Black Cloak Novels & Stories

The rest all have this same deep forest green cloak over their clothing. I’m not sure if the Rift is slowing down the battle for my sake or if I am so used to watching battle that it feels as if time has slowed, but the black and grey cloaked figures appear to be all male based on size and the width of their shoulders. Their movements are broad and sharp, more aggressive. The forest green cloaks seem to be more ceremonial, with flecks of something metallic woven in. Not something you would see on a traveller. Their movements seem to be more fluid.

"Describe him." "I couldn't see his face. He wore a black cloak and a Clow over his head, but the surprising thing was that his face just seemed like nothing, just darkness, and he—he was watching me." Alaric paused for a moment, and I was disappointed when I saw the flicker of doubt in his eyes. It soon disappeared as though he was trying not to make me regret telling him. "That was all?"

Then I heard the footsteps; slow and measured, crushing gravel with deliberate weight. I turned my head, every muscle in me screaming in pain, and saw them through the haze of smoke drifting between the warehouses. I saw the black boots first, then a long coat brushing the ground and then a mask, smooth, reflective and emotionless, catching the dim light like a polished blade. He stood there, still as a nightmare, watching me. I stood transfixed to the spot, refusing to blink, wondering what he was up to this time. Because now I understood the truth in a way I hadn’t before. The Cloak wasn’t just hunting Freda, or Isabella, or any of us individually.

Kaspar was not praying to the Moon Goddess or preparing bandages for the burn victims outside in the cold rain. He was speaking in hushed and urgent tones to a tall figure standing just outside the ring of candlelight. The stranger wore a heavy dark cloak that pooled on the marble floor and concealed every single detail of their face. The deep crimson fabric of the cloak looked almost black in the dim light but the distinctive silver clasp at the neck caught the candle's glow. It was the undeniable mark of the Crimson Eclipse. The horrible realization hit me and proved the conspiracy ran so much deeper than I ever knew before I died.

the leader of their council said. There was so much hatred in the way he spoke to me, and I wondered what he was talking about. "What did you find out?" I asked him. " You possessed a dark lunar magic and this has brought about some kind of darkness to our pack, we do not accept that kind of magic here and anyone who brings such to us will be punished" he said. It sounded like some lame joke, I am never with such kind of magic, what has this got to do with me?

“You know he told you to wear white because he wants you walking into the memory before he even touches you.” I looked at her. She did not soften. Good. I was starting to like people who refused to soften truth. “Yes,” I said. “Then what will you wear?” The question startled me. Garran looked up. Sera’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. I glanced down at myself. Mud-streaked cloak. Torn sleeves. Bandaged hand. Boots that had seen too much. “Not white.” Maelis nodded. “Good start.” Sera said, “Black Hollow colors would support Damien’s story.”

When they are about to touch her body, they vanished out of the blue. Leak realizes something is off. He turns around with manifesting a black spear in his hand and throws it to the bushes before him. Someone in a black cloak comes out from the bushes and vanishes the spear with something like a spear on his right hand. He charged to Leak and points his jet-black Tachi to Leak. “Wa... Waku-waku?!” Herman gets shocked. “No! It’s him!” Jeje exclaimed. He wears a jet black cloak with golden stripes on the sleeves and an eye with thunder on its pupil. The hood is off showing that it’s Alfi.

I’m not merchandise… Then, everything stopped. A new voice. Deep. Cold. Final. “One billion.” Gasps rippled through the room. Heads turned toward the back. I did too. He stood slowly, as if time bent for him. Black cloak. Face half-shrouded. Only his eyes were visible, silver, lifeless, dangerous. The entire hall fell still. The air, heavy. Even the shadows seemed to crawl away from him. And I knew. No. No, no, no.

​The entire hall gasped in unison as every head turned toward the entrance. ​Striding down the central aisle came Prince Leo Blackwood. He was a magnificent, intimidating figure of pure Northern power. Dressed in a midnight-blue velvet tunic embroidered with silver wolf crests, his broad shoulders were draped in a heavy dark fur mantle. At his hip hung The Moonlit Edge, its runic steel humming with a low, visible silver light. His dark hair fell over his brow, and his golden eyes burned with the lethal, unyielding flame of an Alpha warlord.

The aura around Aaron immediately churned wildly, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “That old man is not as simple as you think.” His tone grew even colder. “I have seen too many traces of his involvement behind various strange events over the years.” He clicked his tongue in frustration. “He moves very cleanly. Very carefully.” Aaron’s golden gaze darkened, waiting for the continuation of the information. But the next sentence made the air in the room seem to freeze. “And also … the man in the black cloak.” For the first time since the conversation began, Aaron’s mask of calmness shattered completely. His expression changed drastically, his eyes widening for a