentage of what he’s saying is true. Sure, he doesn’t want Christopher to do this to someone else, but I fully believe he wants to paint the streets with his blood for a very different reason. Is it possible Roger cares deeper for Tatiana than I may have thought? I shake the thought away. No, Roger and Tatiana despise each other. This is revenge, plain and simple.

A disembodied voice echoed from within the dark fire—ancient, freezing cold, and dripping with mockery. > "You interfere too much, Archivist." > The silver-haired man simply smiled back at the flames. "And you interfere far too little." The dark voice let out a chilling laugh that rattled the surrounding bookshelves. > "Soon... the Seven Thrones will awaken. And when they do... even your precious Last King will fall." > The black flames abruptly snapped out of existence, and the library fell back into its eerie, profound silence. The Archivist turned his gaze toward the distant, unseen horizon where the Blackthorn Kingdom lay. His expression grew deeply thoughtful.

"That would be true if spoken conversations were the only way to truly know a person." Roderick snorted again, but I ignored him this time and kept my eyes on his mother. "So while I may not know every single detail about Prince Draven....I know enough." For a second, the Queen's perfect regal mask cracked before she managed to pull off another bright smile.

Four minutes. The room somehow seemed darker than normal. It was even worse than when the window got smashed and was boarded up with planks of wood for weeks. Adira remembered the way Brax would move around the room, chasing the minimal light let in by the board’s cracks. It wasn’t a lot but it was something at least. Back then, the slightest sliver of light felt like a privilege, a blessing among the darkness both physical and spiritual that consumed them.

"Unfortunately, being a creation of a lesser God made Raguel not immune to defeat. He met his match when he encountered the dangerous werewolf tyrant, Crustblood the Terrible, a descendant of Argo who was also a powerful wizard. Crustblood's wolf, Draven, was a strong and cunning creature. During the battle, Draven deceived Raguel, by pretending he had lost and was lying helpless on the ground. As Raguel approached him, Draven used forbidden magic and devoured the lesser deity. This act instantly endowed Draven with immense power and a desire for independence, establishing his own will. He trapped his human in the depths of his mind and consumed his soul as well. "Draven transformed into a l

"I summon thee, Azserroke, Demon of darkness. I ask for a trade. Take this life and trade it for that of Isabell Grey. Unite her body, mind, and soul once again. Bring them here to me." The runes glowed green again. The gasses in the jars broke, releasing scents of marshmallows and smoky ash into the air. Matei's mouth opened, the darkness from him seeped out of his body as his golden sliver of a soul rose out of his silent scream. As soon as the darkness left him, his horrified scream filled my ears. I clamped my hands to my ears. The forest flickered with darkness. Matei's body fell into a heap. The body vanished for a single instant and was replaced by one in white scrubs and dark hair. T