Theon Greyjoy Novels & Stories

Has she cast a spell on you? Relax! Stop! Pleaded Cory, putting her palms up. I’m fine. I just… She trailed off, unsure of how to explain what had happened. That Stormbringer over there, she said, nodding to the ash brown one who was a few yards away. He’s the one with green eyes and brown hair. He’s some kind of leader over the others and he…he helped us, remember? He knocked into one of the other beasts before it could pounce one me, she reminded Hayden.

I asked. Rivyn looked down at me with a frown. “Don’t talk, Siorin,” he said softly. “You will just make your mouth bleed.” He walked into the centre of the courtyard where one figure remained stationary, overlooking the chaos. “I have what I’m after, Gryndren. I’ll leave you and Aurien to do what you will.” “It is a good day,” Gryndren declared. She was a tall woman, regal in demeanour, her skin and hair almost bleached white in colour and her eyes like black stones, the pupils lost against the darkness. “Our blades run red with the blood of mankind.”

He explains. "Right.." I say shifting on my feet nervously. I'm about to ask him another question when my wolf suddenly starts howling inside of me and I feel a sharp pain in my stomach and my head and everywhere. 'Wolfsbane!!' Morgan exclaims from inside of me and I suddenly feel disconnected from her. I feel a sensation like she's slipping away from me but I can still faintly feel her. "Morgana?" Reece says my name and I let out an excruciating scream because the pain just got worse and I don't think I can sense my wolf anymore.

After a short while of silence, the owner of Eden Joy snarled, “What did you say!? Adalon is dead!? Guardian Trade, are you certain you know what you’re talking about?” Cold beads of sweat were oozing from Guardian Trade’s forehead as he replied bitterly, “Master, Master Gray is dead. I’m not lying. He’s killed by a young man called Kayson.”

After a short while of silence, the owner of Eden Joy snarled, “What did you say!? Adalon is dead!? Guardian Trade, are you certain you know what you’re talking about?” Cold beads of sweat were oozing from Guardian Trade’s forehead as he replied bitterly, “Master, Master Gray is dead. I’m not lying. He’s killed by a young man called Kayson.”

His face was pale, his eyes wide with terror. "Elara, " he gasped. Blood began to seep from a wound beneath his ribs. "Do not trust the Council. The Rogues... They did not just infiltrate Blackwood." Kaelen stumbled forward, collapsing into her arms. Over his shoulder, Elara saw the doors of the Terrace slam shut. The sound of locks clicking into place was loud. From the shadows of the Great Hall, a figure emerged. It was Alpha Thorne of the Iron-Claws.. His eyes were not gray anymore. They were glowing with a green light.

I wore simple black training clothes and a pair of thick leather gloves that ran all the way up my forearms. Perched securely on my left arm was Ghost, a magnificent, white snow hawk with talons that could slice through bone and eyes as sharp as frozen ice blades. This ridge was the only place in the entire territory where the heavy motion of the kingdom finally fell silent, where the beast inside my chest could simply exist without needing to growl at a traitor. “You're late,” a deep, rumbling voice echoed from the shadow of the stone mews. Thorne stepped out onto the matching my simple training gear, a second leather gauntlet already strapped to his arm. He didn't offer a stiff, formal bow

Verias gave a slow evil smile. “What are we doing?” A low rumbling voice asked from behind them. Making both of them whip around and strike a defensive pose. They spotted Jackson Gray crouched in the high grass. His gold armor glinting amongst the wheat and wildflowers. His blue cloak calmly waving out behind him. Parting the meadow beyond him. His blonde hair shimmering like captured moonlight and his piercing blue eyes set on them disdainfully. The hard expression on his face was a distinct clue to his intention. He looked like death itself had arrived to collect them.

Several large, spinning, iron-like objects appear on a collision course—luminous blue plasma trails follow in their wake. “There!” Ingoran shouts. All I can see is a minuscule hole in the wall of the approaching Armageddon. “There’s a gap, the eye of the storm.” He fights the controls to realign us towards the pocket. “Power to port,” he orders our engineer Ashmor, who immediately punches the command into the console. I watch as though in slow motion as we edge closer to the void. The distance between the two approaching asteroid streams begins to widen. The seconds tick away; I think of my mother in the farmlands back home, the anguish etched into her face as security led me away to train f

He did feel, however, that they now had a much better chance of reaching the Dwarves in relative safety. The rain was less oppressive as that thought cheered him. Ghaeron carefully swept the terrain below with his sharp Draconic vision. The mountainous country was thick with forests, obscuring even his remarkable sight in places. He had been flying over the wide lands for days. This day he was sweeping across the western edge of the Haedral Mountains. There had been little out of the ordinary. Humans going about their daily business, farming and trading. At one point he felt a surge in his mystical awareness, and he noted a small group of Black Knights far below. His keen vision allowed him