Stormlight Archive Elhokar Novels & Stories

I scoffed a bit frustrated, Sebastian and his mind games “What’s the fun if I tell you everything “Sebastian chuckled “Turn left over there” I shook my head as I followed his instructions. We entered a tarmac road and drove for a couple of minutes before I reached a certain whitewashed house. When we were almost reaching, Sebastian was like an ant with its tail on hot embers “How is my hair?” he asked turning the rearview mirror to his face “Blonde” I replied flatly “I know…is it decent?” “Relax “I patted his back “no matter how decent or blonde your hair is, whatever that is inside your heart is what counts the most” I added recalling some saying I saw on our television from a certain monk.

she said, finding my confused gaze again. "Aaron? But their nests are impossible to find. Not unless... light have mercy," I said, feeling like I'd been punched in the chest. "We're gonna go," Lills mumbled, getting to her feet. I nodded, too lost for words to find the one's that would make her stay. Scorchers were dangerous, a militia that stood outside the rules and laws the rest of us lived by. They were those who'd committed their lives to the destruction of every non human creature beyond the borders of the Diarna, the furthest mining town in the south. They married their work and bred for numbers. They were smart, strong and loyal to a fault and would rather see our entire world blaze

she replied, Rashkov held the bar of blood in His arm as he got closer, the other elders who watched their steps as elementals stared at them in silent suspicion surrounded terra, "How may we help?" Elder diatele asked, Terra stared at them and understood their plight, they had lost some of their respect among the elemental community and wanted to salvage what they could from the wreckage of lagroks’ betrayal, Terra handed the jar to zarae and stepped towards the platform of the rock as elementals gathered to hear what she wanted to say, "Today we witnessed a betrayal of the greatest form" she started, "An elder, the embodiment of the god vulrak, the leader of the flame race" she continued a

“If you confront him now, he won’t recognize you. And he won’t hold back.” Elara’s eyes flared gold. “Then I’ll carve myself into his memory.” They moved quickly. Rhys and Lyra formed a strike path through the Citadel’s lower halls, while Elara stormed through the main arch—each step echoing with fury. She climbed the spire, heart hammering, blade humming with resonance. The prophecy's last threads pulled tighter with every breath. Lightning cracked as she reached the summit. And there he stood, Lerder. Cloaked in obsidian armor. A crown hovering above his head, dripping with black fire.

But he would take his revenge on the murderer who ruthlessly killed Ayil and Azahel. Then he recognized Elohim, drinking with Israfil—the newly appointed ruler of Argia. The two were celebrating, maybe because the war had ended. They were beside the ruins of an obelisk. Elohim gaped when he noticed him, particularly to his bloody hands holding the dagger. “Sire, you’re back!” Elohim raised his glass, and for some reason, his hand quivered. Airoh inhaled deeply, and for a moment, he went still. But his blood boiled in hatred when the smell of his twins lingered in Elohim’s body.

Old magic, old oaths. He smiled—dark and grim. “Found you.” The Storm Returns Back at the fortress, Elaria stood in the council chamber alone. The maps lay open again, ink smudged from her hands. Outside, thunder cracked. She looked toward the window and whispered, “Don’t die out there.” And somewhere beyond the horizon, where lightning danced across the ridge, Draven’s blade caught the light—silver in the rain—his promise to her burning like fire in the dark.

The room falling into silence around us. My eyes drift to his, his fiery orbs seem to look into the depths of my soul, like he could read every secret, both dark and light that resides there. A knowing smile spread on his face, momentarily lighting his handsome face before his expression returned to one of casual indifference, as if they were only discussing the weather. He moves his gaze to rest on my uncle, before he whispers into my ear. “Perhaps you may be entitled to the role of Princess of the Underworld after all.” With his last words playing in her ears, he moves back to sit in his chair. Falling into conversation with the man sat next to Lucas, who I have now found out is Malphas, L

- she pointed at the guests. At the same time Selene finally looked at their faces. One of the men seemed familiar to her. -"That's the same dark haired guy from the cafe!"- she suddenly realized. The boy also looked at her surprised, but he was clearly pleased with this coincidence. - Let me introduce everyone to you one by one.- Meredith walked slowly towards the guests. First, she approached a woman with shoulder length, brown hair, green eyes, athletic body and medium height.- This is the Head of the Council of Sorceresses, Elisabeth Spelling. She is two thousand one hundred years old, her additional gift is the ability to manipulate emotions. She leads the Council and makes sure that ev

The library keeper stared. Alaric stared back. Then both of them laughed simultaneously. The crew exchanged confused looks. Hope pointed dramatically. Again. "You know each other." Elowen shook her head. "Not exactly." Alaric nodded. "Only through stories." Which somehow made perfect sense. And no sense at all. The First Light apparently operated according to very specific rules. Alaric approached the dock. Slowly. Carefully. His eyes never left Elowen. "You preserved them." Silence.

He would often pause, his ears swiveling, a low rumble in his chest that warned Elara to tread with caution. Their first significant encounter was with the Sunstone Pack, a relatively small but fiercely independent group known for their skilled hunters and their deep connection to the earth. Their Alpha, a grizzled elder named Borin, greeted them not with open hostility, but with a profound wariness that Elara felt like a physical weight. They met in a clearing bathed in the pale light of dawn, the air thick with the scent of pine and the unspoken tension of the unspoken. Borin’s eyes, the color of amber, held generations of distrust, and the whispers of the Serpent’s Coil and the Crimson Fa