Targaryen Fire And Blood Novels & Stories

“She needs to die.” His lips curved slightly again, “No,” he said again. “She does not.” My breath hitched, “Then what exactly are you saying?” I demanded. He leaned closer and when he spoke again, his voice dropped to something almost like a whisper. “You should be aware that she is a Blood Anchor, that means, she is not something to be destroyed.” "Her blood is meant to be put into good use, not destroyed." My stomach dropped as a cold realization crept in slowly.

He added quickly, angrily, as if hating the softness in himself: “Don’t make me regret it.” Then he turned away, leaving Elara with the unspoken truth burning between them— The Fire King was not cold. He was burning too hot to touch.

“Stop acting cool. You are one of the enemies I have, and you know that.” Before I could say more than one word, I felt a surge of energy in me. I shut my eyes as I was unable to get over it. It was stronger than that of a beta like him. “I felt this surge of energy when I woke up in the hospital. It's an Alpha energy and not a Beta." I thought and opened my eyes. “I believed it was Prince Kelvin—and Tyrion is a Beta and not an Alpha.” I blinked as he took away his palm from my body….his perspirations dropping on the floor.

“I admit it. I had tampered with your car. “This championship meant nothing to you, but Jack is about to retire, and this was his final chance. “Once the race is over, I’ll marry you to make it up to you. Is that all right?” Before I died, I never would have thought that Alanna Johnson would agree to marry me. But it was too late. The out-of-control car plummeted hundreds of meters, and the moment it struck the sea, darkness claimed me.

I whispered. I watched in awe and terror as his fur bristled, his muscles bulging with raw strength. With a mighty leap, he bounded through the engulfed doorway, disappearing into the flames. My heart clenched with a mixture of anguish and hope as I prayed for his safety, for his ability to navigate the treacherous inferno. "No! Tyrion! " Ava screamed behind me. Time stood still as the fire continued to rage, its crackling fury drowning out all other sounds. I paced anxiously, my hands clasped together in desperate supplication. Tears welled in my eyes as I whispered fervent prayers for Alpha Tyrion's protection, for his safe return.

Their eyes were the same—golden, ancient, and as if bowing to blood older than their own. They bowed their heads and howled loudly. The long howl broke and echoed, making my heart tremble to the bone. Father stood tall with pride. And I could see that Alpha George was staring at me without looking away for even a second. The elder continued. "The heir of Carpathian will light the Fire of Lineage." I blinked rapidly, not understanding. "What fire?" Alpha George approached, his voice low and warm. "A fire that only burns if your blood is pure. If you are not the heir, then the fire will consume you."

Emberflame. It had not been an ordinary fire. It had been lineage-bound. Glimmering gold, sovereign-defined flame that answered only to blood and crown. It had lived in the marrow of their queen, threaded through her veins like molten inheritance. When she fell—when he had watched her flame gutter and collapse into ash beneath a sky choked with cinders—the Emberflame had died with her. Not weakened. Not scattered. Extinguished entirely. He had felt that ending in his bones, a severing that rippled through the battlefield like the snapping of a divine tether.

Zale's mother paused and looked at grandpapa saying that he should the one to say it. "It was to gather the heirs of each throne. The heir of the Fire's Throne, Seraphina Agni, the heir of the Ocean's throne, Zale Altan. The two of you who are together meaning that you are about to be completed." He said. I am the heir of the Fire's throne, a title that holds so much power. It's like next to being a God. Zale patted my shoulder and nodded at me. I looked at the scenery, there is nothing to see but the vast ocean. I sighed.

She drank de Descendants of the ancient kings and queens of Qarth, the Pureborn commanded the Civic Guard and the fleet of ornate galleys that ruled the straits between the seas. Daenerys Targaryen had wanted that fleet, or part of it, and some of their soldiers as well. She made the traditional sacrifice in the Temple of Memory, offered the traditional bribe to the Keeper of the Long List, sent the traditional persimmon to the Opener of the Door, and finally received the traditional blue silk slippers summoning her to the Hall of a Thousand Thron

A gust of hot wind stirred the room. Then the book stopped. Red ink scrawled across thick parchment. Nyra’s finger traced the title aloud. “The Forest of Undying Flame.” Azric exhaled like he’d been punched. Nyra looked straight at me. “Your fire was never the source, Valkhara. That’s what they want you to believe. But your bloodline… it predates flame.” Daxos frowned. “What does that mean?” Nyra turned the book so we could see the page.