Blackwood Novels & Stories

(Kael's POV) The Blackwood Forest breathes with a pulse older than Crescent Bay's steel and glass. Its gnarled trees claw at the moonlight, casting long shadows across the forest floor. I'm lost, trapped in this cursed canine shell, my senses sharpened beyond reason, my whole body aching with every step. The scent of damp earth and pine floods my nose, laced with the musk of my pack. They are all restless tonight. I can feel it in the way their howls rise sharp and mournful. A chorus of both frustration and fear.

He didn't like it that way, his wolf were pacing behind his eyes, baring his teeth at the idea of his mate going to be leaving his protection—but he knew the logic was sound. We left at dawn. The Blackwood was a place of ancient, twisted trees and shadows that moved even when the wind was still. As we delved deeper, the silver light in my skin began to ache. It wasn't the searing pain of the poison, but a heavy, dragging sorrow. "Do you feel that?" Lily whispered, her hand on her dagger. "The trees are mourning," I said.

My office was on the last floor of the building, the windows open to the skyline views of the city. “Laura says the new models will be ready for the fitting tomorrow. Also, Mr Blackwood called earlier today to request a…uhm…meeting”. Diane said, a bit too hastily for my liking for the last information. I turned and looked at her with a raised brow as I also sat on my chair, crossing my legs. Ryan Blackwood is a bit of a character. More like an egotistical, rich, spoilt man-child who believed that everything revolved around him. Women included.

The castles of the three king clans were unanimously decided to be built at the border of the blackwood forest by the will of their ancestors. The blackwood trees were famous for their versatility and durability that could put most types of metal to shame. The Rogue kingdom strictly manages the logging and processing of the blackwood trees, and it serves as one of the main sources of the kingdom’s income. A crescent wall of blackwood trees tightly surrounded the castle grounds, and Raimere could see the orderly soldiers of the Valerius clan in their black and red le

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 e

His dark cedar-and-spice scent wrapped around me as he typed in a complex sequence of passwords, pulling up a heavily encrypted network interface. "I told you, you have me," Nathan said, his deep voice vibrating right next to my ear. "The Blackwood family's legal assets are a fortress. But their black-market ledgers? They get sloppy. I’ve been tracking their 'medical import' business on the eastern border for months, but the manifests never quite made sense to me. Have a look." He tapped a key, and a dizzying array of shipping logs, temperature charts, and cargo dimensions flooded the screens. I leaned forward, my eyes scanning the data.

Lila pov The streets of Blackwood had always been deserted, covered in dense fog that engulfed every surface. The towering pines at the edge of the city danced gently to the sound of the breeze, their shadows spreading like claws across the streets. It was inauspiciously quiet, save for the occasional distant how that sent shivers racing down my spine. Blackwood was known for its secrets, and it felt like I wa: walking right into one of them.

"Viktor." Both women stared. Kate finally spoke. "Who's Viktor?" "My uncle." Ophelia added, "The lunatic." "He isn't a lunatic." "He tried to assassinate our father." "He had reasons." "He used a chandelier." "It almost worked." Kate stared between us. "This family gets more normal every day." --- Viktor Blackwood lived in a place sane wolves avoided. The Dead Forest. Which sounded dramatic until you actually visited. Then it sounded accurate. Nothing grew there. No birds. No insects. No streams. Just black trees that had been dead for several centuries and somehow refused to fall.

Properly look. My hands start shaking. Then I find the photographs. Me outside Hawthorne. Me walking across the courtyard. Me leaving photography. One from my first week at Blackthorne. I turn it over. A date. And beneath it, written in black ink: No known knowledge. Photography could become a concern. Keep her away from west access. I’ll handle her. — R.B. Everything inside me stops. R.B. Roman Blackwood. I read it again. I’ll handle her.

Old Oak heart wood is blacker than dead body wood, Baba had whispered once by fire when she thought I was asleep, blacker than dead body wood because dead body wood is branch that died, heart wood is heart that still beats even after tree was cut into pieces by Council in White War to make fire that kills Whites, heart that still beats under snow somewhere deep where Oak roots go deepest and where First Mother water becomes First Mother blood. Heart wood on trailer was as thick as three waists, not as thick as man waist, as thick as three men together, and as long as two trucks, and it did not smoke black smoke that sank and white smoke that rose and gray smoke that hung in middle all three