Black Swan Fan Art Novels & Stories

She held up a grin, blood dripping from her mouth. "Let's do this…" I gulped down the last drops of blood from the bottle, sending her instructions with my eyes. The humans had all run into their homes, giving us a proper sight of the mountains. As we closed the gap between us and the mountain, I couldn't believe my eyes. Long silver rods stood at opposite ends, flames burning between them. A black seal held the silver bars in place, stopping it from opening. "Sire, we have to hurry; the inscriptions in the clouds have begun to fade." Sabrina let out. She was trying her best not to give up having only strength and agility alone.

"Get me another shirt… the gray one." With practiced ease, he stripped off the white shirt he had just put on and raised his hand toward me, waiting, as he always did, for me to hand him the freshly pressed one. The phone screen still glowed. I caught sight of Janine’s message: "Mr. Quinn, tonight’s event requires a gray suit." The professional tone was undercut by a playful cat emoji that followed right after. "What are you staring at? Where’s the shirt?" When I didn’t respond, irritation hardened his features.

Aria’s POV The brushes moved gracefully between my fingers as I studied the final touches on the canvas before me. The painting had evolved into something I hadn’t initially envisioned—a lighthouse standing tall and steadfast, surrounded by a mesmerizing swirl of colors that seemed to represent the changing seasons. Spring’s vibrant greens melted into summer’s golden warmth, which blended into autumn’s fiery hues before softening into winter’s cool blues and whites. The scene was stylized and whimsical, the waves and skies swirling together like a dreamscape.

"The 'Sovereign Exhibit'. Tonight, we aren't just selling memories. We are selling 'Access'. The highest bidder will win the right to 'Edit' the Sovereign’s future in real-time." Silas Blackwood let out a roar that shattered the "Atmospheric Static" around him. He shifted into his massive, gold-veined wolf form, his presence creating a "Zone of Biological Chaos" that made the velvet seats of the audience turn to grey static. He lunged for the "Auction Block," his jaws aimed for the Shadow-Heir’s mercury-white frequency. "Stay away from her!" Silas snarled, the gold-and-sapphire starlight in his fur glowing with a terminal intensity.

"Or do they prefer caviar and critiques?" He snorted, squeezing my fingers. "Ramen, probably. Hides the desperation." His tone was joking, but his thumb stroked the back of my hand—a small anchor. "We'll wow them anyway. Your portfolio's gold. That falling series? It's got teeth." I glanced at him, the streetlight gilding his profile—sharp jaw, the faint scar above his eyebrow from a bar fight he wouldn't talk about. "Teeth, huh? Careful, or they'll bite back." Truth was, those sketches terrified me: figures plummeting through fractured skies, limbs splayed in mid-air, faces twisted not in fear but ecstasy. Dreams I'd had since childhood, the kind that woke me sweating and reaching for charc

Vardan hadn't just bitten him, he had planted a claim that burned through his nerves. Sora grabbed a blank canvas from the wall. He needed a distraction. He sat on a high wooden stool, dipping a broad brush into pitch-black paint and slashing it across the surface. The lines were jagged, sharp, and aggressive. But when he closed his eyes, those burning gold pupils in the darkness of the bar haunted him. Unconsciously, his fingers reached for the ochre paint. He traced a sharp circle resembling a predator’s eye in the center of his dark mess.

“It’s—wow.” He nodded, his eyes glinting with quiet satisfaction. “Now you see it.” I traced the edge of the drawing with my gaze, wondering about the artist’s intention. I recalled seeing a swan painting in the hallway too. “Why a swan, though?” I asked, turning around to catch a sad flicker through his eyes. “It’s not that I don’t like it, it’s just I saw one painted in the hall the other day. What’s with the obsession?”

(Third-person's POV) The gasps that arose from the venue were deafening. What everyone saw was not the simple landscape they had expected, but a masterwork that left them breathless. The painting, titled "Free Alpha," was a minimalist composition rendered entirely in black and white through the revolutionary candle smoke technique. It depicted an imposing wolf standing majestically atop nine distinct layers of moonlit clouds, each cloud meticulously detailed despite the unconventional medium. The symbolism was unmistakable. The nine layers represented the arduous journey through pack hierarchy, each level a testament to the struggles and victories required to achieve true Alpha status. The p

I want them to feel the same thing as me, I want to see them cry like I did. Why must I suffer when it wasn't even my fault in the end. By the pond where I used to sit by, there were number of swans in there. But mysteriously a black swan appeared and the white swan's looked like they were bullying that black one. A month later, all of those swan's are dead and the black swan was the only resident. I could feel it smirking. Did it drive all of them out, so that it can survive? The Swan's eyes are red and hold pride. It's the nature's law - the survival of the fittest. I looked into its eyes and power isn't something that can be obtained, it should be taken from. I decided, I'm going to be th

Their leader is a black wolf with blue eyes, and he wants to stand on the high cliff and declare war on his opponent. The Red Wolve did not dare to stop but only dared to lean to the side. Wolves usually have gray and yellow fur, but with wolves having white, black, and red fur is very special. The black wolf that received the order to distract Windy was just a wolf with yellow fur because to distract the opponent, he disguised himself to look like Ezra.