Black Winter Marvel Novels & Stories

He tried to suppress the uneasiness and gestured for her to continue. “If, I am saying if, Kieth is the blessed black wolf, and if he is in the hands of Scarlett Witch, she wouldn’t kill him or eat his heart, if that is what she intends, anytime soon. She would only take an action on a moonless night.” Emma shot another arrow of words, hitting Steven. But fortunately, it wasn’t a poisoned arrow this time, but a rare calming one. Navigating his path from the ifs, Steven found the main point. The Moonless Night.

She was angry at being summoned. “I need your help, Goddess.” “Why should I help you?” I gave this question some thought for a moment before I came to an answer. “Because if you do not, your people will be in danger…” This seemed to spike her interest. A perfectly formed brow arching at the statement. “Speak.” This was all she needed to say. She was a Goddess after all. Her presence alone was enough to command armies. “I am Melinda Black. Wife of the Wolf King, and the last surviving heir to the Walker coven dynasty. I am sure you are aware of what this means.”

The twilight in Blackwater did not bring peace; it brought the awakening of horrors that the daylight kept cowed. Helena Moore was just a few meters from her porch when the air froze. It was not the cold of the mountain, but the vacuum of sound that precedes the predator’s leap. From the darkness between the pines, three silhouettes emerged. They were not the hunters from before, but something more organized, more lethal. They were members of the Iron Claws, mercenaries who reeked of dried blood and ancient hatred.

Shaking his head in disappointment, “And we do not accept weak in our pack,” “I Torian Valon hereby reject you, Maya Black to be my mate,” he finished. A retching pain tore through me as though my soul was being sucked right out of me, a shrill scream echoed as I held my chest. Tears stayed down my cheeks as the energy in me was drained. “And I hereby banish you for making an attempt on the future alpha of the crimson blood pack,” a smirk stretched across his face as my eyes widened in fear. He couldn't do that?

His body began to expand, his muscles rippling and tearing through his tunic. ​CRACK. ​The sound of his bones shifting was like a forest of trees snapping in a storm. In a heartbeat, the man was gone. In his place stood a wolf the size of a war-horse, his fur as black as the void and his eyes glowing like twin stars. ​The Black Winter had fully arrived. ​Above them, Seraphina’s face went pale. "Fire! Fire now!" ​But it was too late. The Black Winter didn't wait for the arrows. He lunged, not for the tunnel, but for the very walls of the cavern. He slammed his massive weight into the weak stone, the earth shaking under his power.

Until none of us could lift our sticks anymore. Coach showed up at noon with sandwiches and bad news. He threw his phone on the bench. A video was already playing. Selene stood in the middle of Ridgeway’s perfect rink, hair perfect, smile perfect, wearing my jersey. My number. My captain’s C. She was talking to the camera like she was born for it. “Raven Blackthorne and her little group attacked the elders last night,” she said, voice sweet and sad. “They endangered the entire pack. The Ice Fangs are stronger and cleaner without them. We are focused on winning the right way.”

The Record Stone picked up the names and displayed them for all to see. “This…” Even Mane was stunned by the team slate of the Black Team. “Black Saga” “Black Hammer” “Black Axe” “White Mask” “Black Mask” “Vital Orange” “What a surprise folks. Black Saga has stunned everyone here with his team order. Black Saga is fighting first!”

Retreated. Marcus was screaming orders. Trying to rally. But his wolves were breaking. Running. He looked at Thorne. At Aria. Everything is falling apart. "This isn't over," he snarled. Then he ran. His wolves follow. Fleeing back across the borders. Into the forest. Gone. The howling stopped. The Blackwater wolves returned to normal size. Exhausted. Bloodied. But alive. Thorne collapsed. The magic had taken everything. He lay there. Barely breathing.

“Some people fall in love slowly. Others fall in love while walking toward death.” ⸻ The old chapel stood silent beneath the storm. Rainwater dripped through the cracked ceiling. No one moved. No one even breathed. Alessio De Luca’s cold grey eyes remained fixed on the old woman standing beside Seraphina. The air itself seemed frozen. Finally, he spoke. “So…” “…the Black Widow is still alive.” The old woman’s wrinkled face remained calm.

"How...?" I chew on the inside of my cheek, at a loss for words. I'll just have to tweak her memory later. For now, I turn my attention to the Hunters or WVH, as Winter calls them. They advance with unhurried steps, dressed to kill—literally. Their sleek, charcoal gray outfits hug their muscular bodies like a second skin, while dark grey armor plates enhance their silhouette, covering all the important bits like chest, back, shoulders, forearms, and shins. Their utility belts, laden with pouches and holsters, hold an array of weapons and tools that make me gulp.