Warhammer 40k Eldar Gods Novels & Stories

The Harbinger stood behind the dais, wings folded, armour dimmed—an unsheathed blade pretending stillness. At my entrance, murmurs thinned, then sharpened. The War-God rose. His skin gleamed like tempered steel; a scar cut across his mouth like a smile erased with a knife. “Selene. We felt the tremor. You went to the Loom alone. What decree?” No greeting. No courtesy. He smelled blood. Opposite, the Lady of Death traced bone-white fingers on her onyx throne. Her eyes were calm abysses. “Careful,” she murmured. “You ask a question that unravels the floor beneath it.”

The same number that wasn’t supposed to exist. "Her name was Elara," Darius said. He was in front of me now. He didn’t tell me to look up. He didn’t have to. My body moved. My head came up. My eyes met his. "Elara the God-Wolf. Elara the Breaker. She could command packs without speaking. She could tear worlds apart by walking through them. She could shift the moon’s pull in her own body and make other wolves bleed from their ears." He crouched. Now we were eye to eye.

Totally forgetting about guards until one of them called out, “The traitor is here!” Every guard turned in my direction and lunged at me. Spears were pointed at me and I was about to say my last prayer. Just then, Arden’s weak voice called me from one of the cells. “Elera?” As I looked at his blood covered clothes. I remembered the look in his eyes when he took arrows for me, the way his body fell before me. Tears burned my eyes. Heat rose in my chest and my teeth suddenly felt bigger than my mouth. I could hear a hum in my bones and power surged in my chest. My vision was suddenly splitted and I could hear the bone cracking sound from the night I got mated to Darius.

Emotions had run wild between now and then; excitement, disbelief, discontent, rage, and now a thoughtful silence pervading the four walls like a thick blanket that lulls her back to the bay of sleep’s arms. Avian dips the feathered tip into the glass bottle and carefully lowers it onto the page where she had left, just beneath the grotesque sketch of an original Lycanthrope she had attempted whilst still in the throes of energy. “… Average of ten feet tall, five hundred pounds of muscle and fur that is impervious to the war instruments of man.” The high priest stands at the front left, his cheeks like emptied udders that tremble with each breath, “tapetum lucidum…” highly sensitised night v

"The god of darkness and chaos, followed by his mad faithful exiles to Cynemon." "That's what the history books say," Elhias laughed, seeing his confidence. "Werod was never a deity, he passed himself off as such, but he is only an entity born during the creation of the world and men. An entity so powerful that it makes the goddess Waruld tremble." He then concluded with his gaze lost in the void. "The goddess? Are you a religious fanatic?" asked Taryn, raising an eyebrow. "Don't you believe in the Gods?" Elhias turned to look at her, her gray eyes inspecting her.

I finished for him, the strategy taking shape in my mind like a puzzle finding its missing piece. Before more questions could be hurled at my son, Elara rose from her seat, her presence commanding attention. Her eyes, ever-shifting like the cosmos she so deeply understood, held secrets that went beyond the realms we knew. "Elara," I said, acknowledging her wisdom, "what insights do you bring?" "Black Faes are creatures of conviction, driven by a purpose that transcends mere survival," Elara began, her voice resonating with the timbre of ancient knowledge. "They are not just soldiers; they are believers in a cause-a dark ideal that fuels their relentless pursuit."

“Come with me.” She followed me into my study. I motioned for her to sit down when I saw she was waiting for me to ask her to sit. I loved the act. It showed she was raised well. I sat behind the desk and she sat across from me. “Is there a problem?” I asked. “Yesterday, an elder god appeared to me. He said something was coming for you and that I should warn you to be cautious.” The elder gods were gods who had retired. There was the council of blood (Vampires); the council of brew (Witches); the council of fire (Dragons); and the council of thieves (Griffins).

I can run from it, no matter where I turn. “Eldora isn’t a world the fates planned to create. Before Eldora, Gods were able to come to Earth – not many lived peacefully. Earth was our playground, waging wars for land, power, of jealousy. They were dark times for humans. The ashes of those wars created Eldora. Creatures we didn’t have any control of rose, and we were no longer able to step onto your worlds to correct our mistakes.” Selene confesses, sadly. “And the Qusayr was created to watch over the darkness,” I state. The Gods couldn’t do anything themselves, so they created beings who could.

"You want me to be the farmer?" "No," her mother said, finally turning to face her. Her eyes were a terrifying, vacant white. "I want you to be the Harvester. Your Primal light can pull the spirits directly from the living. We won't have to wait for them to die anymore. With you, we can restart the Golden Age." Elara felt a wave of nausea. This was why the North was dying. This was why Killian’s lands were grey and the rivers were stagnant. The Architect wasn't just a Goddess; she was a parasite.

Tristan Mercer is the commander—otherwise known as the Alpha—of Drovenia's premier special forces unit, codenamed the Fenrir unit. After retiring from the army, he goes undercover into civilian life to repay the debt he owes Claire Grayson for saving his life. He hides his past and marries into the Grayson family as a live-in son-in-law, becoming Claire's househusband. For five long years, even though Claire is sharp-tongued and cruel, Tristan swallows his pride and cooks and cleans without complaint. He tells himself he's doing this to repay Claire. Then their daughter, Ruby Grayson, suffers a sudden heart attack. While the doctors try and fail to save her, Claire is off taking care of h