Sword Of The Dawn Novel 소설 & 이야기

The girl obeyed, only pausing to grab the little carving of her mother from the shelf. Wrenlow pulled back the rug, opened the hatch, and kissed Dawn’s forehead quickly before closing her inside the crawlspace beneath the kitchen. From below, Dawn could still smell the stew. Still feel safe. But above? BOOM— The front door exploded inward, kicked off its hinges. Wood splinters flew into the stewpot. The first soldier who came in was broad-shouldered with eyes gleaming wickedly behind a scent-mask. The second had a leash in hand already.

CHAPTER 60: DAWN Peter and I danced and had fun. He got us some soft drinks and we enjoyed the event till day break. We talked about lots of things enjoying each others company till it was time to leave. Peter will spend the new year with his grandmother so he left London that morning. My mother fried some sweet potatoes known as potatoe chips and complemented it with a meat sauce. According to her, the new year will usher us into bountiful yeilds. We sat on the mat in our room. My mother, Osifa, K**i, Tami and I formed a circle while we ate the delicious potato chips and sauce. While we ate, we joked, laughed and drank the soft drinks my mother had kept for us in her fridge at the bar which

Dawson said to me, as he rushes over to my side. “You have to distract it with your magic. Try to create an illusion in its mind and I will aim for the perfect spot to kill” It was a perfect idea. I touched my golden necklace to realize that it was glowing heavily. “Lets do this” I said and latched unto his hand and got up to my feet. I picked the sword from his hand and Dawson rushed for the attack. The Wyvern was also running towards its direction, ready to force a blow with its mouth. I closed my eyes and allowed the environment drown in silent.

The sword, my armor, and my wings all emanated white and rainbow light as I held fast against the black flame. As the flame died out, I lifted my armored head. The dragon's golden eyes blinked at me, almost surprised I was still standing. It raised its head for another large breath. The first shimmers of morning sun started to light the sky. I dove forward, or rather, I was dragged forward by the sword. The blade plunged into the breast of the beast.

The Solarion hums deep in the bones of the Sanctum, drinking suns to rip the heavens open at my word. Soon. Three days—no, less. Soon I will hold a weapon fit for gods. Soon Kael will see what his absence made of me. And when he does, he will not find the girl who once loved him. He will find the light that devours worlds. For I am Solara. The last dawn. The fire that breaks empires. And the sky has already begun to burn.

Dawn jumps into the fray, tearing the rogues apart with the help of the still standing, but now bleeding, warrior. ‘Get your friend to the hospital, and get those wounds checked out!’ I order the warrior as the last rogue falls to the ground as Dawn lets him go after destroying him and almost severing his head from his body. Someone teleports out of the blue, and Dawn immediately puts herself between the person and her pack members, growling lowly and crouching down, ready to strike.

Chapter 60 As the sun falls into the horizon, the people, or should I say the werewolves, of the town of Dusk and Dawn starts to gather at our place. Tonight the alpha’s madness will end. Tonight, everything will be more normal and free. No more threats and darkness. Only good, light, and life.

"The tiltyard. An hour before dawn." Without another word, she collected the swords and walked past him, her stride eating up the garden path. He didn't turn to watch her go. He stood in the mist, feeling the residual warmth of her grip on the sword hilt, and the unsettling sense that the carefully ordered chessboard of his life had just been swept clean, replaced by a game with rules he did not yet know. --- The "old tiltyard" was a forgotten rectangle of packed earth between the mossy back of the armory and the high, blank wall of the monastery. Weeds pushed through the cracks in the viewing stands. It smelled of damp stone, old hay, and solitude.

His presence at that time did not feel like he was present, at all. Victoria, on the other hand, had a plan, it appeared. “You know, Julia, you started it,” Victoria teased, looking away from the young man. You can just see the rage bait like the colour red, but Julia, apparently, didn't see it. “I did not mean to.” She defended. “You also know that Lana literally threw the first weapon, right?” Craig asked, joining in. “It was a calendar.” Lana said, with a tone of finality. “It flew,” Craig added helpfully. “That qualifies as a weapon.”

But they die unspoken as Dawn's breath hitches in her unconscious state, her head lolling against my brother's shoulder. "Bring her here." Liora's voice cuts through my rage-fog, practical and urgent. I hadn't noticed her arrive, but the half-fae healer stands beside the massive oak table, sweeping scrolls and maps to the floor with one efficient movement. "Now, Rain." My brother strides forward, laying Dawn upon the cleared surface with a gentleness I rarely see from him. Her arms fall limply to her sides, fingers curled slightly inward like wilting flower petals. The dragon tattoo between her shoulder blades—visible through her torn shirt—pulses with fading light, its magic dimming with ea