The Warp Warhammer Novels & Stories

I asked, and they looked at each other before nodding. “Then Consider them done.” We could still stop this war. I did my calculations based on ten packs. Now that I have only five, there will be a shortage of warriors. I could use Scott’s help when he comes here. Let’s just hope he wanted to be the alpha.

I nodded, “I can do that.” I spent the next hour making ice spears and daggers. Every time I would get a pile of twenty of each, a demon would grab them up and take them outside for me. I asked King Izzoth, “The war is starting, isn’t it?” He nodded, “It is. That would be why it is only you, your Grandma Gaby and me down here. I’m only in here to help you look for targets. After you finish that dagger, let’s get to the windows.” I nodded and finished up the dagger and stood up. He took me to the windows that are directly under my bedroom window. There were four sets of red eyes looking up. I smiled, “Let’s see if I can do this.” I picked up four daggers simultaneously and hurled them as fast

“Anyway, whatever they were doing, hopefully it’s over now, right? He’s dead. And Calder killed his associates when we got out of there. Whatever their plan was, it’s got to be over now.” I hoped. Christ. Take over the world. Hubris, but…fucking terrifying hubris. Hawthorne and company might have been pretty fucking far from doing any such thing, but how much damage could a group of warlocks do on a smaller scale, working toward a goal like that? Strike that, I knew exactly how much damage, because I’d been part of the wreckage left behind. And so had Nate, for that matter.

How could he be certain that something was going to happen? Abruptly, Jaedon stood up. He had been so shy last night, but now he seemed on a mission. He dressed quickly and then told me to dress as well. I did. “We must tell your mother and brother of our plan. We have to tell my pack and warn our allies up North. I think a war is going to happen.” My heart began to race. A war? I dressed quickly in jeans and a sweatshirt and he took my hand in his as soon as I was finished. He kissed me softly on the lips, sending electricity throughout my body.

The page she’s opened to has a title scrawled in ink that glimmers with remnants of ancient wards: THE WHISPER WAR: A Forgotten History of Windborne's Fall. My chest tightens. The name Windborne has been appearing too often lately—in whispers, in scrolls, in dreams and Elen is literally one too. I begin to read aloud. "The Whisper War was the final and most devastating battle in the Age of Splintering. A sentient force, born from the Veil’s deepest tear, rose through the winds, infecting magic-users with madness and despair..." I pause. The ink ripples like it’s alive. I blink and it stills.

He’s just my boss. Sure. He sent a winking emoji, For now. Think of how lovely you’ll look on the front page of a magazine together! I laughed. I could just picture it. Whore and Warhammer Heir: Love, Lust, and Rebellion I grinned as another headline came to mind, imagining him sitting behind the official desk of the Warhammer pack’s alpha and her seated on the desk with little more than her underwear on. Werewolves in Trouble– Warhammer’s Luna A Whore

I’d learned about the second horseman from the textbooks and classes in the Shifters Uni. Warren had come two centuries ago, clad in black armor and riding a red horse, with an god spear strapped behind his back. He’d brought global war, the worst kind, to Earth. After he left, humankind and supernaturals tried to rebuild civilization, but a lot of technology was gone forever. There were no more satellites, and the idea of space travel or any sort of air travel became an unrealistic dream. Magic, however, returned in half-force. That was why the supernaturals traveled through leylines, even though the portals were unstable and dangerous.

"What is your duty? To serve the Emperor's will! What is the Emperor's will? That we fight and die!"—chants from Warhammer 40,000 (videogame) (Content Warning—this chapter contains scenes of graphic violence and gore, reader's discretion is advised.) ** Ides of January, 41 AD The raw cry of—"Traitors!"—ripped through the torch-lit tunnel like a banshee’s wail. “Die!” SWISH THRUST “Urk—”

Chapter 53 The Werewolf Realm The war loomed closer with every passing hour. Across the Werewolf Realm, the tension could be felt in the air—heavy, suffocating, unmistakable. Every race, every pack, every warrior was preparing for Roosevelt's next move. No one knew when he would strike. No one knew how. But everyone knew one thing: Anything could happen. Anytime. The clang of metal echoed through the training fields where blacksmiths worked around the clock, forging armor capable of resisting demonic corrosion. Warriors sparred with renewed desperation. Mages practiced their enchantments until their fingers trembled. Even the winds seemed to whisper the same warning: