Novel & Cerita Wise Old Elf

If I could just get to safety— The trees ahead of me exploded. A monstrous figure stepped through the flames. I barely had time to register the sheer size of it—easily fifteen feet tall, its body made of coal and molten fire. Its glowing ember eyes locked onto me, burning with something far worse than rage. Purpose. A deep, distorted voice rumbled through the clearing. “The time has come.” The air turned heavy, crackling with unnatural energy. My wolf recoiled, instinctively knowing we were facing something beyond our world. "We shall claim the Helm of the Gifted."

HOURS BEFORE THE REPORT OF WRATH: Greenfall Park, long considered a sanctuary between species of elves and werewolves alike, lay beneath a silver blue evening sky. Usually, the wind carried soft rushes of leaves from the elves’ Tree of Life. It is an ancient colossal trunk wrapped in spirals of light, feeding the land with vitality. Elven children often played beneath its branches while werewolves patrolled peacefully nearby. Tonight, however, the stillness felt like an omen. One that only the spirits of the forest understood.

I heard the sound of someone suck in a breath, the direction pointing towards Aunt Aurelia. Father's fingers stilled above the dark wood, the temperature dropping lower now. “The…Sage?” Father said the words slowly, the corner of his lips firming. My lips parted, eyes drifting between Father and Rhain. It was a terrible idea, the Sage was rumored to be the oldest wolven, his mind having left him in his old age. He was nothing more than a husk that had air going through it. “It is the only way.” Rhain insisted when Father discarded the idea.

“It’s already getting colder.” Time here seems to go by really slow, the same as my potion making lessons. I have been going at it nonstop this past week and keep making the same mistakes. It is difficult to know if I am exceptionally bad at it when my point of comparison is the almost perfect Lada. Thankfully, today another elf returned from a 50-year trip to the northern region with an extremely rare grimoire and the Mothers did not want to wait a second to decipher it, which gave me a deserved day off.

"Aren't you worried?" "Nah, I can handle anything they throw at us. The Elf is ten thousand years old but his core is badly danged. He has been reduced to a core developing stage. Even you can take him out. as for the other one who entered this place, his body seems like he is in the same state," Wren silently thought about it. "Really? You know they said that they went againt the five families for me. I didn't believe that one bit. Do you think they are telling the truth?"

Ciel was mounting an enormous deer as well, but its coat was a light grey. The raven Elf silently examined me from head to toe then signaled one of the guards. "They reek of werewolf scum..." a snobby pout stretched his lips down into a frown. Another snarky Elf to deal with... Great. I frowned as well, insulted. "We don't wish any harm." I replied, which caused the Elf's eyes to grow wide. He seemed... surprised. Weird, has he never met a or even spoke to a werewolf before or what?

I don't have anything left to be the next elder in our clan! I look at the sinner's daughter that is now busy talking to the other young wolf. I promise to find a way to eliminate your young girl... I promise. __________ FAXNERY_ Bardawulf _elder" Eragon and I come nearly close to our grandson BORIS and ULFRED and I ask them what happened why does ZORNZON grandson is still alive.

Stormee POV I asked Aelfred about his age. He froze, so that means he is older than me. “Aelfred?” I pressed, and he sighed, “Elf´s age is different; we reach maturity when we turn one thousand eight hundred years, which is something around you eighteen years of age,” he paused, and I nodded. I already knew that. When I was in high school and had the knack of spending all my free time in the library, I ran into a fascinating book about elves. I couldn´t put it aside, so I read it in one go, and then I was so interested in their way that I read every book on their species available to me.

“Basil, bring me the Elder.” Basil blinked a few times, trying to make sense of what he just heard. The Elder was the oldest wolf in the Landalf Pack. Each pack that was located at Tane Forest had one Elder, that was the oldest member of the pack alive, and they had special skills, such as wisdom beyond their years and the ability to foresee some events. The Beta decided against asking him why, and simply agreed, bowing and excusing himself for a moment. A few minutes later, he came back accompanied by a very senior man, who walked with the help of a wooden crutch, and was a bit of a hunchback.

Those who live for ever see know reason to hurry. Even the shortest elf was taller than most werewolves so it wasn't hard to spot them over the heads of the pack. They stood straight and the expression on each of the elves faces was a mask of perfect serenity. They're hair was long and flowed down their backs almost unaffected by the wind. Their wore loose flowing robes of green and yellow that his their footsteps so that they appeared to float up the path and to the patient alpha.