Blackwood Estate Novels & Stories

Luke stares at the little house longingly. “Want to make me scream again?” I nudge him playfully, he laughs. “As much as I want to, I respect Esther far too much to make her daughter scream within hearing distance.” I smile, “The guest house is soundproof.” JJ opens the door for us, “Thanks JJ.” “Your welcome Miss Blackwood.” I roll my eyes, “It’s Lily, please call me Lily.” JJ gives me a curt nod and I know he will continue to call Miss Blackwood. I keep walking when I notice Luke isn’t with me.

We finally arrived at Blackwind Mansion, the sprawling estate where Emmerson, the patriarch of the Blackwinds, lived. The place was huge. The size of the estate was overwhelming, with its vast gardens, two pools, one inside, one outside, a mini-golf course, and a staff quarter tucked away behind the mansion. Despite all this huge space, it always puzzled me how Emmerson managed to live here by himself. Technically, he wasn’t entirely alone, he had his staff, but still, it seemed a bit crazy to have all this place and be here on your own.

' 'I suppose it's the safest thing to do,’ I say, agreeing with him. As we park the car and step out, we suddenly feel a sense of doom. There’s a dark and eerie feel to the Blackwood territory. Dead trees surround the place, and a storm is brewing beyond it, adding to the eerie darkness. The only sound we can hear is the wind gushing through the trees. The dead branches and trees dance like they are all in a ritual. The dry leaves crumple under our feet as we approach the front door. The packhouse is a black Gothic house with huge windows all around. I can see a white curtain moving. Pack members peek through the window at me. Dried vines cover the house. Nathan and I glance at each other, t

“Please don’t.” “No, listen. I know you don’t want to talk about it, but if we’re going, we should at least know what we’re walking into. I’ve heard things—from some of the fourth-years who went last year. They say the Blackwood Estate is like something out of a storybook. Huge, old, enchanted in places. Like—it’s not just rich, it’s magical.” I groaned and shoved the pillow harder against my ears. “I said don’t.”

The elevator doors hissed shut. The drive to the Aethelgard Estate was a blur of high-speed turns and the smell of burning rubber. Zander pushed the SUV to its limits, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. Every siren in the city seemed to be converging on the hills, but we were ahead of them. We knew the back gates. We knew the ways the police didn’t. As we crested the final hill, the sky was orange—not from the sunrise, but from the flames licking at the roof of the west wing. The grand symbol of Blackwood’s power was a funeral pyre.

Far beyond her temporary student apartment on Blackwood Lane lay the Blackwood Sanctuary. It was a sprawling, hidden estate tucked away in the deep, mist-heavy pine forests just outside the borders of the St. Jude crest. Protected by iron gates and decades of carefully bought privacy, the stone manor house was a relic of the late 19th century, completely cut off from the modern grid. It was a place where time stood completely still, preserved in candlelight, ancient library stacks, and dark velvet. The Coven of Three As they packed up Maya's art supplies, Elena gently detailed exactly who was waiting for them behind those iron gates. Her

“Welcome home, Mrs. Blackwood.” The words echoed in Emma’s ears as the sleek black Rolls-Royce glided through a pair of towering wrought-iron gates. She slowly turned her head toward the window. Her breath caught. Beyond the gates stood a magnificent estate unlike anything she had ever seen. A long driveway, lined with towering royal palms and blooming white roses, led to an elegant mansion that seemed to touch the sky. The three-story building was built from ivory-colored stone, its grand balconies adorned with intricate ironwork. A crystal fountain sparkled in the center of the circular driveway, while perfectly manicured gardens stretched across the vast property.

“Then we do what we must.” Maxwell glanced at me. “You ready for this?” I wasn’t sure anyone could be ready for what we were about to do. But there was no time for hesitation. I squared my shoulders. “Let’s go.” --- The Blackwood estate loomed ahead, its towering gates shut tight. The once-grand mansion had fallen into disrepair after the war, its windows dark, its gardens overgrown. But beneath it lay the vault—one of the most heavily guarded places in the supernatural world.

"But yes. If it comes to that, I'm ready." The drive to the Blackwood estate took twenty minutes, leaving Silver Creek proper and heading into the more exclusive section of pack territory where the wealthiest and most influential families maintained their compounds. The Blackwood estate had been in the family for generations—sprawling grounds, a main house that was practically a mansion, and enough security to rival a small fortress. It had always intimidated me, this physical manifestation of everything the Blackwoods represented. Power, legacy, tradition—all the things I'd supposedly threatened by existing.

About Ethan on a rock at the edge of a clearing in the northern forest watching me run with nothing calculated in his expression. I thought about what it meant to be worth the waiting. Then I stood and walked back down the mountain path toward the lit windows of the estate, and the silver light moved through my palms with the easy warmth of something entirely at home in the hands that carried it. Far south, in a darkened study in the Blackwood pack's main estate, Alexander Blackwood was sitting alone in the chair behind the desk where the armrest had cracked six weeks ago under the pressure of a decision he had not been strong enough to refuse.