Westeros Mga Nobela at Kwento

Once we arrived at Rayan’s house, he parked the car and walked towards the door, as the door opened, it revealed a lavish, well-decorated living room. There were a few people there, all were wealthy if not beyond. Everything and everywhere was beautifully decorated, I’m not exaggerating but even the waiters and waitresses smelled money. When Rayan talked about his uncle’s wedding reception, I thought it is going to be a simple but classy reception but what I’m seeing right now is beyond. I kinda feel like I don’t belong there, everyone here screams money and I just look like I don’t belong here.

I nodded in agreement and continued to look over the map. To the East of the continent was a place called Nahas'fa, led by a King named Soopian. I wondered if these were the same Green Draygons that were to be blamed for the Hars. Beyond that was the Goorian ocean that connected this continent and another one. It held the Kingdoms of Cariissan: Black Draygons, Shonian: Red Draygons, and Vroo: Yellow Draygons. And underneath each Kingdom was the name of their rulers.

It was the reason he was tormenting me, after all. “Also,” he continued, “Someone sent me a text message.” “What text?” Kai asked. “In the text was a name. A clan name, to be precise. Les Morts d’Ivoire.” My heart skipped a beat. “Les Morts d’Ivoire?” “Yeah. Sound familiar?” I nodded. “Alistair’s clan.” Jay shifted in his chair. “How come I’ve never heard of it?” “Heard of The dead Ivory?” Alistair’s clan was known to foreigners as the dead Ivory. In New Jersey, they used Les Morts d’Ivoire. It meant the same thing.

and he knew immediately that they were werewolves just like himself. “Please,” he knelt down. “Help me. I’m a werewolf like you. Please help me find the road west.” “Of course I know you’re a werewolf,” Jimin grunted. “You smell like a month old cheeseburger and I picked your scent from over a mile. And yes, this is the west. That was the old name though. We used that hundreds of years ago when Dan was our king but he’s long gone. It’s now called Jaime’s Wood.”

"A decree?" "Yes, Your Majesty," Lyanna smiled warmly, unfurling the heavy parchment to reveal shimmering golden lettering painted in exquisite, intricate calligraphy. "To honor the end of the fractured eras and the birth of our new dynasty, the unified empire has officially voted to rename the entire continent. From this day forward, our world is no longer a collection of divided lands, broken territories, and hostile boundaries. It is officially known across history as The Moonborn Sovereignty."

Ivan grunts. A growl tears from my father's chest, plunging the room into silence. My father doesn't tolerate disrespect, interruptions sits almost at the top of the list. I think my name sits at the top because I am the greatest fuck you the goddess gave him. Gasp! The disrespect. But Ivan isn’t wrong. The West kingdom is always at war. With the South, with the North (every freaking time) but somehow, never with us. Whatever deal my ancestors struck with them seem to stand the test of time.

I had only old stories, passed down by villagers and my father, though his tales were softened versions told on rare nights when he tried to remember he had daughters. As far as anyone knew, the High Wiz still ruled the northern parts of the world—massive territories stretching from the island’s western shores to the far reaches of the continent. Empires governed by kings and queens, desert realms ruled by warlords, and then there was Duskarra, divided into seven courts, each ruled by a High Lord. Beings of immense, unyielding power. Power enough to crush armies. Or a single, defenseless mortal.

Lena continued, “and leverage. Whispers in noble courts. Veiled threats sealed in gold wax. They forge alliances over wine and secrets. Not all of them clean. Not all of them honest. But always… binding.” Ingrid had stilled beside us now, her gaze unreadable. She said nothing, but I could tell she was listening. “House Dorne’s estate is in the southern reaches,” Lena added, quieter now, the words threading through the falling snow. “Where winters are gentler and loyalty is sold in handshakes instead of blood. They have ties to a dozen noble families—maybe more—through marriage, trade, and magical treaties. But their oldest, most enduring alliance…” She gave a meaningful pause, eyes narrowing

I am all alone in this existence. The jolts and bumps of the carriage, the regular clops of hooves against sun-baked ground, grow on me rapidly. I find solace in the thought that the ride won't be very lengthy in spite of everything. Given the proximity of Agnarys' domain, Hestenia, to Gahndor, the journey ought to take no more than several hours. We are actually among the territories nearest to Gahndor. Each noble house in Raelia has a domain that they control and defend. When Mother and Father are unable to fulfill their obligations, my older brother Jason will assume Hestenia's tasks. Still, despite we officially possess this territory, every piece of land is ruled by Gahndor. That's just

8 meters tall and there was almost no room for it in the living room where he transformed. Reece says he's the alpha and that Alpha's have the biggest wolves, followed by the Beta's and I'm suddenly curious to see what Reece's wolf looks like. I'm curious to see what my wolf will look like.