Wall-knight Novels & Stories

The Shadow Knight pressed his advantage. "The forgotten surrendered identity to escape pain. I maintain identity precisely because of pain. The Council's crimes have names. Their victims had names. Justice requires this specificity." He reached into his essence where the Soulstone resided, drawing forth power that responded to his focused will. Shadows coalesced around him, hardening into armour that protected not merely transformed flesh but the core of identity itself. "I am the Shadow Knight. Once Kaelen Dawnblade. Bearer of the Soulstone. Enemy of the corrupt Council. Avenger of the murdered innocents. I claim these names and purposes. I reject oblivion's comfort."

Walter glared at him. “I'm here now, Wayne. I'm not leaving. Summer camp or not.” Olive rubbed her temples. “Knights,” she exhaled loudly. Walter laughed and Wayne actually smiled before he began to eat again. *** “Mufasa, Lutz I need you to develop something that'll make our armies invisible in the next few days,” Alpha Knight ordered in a General's voice. He had come down to Mufasa's Dungeon, where he, Lutz and Ami were frantically creating hundreds of potions and packaging drugs. Mufasa was coming along to be an on-ground healer while Ami was staying behind to run the dungeon.

Or with any other women out there. He doesn't feel he is doing wrong. He wasn't bound by the matebond. He was free. He can choose whoever he wants. That Alexandria girl can be his Queen for all he cares to stay as the King of werewolves. He isn't obligated to her. With this last thought, he returns to his room. Wondering how this girl will be like? Alexandria Knight huh? The daughter of Volkan King. The Summoner of Light. Interesting. Volkan walks towards her room with slow dreaded steps. Opening it to only gulp. Seeing her there.

"Well, that changed when I became your number one knight." George rolled his eyes. His feet moved again and took him to stand in front of the dirty knight. "You could always ask for something better to wear." "What? Too dirty for your liking, your majesty?" Anthony chuckled, shoving the king gently. Anthony liked his attire. His ripped black jeans with custom made knee pads over them. The leather strap across his chest that held a sword or a bow (it depended on the day, really). The metal chest pad over his green sweater—the sleeves rolled up to reveal his muddy and scarred arms after each day. The black cloak tied around his neck. It was just him, and he couldn't imagine himself in anything

Her eyes landed on Adrian first, immediately softening, and then they shifted toward me, and the warmth disappeared. “Mother.” “Adrian.” She kissed his cheeks lightly before finally acknowledging me. “Lilith.” Not rude, not welcoming either. I forced a polite smile. “Good morning, Mrs. Knight.” She simply nodded before motioning toward the sitting area. “Sit.” The atmosphere instantly felt tense. Even the maids seemed careful while serving tea moments later. One maid approached me politely. “What would you like, young madam?” “Anything except tea bags,” I answered quickly. “I'm allergic.”

he gritted his teeth. Drake sighed. “No, let me deal with those punks!” he hissed. “I’m the one they needed, and I want to face those idiots and kill them barely with my hands.” He gritted his teeth and looked at rouges. “Oh, well, well, well. . .” A rouge in a black cloak appeared and said,” . . . how are you alpha? Why are you rushing back to your royal house?” Drake’s fists crumpled. “Don’t talk and let me kill you, punk!” he growled.

He hit the floor hard, the cold concrete biting into his skin. “So, you work at the quarry, huh?” the voice was rough, low, almost amused. Tunde didn't answer. He kept his head down, eyes darting to the side where his credit pouch had fallen, already being snatched up by one of the Brass Fangs. The figure stepped forward. Tunde saw him now a thick-chested man with gold implants running along his skull like tribal markings. Two metal fangs jutted from his jaw.Kappa. “This is a decent haul,” Kappa said, tossing the credit pouch up and down before passing it to the shortest of the thugs. “Too decent for a mud-grubber like you.”

It's Knight and he’s talking to me. I pull my hoody down. Knowing it's rude to keep it on any longer. “Which ones tastier?” He stares at me, not saying anything for a moment, then snaps out of whatever's got him stuck, “Steak it is.” Killer, the guy that I met earlier who doesn’t match the others, (he is just too refined) comes from behind the corner which is the lounge area and hits Knight on the back. He does that to a lot of the guys.

I knew the risk that I would be captured but I also knew that I needed Intel of how many men the King has and what regime they go on so we could find a way to break through their defences with less casualties. And for the past week that I've been here, it seems majority of the knights all have the ice power, but it isn't as strong, it would only knock an ordinary wolf unconscious but not enough to kill them. And as for those who are more powerful would be the 5 generals which 2 of them have already been killed during the previous attacks leaving with 3 formidable opponents left along with their King.

"Yes." Ciro reaches out. His hand—wrapped in tape, rough and heavy—cups my shoulder. He doesn't squeeze. He just rests the weight of it there, grounding me. "I am not a King," Ciro says. "I am not a Jester." He slides his hand down my arm, his taped fingers rasping against my skin. He grips my wrist, his thumb pressing into the pulse point. "I am the Wall," he growls. "I am the Shield."