Black Court Novels & Stories

"He's demanding audience, Alpha. Says he has a proposition that might prevent... unpleasantness." Unpleasantness. Such a delicate word for the kind of territorial war that could paint these mountains red with supernatural blood. I found Blackwood waiting in the courtyard like he owned it, flanked by three wolves who moved with the particular swagger of creatures who'd never learned proper respect for established territory. He looked older than I remembered—gray threading through dark hair, lines around his eyes that spoke of years spent in exile—but his amber gaze held the same calculating intelligence that had made him dangerous three decades ago.

As I picked my way over roots and moss, I muttered, “Well, Kyla, here you are again, running from a castle of liars, bribers, and crown-worshippers. Don’t say life’s not consistent.” A squirrel chattered angrily from above, tossing an acorn down that landed square on my head. “Ow—excuse you! I was agreeing with you. Court life is rotten!” The squirrel flicked its tail, unimpressed, and bounded off. Fine. Even the squirrels had opinions. After a mile of walking, the woodland shifted into the outskirts where the black market made its nest—hidden beneath canvas stalls and twisted branches, cloaked in the smell of smoke, spices, and secrets.

But looking at Reina, once so confident and composed, now reduced to a trembling mess, I can’t help but glance up at Luca’s side profile. How powerful is he, really? As if sensing my stare, Luca’s arm tightens around me, pulling me more firmly against his still-damp chest. When he speaks again, his tone is almost calm. The kind of calm that is far more dangerous than shouting. "You will spend the next week in the Black Pit." My eyes widen in pure horror. I nearly step out of his embrace. Did Luca just say the Black Pit? I have heard of that place. Everyone in this world has. An underground arena infamous for its brutal, savage, and sadistic fighters… and the man who owns it. They call him 't

The streets were packed with people in dark suits rushing home from work, holding umbrellas under the glowing neon streetlights. The five brothers stood under the green canvas awning of a coffee shop across the street from a tall, ancient stone building with massive granite pillars. "That's the place," Thomas said, pointing a finger toward a heavy iron side door marked with a small brass plate: THE BLACKWOOD FOUNDATION. "The auction room is two levels down, behind the old vault door." Noah adjusted the collar of his coat, pulling his hat low over his forehead. He looked at his four brothers standing around him in the shadows of the awning.

Today they have become closer than during the time spent on the Cliff. “I found out who killed the newts, but there were even more questions,” Nocté would give anything to be in the Black Cliff, away from this nightmare. The wet, sweaty shirt stuck unpleasantly to the body, making the skin itch. Hiding behind bushes and wide trees, they reached the stables, where there was a platform with numerous carriages. Some of the coachmen gathered by the fountain and chatted, someone sat on the box, drank and played cards with friends.

I nodded. The Party Of Wolves — The car ride was silent. Dorian sat beside me in the backseat, looking out the window as if the world outside belonged to him—and maybe it did. I didn’t know why he’d insisted I come tonight. All I knew was we were heading to some kind of gathering at one of the most expensive hotels in the city. His only instruction had been, “Wear black.” The elevator doors opened onto a ballroom dripping with gold light and expensive perfume. Crystal chandeliers glittered overhead. Men in tailored suits and women in silk gowns turned to look as we walked in, their conversations pausing mid-sentence.

Each of them formidable alphas from packs with unique abilities and legacies. Caius Knight Black of the Nightshade Pack was a tall man with long, sleek black hair that framed his chiseled face. His eyes were a piercing silver, sharp and calculating, often concealed under the shadow of his brow. The Nightshade Pack was known for their mastery over shadows and stealth, and Caius embodied that secrecy and quiet danger. His wolf, as dark as night itself, was a shadow among shadows, capable of blending into the darkness without a trace.

Then, seeing what opened the entrance towards the great infernal palace of the court of darkness. The scary courthouse whose inside looked the same or worse than the outside, although hyena and buzzards, crows and coyotes were mostly four-cornered sitting eating the parts of the victims, I mean, the parts of those who lost in the courtroom, that day. hour, they seemed to be sitting waiting for their turn in the middle of the rostrum.

It was mostly deserted all year long. However, there was currently a crowd outside the courthouse. Soleans from all over the country were gathered here. Even foreign reporters were present. There were also many familiar figures present. Thea, Quincy, Xara, Tiara, and Cynthia were all there. Some who were acquainted with James were also there. A convoy approached the courthouse, and all cameras were directed toward the approaching vehicle. “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s currently eight in the morning. This is the courthouse in the Capital. We’re here today to witness the trial of James, the Black Dragon, one of the most powerful figures in the nation.”

A bulletin about a convict who had escaped caught my attention. The newscaster in a maroon suite read out the bulletin swiftly in her Australian accent. The crawler at the bottom of the screen read out: Wanted: Rapist and Kidnapper with underlining psychiatric disabilities, Tylor Byers on the run! Tylor Byers? I clicked my tongue as the name rolled over it so smoothly. The name rings a bell but I don't remember how. Next thing I know, my picture is up on the screen. Huh? What the fuck is happening?