Battle Of Blackwater Novels & Stories

Kade The celebration was still glowing behind them—lanterns swaying, music drifting—but Kade barely heard any of it. His phone buzzed with the Ironridge seal flashing across the screen. He stepped away from the noise, Wyatt following with a questioning look. Kade answered. “Report.” Ironridge’s intel officer spoke quickly. “We finished cross-referencing the old logs, Alpha. The attack eleven years ago—Silvermoon wasn’t destroyed by rogues. It was hit by a coalition. Multiple packs working together. And one of them was Blackwater.”

“They were sane.” The entire hall stilled. “They fought like warriors aware of every strike. One even begged for death, saying he was being called back to the roots. We burned the remains, but the ground beneath them...” she glanced at Lucifer..“it bled blood but not crimson, it was black" Next was Alpha Cade Dauntless Evergreen, of Riverdale Pack, master of water. His presence was calm yet powerful, like the rivers he commanded. “The attacks reached us shortly after the Knight River incident. The rogues came through the mist along our bay. When I drowned one to stop his rampage, the water turned black. It was alive, writhing with something unnatural.”

“On top of that, there’s a moat surrounding Blackwater City called Blackwater River. The water in this river is rapid, and it looks like a vast black river. It is the namesake of Blackwater City. “The river is also quite peculiar as nothing from the outside world can float on it. Only special boats from Blackwater City can traverse the river safely.” That characteristic of the river was similar to the underworld. Then, they began a long flight. Despite the speedy immortal artifact vessel that Caelum had prepared for Andrius, it took them a long time to get to the extreme north. “Look!” Mark pointed at a black dot on the horizon. “That’s Blackwater City. Blackwater River doesn’t reflect light

Just as Tulip was about to pick up the walkie-talkie and notify the bar manager to stop the Black Water mercenaries… Suddenly, she stared at the big screen with wide eyes. At this time, there was a scene on the big screen that horrified her. David grabbed Black Water's neck with one hand and lifted him against the wall, and Black Water, a mid-Dragon Ranker, was powerless to fight back! He could only widen his eyes and stare at the person in front of him in horror. In less than a second, Black Water's neck was snapped, and his body slid limply down the corner of the wall.

"I want him in a cell." Victor tossed the empty rifle. He pulled his Glock, checking the slide. Three bullets. His hands were vibrating, a mix of terror and pure, uncut spite. He was alone, cornered, and losing blood. "Push left!" Moss ordered. The black wall of shields moved in, boots thundering like a drum. The circle was shrinking. "Stay back!" Victor roared, firing into a pillar. Concrete dust exploded, masking the room in white grit. "Flashbangs!" a lieutenant yelled.

The nerves I thought I had under control stir again, fluttering under my ribs. Drake sits beside me, his broad shoulders tense, gaze fixed somewhere in the distance. He doesn’t speak right away. Instead, he takes a long sip of his coffee, as if trying to decide where to begin. I wait, watching the wind stir the branches above us. Finally, his voice breaks the quiet. Low. Measured. “There have been attacks. On werewolf packs. Blackwater hasn't been attacked but there have been a few close to home.” I stiffen, already knowing this isn’t a normal kind of violence.

Then, we offered wine, flowers, and meat. The prayer vigil turned out to be a thanksgiving prayer. The whole of the Black Water Pack came to join us when they heard the good news - their Alpha, Beta, and Gamma, along with the rest of the warriors came back unscathed. They were rejoicing, dancing in glee at this fortuitous moment.

I stood in the ruins of the ceremonial clearing and forced myself to breathe. This was not the moment for rage. This was the moment for planning. What was left of Blackwater gathered slowly. Ten fighters. That was all. Ten wolves healthy enough to stand, to shift, to fight. Some bore fresh bandages. Others leaned on each other for balance. These were not the strongest wolves in the pack anymore. They were simply the ones still alive and able. And they were willing to go anyway.

Squat forms with swine-like heads and leering eyes that mocked him "I...wh..." The words refused to form as he fought to breathe. He could almost see the other men plotting and planning. Blood was staining their fingers, flowing from the ceiling. Blake stood near them, his face distorted and maimed, grinning as he chewed the loose flesh from his own cheek. He felt long, cold fingers clutch his chin, and his head was tilted to meet the eyes of a dark warrior. Power exuded from the austere form, freezing his blood and cooling the sweat on his skin.