Black Clover Clover Novels & Stories

Clara arrives home from school that afternoon with the notebook. Not the school notebook — the other one. The small one she has been carrying since she was eight, in the coat pocket, the one that has been filled and replaced twice and is now in its third version. She puts it on the kitchen table and opens it to a page she has marked with a folded corner and says, "I have a question about this." The marked page has a single sentence in Clara's handwriting: *The conditions are in the rocks. The rocks are not in the conditions.*

Even Karly, as well as Terence and Sam, were starting to feel a bit impatient. "Tyrell, are your people capable or not?" Karly furrowed her brows, speaking with dissatisfaction: "The sky is almost about to brighten, and we still haven't found any trace of the Clover Frost Leaf! Stop dawdling! If we can't successfully gather the herb today, you'll have to answer to me!" "Clover Frost Leaf" was the name of the herb. It was said that this plant grew in a thousand-year-old cold pond, drawing energy from the cold as its nourishment, which made it grow extremely slowly.

Krister asked, looking at his tablet still before walking to the back room. “Black? She doesn’t-- I mean didn’t wear anything else?” she asked, her eyebrows meeting in the middle confused. “Don’t tell me she’s one of those people…” “Yes, specifically black clothing. They’re hot in the day but you disappear in the night. That’s what she always said to me.” Krister disappeared in the back to get something whilst Rojean was left there to contemplate on her own how she was going to pull the act off if she was a bad liar herself.

His wolf is furious, not at Clover but at him. -You fool,- his wolf growls. -You've wasted years.- "Shut up," Milton mutters, but there's no conviction behind it. For the first time, doubt creeps in, unwelcome and uncomfortable. Outside, Clover slips away from the main paths, taking a hidden trail that winds through the oldest part of the Kirkwood forest. Here, ancient pines tower overhead, their branches creating a natural cathedral. The afternoon light filters through in dappled patterns, illuminating patches of wildflowers that grow in defiant clusters.

Her voice. For someone I supposedly can’t stand, the Goddess sure gave her everything I’ve ever wanted. Petite. Curvy. Long, raven-black hair. Full lips made for sin. And now, surprise surprise, I’ve got a hard-on again. Great. I shoot a text to Dev—Need to talk. Urgent. Then I shower, strip my bed, and gather my laundry. The second I open the front door, I smell it. That scent—warm, wild plums and something earthy and irresistible.

Clover hates eating late. As six o’clock approaches, there’s another knock. Clover steps in and her top layer of clothing is gone. Shes now sleeveless in a fitted shirt and flowing pants, just clean lines. She looks unreal. My mouth actually waters. “You ready?” she asks. “Yes,” I manage. We head to the garage. I open the door for her. “Oh,” she says, smiling. “I like this car.” “It’s a BMW SUV. I know you like them.”

Our manager is one tough cookie to crack,a minute late he will lecture you to for being tardy wishing you'd crawl back and never be seen. I sigh as I take out my contacts for my disguise looks.After all have been through and deciding to cloak myself as Marie,I also had to change my looks choosing a blonde wig and blue eye contacts hiding my grey eyes.I also had to tan myself a bit to hide my pale skin.I closed my eyes letting myself fall into slumber with only one thought in mind,time to reign.

‘She doesn’t know who we are,’ Clover whimpers, pulling at her lavender colored hair, showing more fear than I’ve ever seen in her. “I’m right here Raven, I’m not leaving you,” I whisper, trying to calm her down, wishing I knew how to take her pain. ‘Gideon, like with Gideon… sink your claws into her to drain her she’s full of power and life!’ Clover squeals almost happily, as I look over at her watching her dance around the bodies. “Clover now is not the time!” I growl at her, trying to understand how she could be happy when everything has gone straight to hell so fast.

The Black Cliff. Sixteen years earlier. That spring day Johannes was lying on a hill catching few rays that were shining through gloomy clouds. He was nibbling on a grass blade, lazily looking at a flock of sheep: yellowish and light gray wool balls were plucking juicy clover that covered the whole hill. From time to time the animals bleated at each other as if exchanging words, and tried to push their fellows away from the most delicious areas of grass.