Spare Me Great Lord Mal Novels & Stories

“Sprout told me I must be there to help you retrieve the sword.” “Thank goodness I have a human girl with no battle experience here to protect me,” mocked Hayden. “You saw me fall the giant, the Moko Jumbie, Largo,” said Cory. “You will light all of the Doppelgängers on fire then?” Asked Hayden. “I will do what my Prince tells me to do as long as I am with him in the Dale. If I am left outside of the Dale, I will misbehave and get lost most likely,” said Cory innocently.

"I am Zephion. General of Shadows." Finally, the largest creature lowered its massive head, its voice a deep rumble that rattled Killian's armor. "I am Malakar. First General of the Eclipse. Leader of Nyxar's immortal armies." Killian tightened his grip on his glowing sword, his Alpha aura exploding outward in a brilliant aura of defiance. "Then I'll start with you." Malakar laughed, a horrific, booming sound. "Excellent answer, little wolf." Before anyone could make a single move, Seraphina reached the edge of the battlefield. She raised her glowing staff and planted it violently into the frozen earth. "Moon Goddess... hear your daughter!"

"Your Warlord’s reign ends here. Lord Malakor, if you please. Bring me the Alpha." ​The towering Vampire Lord, Malakor, stepped forward. He drew a jagged, serrated greatsword, his crimson eyes locking onto me. ​I tried to push Elara behind me, trying to stand, but she gripped my wet shirt. Her violet eyes were wide, panicked, and entirely unfocused. She wasn't looking at the vampires. She was looking inward.

Caelum, the fallen prince whose kingdom Velis had ground to dust, whose family had died screaming his name. That same boy had carved a path of destruction through Velis's most seasoned killers armed with nothing but chains and desperation. For the first time in living memory, Velis felt something close to disbelief. His mouth opened slightly, then closed, then opened again like a fish gasping for water. The expression sat strangely on features that had been carved by centuries into a mask of perpetual winter. When had a mortal last surprised him? When had anything surprised him? "My lord?" The voice came from behind him, small and uncertain.

I said pulling him in and kissing him all over my face, even with the mask. The child laughed and his arms joined at my neck as I held the basket with daffodils. He was my precious son. I sighed and with Abbadon by our side, walked towards the golden doors with a great sun carved in both. "The sun of the empire, Calisto Bernieri, the first of his name, lord of all demons, ruler of the underworld, emperor of Bernieri, his son, the little sun of the empire, Loren Bernieri Angelov and the third in command of the royal guard, Abbadon, the demon of madness."

Taylor replied tenderly, "but from the moment I first held him, I’ve felt he’ll bring peace to everyone around him. I believe the goddess allowed this legacy to continue because this child has a great purpose. And we’ll be by his side when that time comes." Taylor’s words filled Andriel with warmth. The affection and confidence in Taylor’s voice as he spoke of Malcom touched his heart, though it also stirred a slight worry. Andriel knew great responsibilities often came with great challenges. Yet, the certainty that they’d stand by their son, protecting and guiding him along the path the goddess had set, brought a sense of relief. Together, they would face whatever came.

His gaze found Warner. “My healers will be here soon. They will help.” Warner looked at me. “Prepare another potion. Add a bit more of each herb.” “Okay, Boss.” I turned to leave. The Lycan King's voice stopped me at the threshold. “I am Malakor Ironbound. The Lycan Lord.” I froze, then inclined my head the smallest degree. “Nice to meet you, Your Majesty.” “I am not introducing myself. It’s a warning. Don’t let anyone know about my whereabouts outside. Not even your husband.”

It was named as such because of its apparently enormous body and dangerously sharp mouth. Sir Malieff was one of the more high-positioning regulars of the Red Grace Inn. Supposed to be a respectable from some distant republic, he approached Morante City and carried on with an existence of disengagement in a house close to the motel, refering to his contempt of battle as the fundamental for his leaving his country. He is a man who likes to gather peculiar and unconventional things.

He seemed to weigh his options like a man guessing the depth of a frozen lake before stepping out onto it. Valen didn’t move. He didn’t blink. And that stillness was more terrifying than rage. Malchor lifted his chin slowly. “All I know,” he said, “is that we have no High Lady.” The words hung heavy in the air. Valen’s expression didn’t change. “Then say what she is.” The demand was sharp now, each syllable biting. Silence. And then: “Your mate. Your whore. The one you bed—it’s all the same,” Malchor said with a shrug, like that was the end of it.

I'd been so stupid. "The baby isn't yours," I whispered now, tears streaming down my face as I looked at Damon. "I'm so sorry. I thought... I thought it was. But it's not. It's his. It's Malachar's." Damon's face went white. "Who the hell is Malachar?" Elder Morgana gasped. "No. It can't be. He's been imprisoned for over a thousand years." "Who is he?" Darius demanded.