By Curtis Jobling
The epic end to the Wereworld saga!
In this exciting finale to the Wereworld saga, secrets and techniques are eventually published, truths come to gentle, and alliances are demonstrated. whereas the battle among the Catlords and the Wolf embroils the Seven geographical regions in chaos, Drew needs to take his ultimate stand opposed to the guy who has turn into Lyssia’s deadliest villain: his personal ally, the Boarlord Hector, whose powers of darkish magick are raging out of control.
"Game of Thrones for the tween set." —School Library Journal
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Additional resources for War of the Werelords (Wereworld)
His outfits, already tattered from the lengthy interrogation at Vega’s hand, tore free as he welcomed the beast. vivid pink spines with crimson tips emerged from his head and shoulders as his physique ballooned earlier than them. Drew took a step again now, cautious of the transferring Werelord. the ocean Marshal of Bast spied the Werewolf relocating again to the brig door. His legs kicked out back, one foot swiping Drew’s legs from underneath him, the opposite kicking the barred door and sending it slamming close. The steel hand clapped down, snapping into position because the younger Wolflord fell opposed to it. Vega hurried, seizing the door and lifting the mechanism, trying to shove it open. To his horror he came upon Drew’s providers physique blocking off the brig’s threshold, preventing him from getting into. “Move, Drew! ” Vega shouted. “The quills! ” Drew regarded up in horror because the burbling, bloody Scorpionfish now materialized ahead of them, the chain approximately its huge, immense, bloated throat virtually decapitating it. Its arms and toes snatched on the air, sharp talons that swiped at an invisible foe because it approached demise. Pulling himself to his knees, Drew snatched on the door, attempting to open it and squeeze via whereas fending off the giant Werefish. “Forrrrr . . . Basssssssst . . . ” have been the final phrases out of its nonetheless grinning lips as they peeled again, revealing tiny razorsharp the teeth that studded the jaws. Its physique used to be nearly round now, pockmarked flesh nonetheless undulating with colour, mottled yellow, red, and black. The toxic quills rattled because it spun approximately, turning its spine-covered again Drew’s manner. A backbone shot from the Scorpionfish’s shoulder blade, hitting the deck on the youth’s ft with a powerful thunk. “No! ” screamed Vega, kicking open the door, the bars smashing into the Wolflord because the Shark rushed in. His rapier used to be out, lunging during the air and discovering the again of Scorpio’s head. The blade went via, embedding within the brig wall at the different part, inflicting the ocean Marshal of Bast’s suffering to immediately stop. The air in its swollen physique started to burn up at that second, as though escaping a punctured wineskin, the monster’s dying rattle sounding with it. The quills that decorated its again went limp, falling flush opposed to its hideous flesh because it hung suspended from the groaning trees wall, the chains nonetheless taut with the Scorpionfish’s weight. respiring a sigh of aid, Vega became to examine the younger lycanthrope the place he sat at the ground, palms crossed, sandwiched among the caged door and the barred partitions of the brig. His face was once light, his eyes extensive as he stared up on the useless sea marshal. “Shocking, what a few souls could do,” stated Vega, nodding, as he held his hand out towards his buddy at the pitching deck. “Here, permit me assist you up. ” Drew didn’t circulation, hand and wrist stump conserving his waist, horrified eyes nonetheless informed at the physique that hung from the wall by way of chain and blade. Vega reached down, taking the youth’s hand, trying to haul him to his ft. His personal face tired of colour. There it was once.