Warhammer 40k Ancients Novels & Stories

Osiris frowns, but takes a seat, his eyes fixed on Nero, bracing himself for what comes next. “Nero found out something about Morana,” I start, trying to ease into the conversation, “about her wolf.” Osiris’s brow furrows in confusion. “Morana? What about her wolf?” “It’s not just her wolf, Osiris,” Nero takes over. “When I used my Alpha Sight on Morana, I found out that there’s something attached to it called a Meraloth—an ancient entity that feeds on memories. And we believe it’s responsible for the memory losses both you and Camellia experienced.”

He is so happy because he will finally be able to escape this chaotic world and they will be able to fulfill the simple dream of Akira and his as a normal couple. When he arrived at the condo, he immediately took a shower first to be able to clean and to make sure if he hadn't been scratched before. As the water flows through his body you can see the blood of his victims clinging to him gradually flowing into the sink. Azrael’s body is full of scars from his wounds from his previous missions and on his back is a large tattoo— “Deus Mortis” which in Latin means “God of death” is what the organization called him because of the number of impossible missions he has accomplished.

A literal knight in shining armour. "The answer to all this lies on a prophecy that has been living for nearly two decades. It is the prophecy of the powerful White dragon residing amongst us werewolves. The champion of the nightcrawlers." His voice boomed through the hall, earning him gasps and some few snickers from the crowd. "Dragons don't exist. Their kind had been wiped out since the Divine Cleansing two decades ago." My father commented, and I rolled my eyes. "The prophecies I foresee are never wrong, Alpha Marcus. One dragon is alive, whether you like to believe it or not." Elder Zane said in a surprisingly calm tone though his voice remained powerful.

There was a story here the anthropologist in him itched to uncover for more reasons than one. Lingering in his vehicle, Jim watched as Teri drew the blinds in the RV’s bedroom, her seductive silhouette against them a succubus’ envy. When the last lights in the RV were extinguished, he started his Jeep, only turning on the headlights when he reached the highway. As he drove home, he recalled a long-forgotten story from Plato. In Greek mythology, humans originally had four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. Jealous of their happiness and petty in the way Greek gods were, Zeus split them into two distinct parts, and condemned them to spend their lives lonely, in search of their missing

"Alright, you say we don't have much time to talk, but why am I here?" "I need to warn you of a war, and I need you to let your family know because they will be dragged into this war." "What war?" "The war between the god Ashton and the humans." "Why would that involve my family?" "Ashton will ask other gods to aid him in this war." "Why does he even want this war?" "You can say he has a hate for them." "Why does he hate them?" "Humans kill what they don't understand and are different than them." I guess that can be true, and that's why us werewolves keep our self a secret from the humans.

She was just Ela. I do not understand, she said. How can I be one of the Ancients? They are gone. They have been gone for centuries. Kai shook his head. The Council wanted you to believe that, he said. They wanted everyone to believe that. But the Ancients were not destroyed. They went into hiding. They interbred with humans. They buried their power so deep that even they forgot it was there. Until someone like you came along. Someone who needed it. Someone who was desperate enough to wake it up.

“But you’ll need me.” Annabel tilted her head, the faintest hint of a smirk on her lips. “You think I trust you?” “You don’t have to trust me,” he said. “But you’re smart enough to know you’ll die if you do this alone.” Before Annabel could respond, the trees ahead of them exploded outward, the force sending splinters flying. She dove to the side, the rogue rolling in the opposite direction as the first Ancient stepped into view. Its form was grotesque, a blend of human and beast, its flesh scarred and stretched unnaturally. Its eyes glowed red, and its maw opened wide to release a guttural roar. Behind it, more shapes emerged, their hulking forms pushing through the shattered forest.

"But she wasn't the first one to find the Source. She built her world on top of a graveyard. And now that she’s gone... the **Owners** of the graveyard are waking up." From the rift, a sound began to echo—a deep, metallic thrumming that made the very air feel heavy. And then, the first of them appeared. They weren't Reapers. They weren't made of light or shadow. They were made of bone and brass, their bodies a horrific fusion of biology and ancient steam-tech. They were the **Ancient Nulls**. And they weren't looking for a "Subject 01." They were looking for their **Property**.

Sammy, Cody, Jesse, and Jasmine fought alongside us, their loyalty and determination unwavering. As the battle reached its climax, a surge of energy coursed through our veins, a collective power that rose from the depths of our souls. We channeled this energy, combining our forces in a final, desperate attempt to defeat the Ancients. With a blinding flash of light, the Ancients were vanquished, their dark presence dissipating into the night.

Tessa whispered, emerging from the tree line with a look of pure terror. "Who?" I managed to rasp, the poison reaching my heart. "The ones who built the Citadel," she said, pointing to the sky. The clouds didn't part; they dissolved. Dozens of massive, organic ships larger than the Living Citadel descended from the upper atmosphere. They weren't Council. They weren't Neutral Pack. They were white, bone-like structures that hummed with a frequency that made the very ocean floor vibrate. "The Ancients," Julian’s reconstructed head muttered from the sand, his voice full of a sudden, religious awe. "They’ve come to collect their property."