Black Hallows Novels & Stories

The witches closed in, their laughter echoing like a chorus of nightmares. Something inside Aqua snapped. A surge of dark energy, unfamiliar and terrifying, welled up within her. She felt her pendant grow hot against her skin, the clear crystal turning black as smoke. The air around her crackled with raw power as she turned back towards the attackers, her fear morphing into a blinding rage.

Presently, While Daphne and Liam prepared to confront inspector Hayes, another meeting was going on. Deep within the heart of an ancient, desolate forest, a gathering of the malevolent Black Wolves took place under the shadowy canopy of night. The air was thick with a sinister energy as a hundred of these dark entities, cloaked in human guise, assembled in a large, moonlit clearing. Their eyes glimmered with a malefic light, revealing their true nature as they prepared to unleash chaos upon the unsuspecting nation.

Behind them is their emblem, written in perfect cursive which enlarged to show the fine craftsmanship. It reads: The Council of Bloody Hollow est. 1764. The three beings reclining in their tall black velvet seats appear much like they do in their portraits along the hallways; unmoving, unblinking, soulless. They sit on high as their stand is raised a good few feet, peering down at their noses to us. “Welcome.” The one in the center says, his voice sounding as though it’s going over our heads and carrying throughout the room. “What brings you to our chambers?”

Halloween 1986 On this special Halloween night, Sunny, James, and Rory had made plans to go to a nightclub located in Baltimore City. This nightclub was called The Golden Hammer, and it was a very fun place to be as it had big hair bands that performed rock music on stage. The Golden Hammer was a former brewery built of solid brick with high ceilings and exposed wooden beams, which gave it a really unique look. This club brought the biggest names in the music world together for packed, sweaty, and unforgettable performances. It was known for throwing spectacular Halloween parties every year, with elaborate decorations and costumes that added to the overall atmosphere. It was truly a hotspot

Symbols that predate even the First Wizard. One stands motionless on the lotus throne, robes of shifting galaxies frozen for the first time in recorded history. They inhale once. The smoke tastes of Spring blood, geothermal steam, 1920s gun-smoke, and the particular copper tang of a fifteen-year-old girl who just burned an immortal abomination out of existence with nothing but love and borrowed ghosts. One (voice barely above silence): “The Hollow Choir is no more.” The remaining eleven candles flare brighter, as if in relief.

For one terrible second, nobody moved. Nobody breathed. The massive crack stretched across the night sky like a wound carved into reality itself. Silver light poured from within it. Not lightning. Not moonlight. Something older. Something is wrong. The sight froze everyone on Blackthorn's walls. Warriors. Watchers. The Hollow Order. Even Seraphine. Even Lucien. Because whatever was happening none of them had expected it to happen now. The crack vanished almost as quickly as it appeared.

The door to the hall opened, a man entered the hall. He moved like shadow even though he was over 7 feet tall, he was wrapped in a dark cloak that was the color of shadows and it flowed behind him like he commanded the wind. His hair was raven-black, falling just past his sharp jawline, then his eyes like frozen silver swept over the room like he owned it yet did not want to be here, and for one terrible moment, he locked with hers. My breath caught, then my heart stuttered once, then resumed in a faster rhythm. I could smell him. Ash. Pine. The unmistakable scent of moon-kissed fur and pure lust. I don’t believe I have smelled anything more exotic.

Behind them came banners of every allied pack—each one fluttering like a heartbeat of unity. But not all marched. Some watched. And some waited. Deep in the Hollow Fang sanctum, Seer Halvek stood before a blood-drenched altar. The ritual had begun. A pool of void light churned before him, revealing the marching army. “So brave,” he murmured. “So noble.” Behind him, figures in black chanted in tongues that no living thing should speak. Halvek raised a silver chalice filled with ember-dark liquid. “The Moon will weep,” he intoned. “The wolves will fall. And from their ashes…”

“We tell them... but we lead them too. If the Hollow is rising, then we fight with everything we’ve got.” Before they could take another step, a loud crack split the air. From deep within the forest, a massive spire of black stone tore through the ground twisting, alive, and humming with ancient power. John’s heart dropped. “That wasn’t there before.” Sarah’s voice was a whisper. “The Hollow has risen... and it’s building something.” The black spire twisted higher, unfurling like a serpent. From its jagged edges, streams of dark mist poured into the air, swirling above Black Hollow like a second sky. People began pouring from their homes some screamed, others dropped to their knees in prayer

Before he could respond, the hall went quiet. Not gradually. All at once. Next thing she knew. The Hallowed Hall was the kind of room that made you understand why certain spaces were built large not for capacity. Stone arches rose sixty feet overhead. and the modern lighting suspended within them managed the remarkable feat of feeling both cold and warm simultaneously. The floor was dark marble. The seating was arranged in a wide semicircle facing a raised dais at the front. and every seat was filled with vampire students to the left Nora had been cataloguing the room since she sat down.