9 Tailed Cloak Novels & Stories

The top was an off-the-shoulder three-quarter sleeve buoyance, continuing the flower and feather pattern over the chest and down the sleeves. There was also a matching cloak, made out of the same gold material with the same flower and feathers design except it didn't have the jewels that the dress did. I don't think it actually gets used very often as it looks like it is more for the winter and now that I am a wolf; I am just as warm as Axel is.

I had to distract Tasha so She wouldn't notice something was off. "It's nothing, someone is probably watching a movie downstairs," I said nonchalantly. But deep down, I wanted to know the reason for the sound. "I'll be right back. I want to go get a snack from the fridge" I used this as an excuse to see what was going on. "Alright, Can you bring for me also" She battled her eyelashes, trying to look cute. "Sure" I left the room and hurried downstairs. I saw Ralph on the couch, playing video games and approached him. He was putting on a black hoodie with black sweatpants. Black was his signature outfit. He seldom wears other colours of clothing.

I draped across my broad shoulders a thick black cloak, lined with silver fur, and adorned with runes so faint they appeared only when touched by rage moonlight. There was a large embroidery of the pack's emblem at its back. A faint aura clung to it. It was an ancestral possession passed from Alpha to Alpha. It was said that the cloak had witnessed centuries or war and triumph, spirits of fallen kings imbuing it with their majesty. It was not merely a cloth that rested on my shoulders, but a legacy given form. The cloak was as old as the pack. It was worn on rare occasions like this formal assembly. West led the way as we headed to the throne room.

Kayo’s tails ignite in nine different colors of foxfire. Rowan just sighs, closes his grimoire, and mutters, “Of course the Sky Court picks Texas.” A single figure steps out of the aurora bleed. Tall. Too tall. Skin like moonlight on snow, hair made of actual clouds, eyes the exact color of the moment before lightning strikes. He wears armor of living wind (plates that shift and whisper when he breathes). And he’s holding a scroll sealed with a drop of frozen starlight. He bows (perfect, ancient, terrifying).

His hair was combed and styled perfectly, every strand falling into place with effortless elegance. The black royal cloak with its intricate golden embroidery hugged his broad shoulders, the black waistcoat beneath it accentuating his strong frame, and the deep blue shirt peeked out at the collar, adding a touch of rich color that made his red eyes stand out even more. He looked breathtaking, like a prince stepped out of an ancient legend.

I was to pretend this affair didn't exist and do nothing to stop them. Something wrapped its arm around my throat. I tore the contract into shreds. Nathaniel had kept the affair a secret for five whole years. That was something I didn't see coming. … It happened one night when I came home—three months had passed since our wedding. The first thing that greeted my eyes was a house turned upside-down. I saw torn clothes, undergarments, and questionable stains all over the ground. I walked into my bedroom. That was where I found Nathaniel in bed, naked with another woman. The scene hit me like a sledgehammer.

Royalty. My Lord’s attire had been crafted centuries ago by the blind tailors of the Moon Forge, stitched with thread laced in night-silver and lined with fabric spun from shadowmoth silk. The coat itself was deep maroon—so dark it looked black in certain light—with an underlayer of blood-gold embroidery that traced patterns of serpents and wings across the cuffs and down the spine. Twin clasps of onyx and iron sat like fangs at my chest. A high collar framed my neck, its tips like blades. Across my shoulders rested the mantle: a heavy piece of black velvet edged with ancient runes, the mark of my House glowing faintly in deep crimson at the center—a sun pierced by a sword.

“Deal.” “Excellent, I shall send two of my drones to escort you to change into the school uniform. After that, they shall lead you to your friends.” The doors opened and the chancellor escorted me out of her office. But as I walked out, I saw a hooded cloak hanging in a display box with the same symbol as Emola’s forehead. “What is the strange cloak for?” I asked. “All will be revealed in due time, my dear,” Emola said. “I shall see you shortly.”

I don’t really expect an answer, but…. The seer chuckled lightly and said, “Let’s just say he almost gave you a third mate. You obviously are not attracted to the man, but he was hell-bent on having you, thanks to Baltazar.” Silence followed as I understood the meaning of his words. Mom ran her fingers from my shoulder down. She held my hand, her face gentle yet serious. Her gaze locked with mine before she opened her mouth, “This cloak is the highest form of honor the gods and goddesses give a witch after defeating a powerful entity. It comes with a variety of powers, but it also comes with vast responsibility,” she paused, trying to fight the tears threatening to fall down. “I know I don’t

For a moment, she held her breath as she wondered if she was being followed, but struggled to suppress a sigh of relief as the figure did not so much as acknowledge her presence. As they passed in front of where she was hiding, Lyda was able to get a good look at them. The figure was covered head to toe in a dark gray cloak, stitched with a hexagonal design similar to the stone tiles of the floor. The hood of the cloak fell over the figure's face far enough that there could be no way they could see directly in front of them. The only parts that were visible to Lyda were the figure's hands, which were pale white and wrinkled as if they had been soaked for hours in hot water, and their fingern