Blind Owl Eyes Novels & Stories

Owen passed a startling gaze at the window wherein he saw the red eyes in the darkness but what Owen could see through his blue eyes was a pang of darkness. The red eyes were no longer visible. His jaw dropped on not spotting Lucas. Owen inhaled deeply and said in his mind, startled, "Where did he disappear?"

Violet and Oakley need to be here. “UGH. I know but it doesn’t mean I am happy about it.” I say, looking into his deep brown eyes. It's unfair of the goddess to bless a male with such perfect eyelashes. They are jet black and frame his deep eyes perfectly, splaying out over his undereye when he closes them. Any she-wolf would kill for those lashes. He chuckles deeply, sending tingles straight to my already heated core.

His parents, who saw this sudden change, stood still, surprised and unprepared for the emotional turmoil he was going through, Alexander's mother didn't care. The tough Alexander, who came in really angry and saying harsh things like a volcano erupting, was now crying a lot like a sad willow tree. He looked up, his face marked with tears like rivers on a landscape. His eyes, which were fierce and full of defiance before, now showed a vulnerable look, asking for understanding that his parents seemed to struggle to grasp.

“Kept what hidden? I saw him lose both eyes! Both!” Cullen, who was still leaning weakly against the pillows, frowned hard. “Selena’s right. I saw the wound. There were no eyes left to keep.” The spy shook his head slightly. “He grew another one. Not a real eye. A magical one. A stored one. Something he kept for emergencies.” I gasped. “How does someone keep spare eyes? Like… like spare shoes?” Ava pinched the bridge of her nose. “Can we not compare eyeballs to shoes?”

I just need… Blue eyes form behind my eyes, I close mine tightly willing the image to disappear. I open my eyes quickly and flip Bailey over, looking into her dig doe browns. I wildly buck into her, but her face becomes blurry and the image of a blonde with those electric blues comes flooding back skewing my vision.

The wind rushed through my fur, a symphony of freedom, as I let go of all human concerns and embraced the wildness within me. As I ran, a glimmer of movement caught my attention. I slowed my pace, my keen eyes scanning the surrounding landscape. And then, I saw it—a pair of eyes, intense and fiery, glowing like molten embers in the darkness. Amber yellow eyes, fixed upon me with an unsettling intensity.

Its large round eyes, rimmed with black were fixed on me. The owl drew closer to me as I wanted to pick up the bucket and rush inside, its appearance became more apparent at the closeness. Its feathers were soft and fluffy. The beak was hooked and menacing, capable of tearing flesh with ease, its pupils dilated and contracted, as it stared at me. Despite its predatory nature, the owl exuded a sense of calm and wisdom. Its regal posture and serene expression suggested an ancient creature that had seen many things in its lifetime. The white owl seemed almost otherworldly as if it belonged to a world beyond human comprehension.

He wore them as a sign of brutality, a fear tactic that would not work on our Phoenix wolf. His deep crimson skin stretched over muscles that looked capable of tearing through stone. Two enormous obsidian horns swept back from his forehead, their surfaces scarred and pitted from countless battles. A smile curved his lips—cruel, cold, utterly devoid of warmth. But it was his eyes that froze the blood in my veins. Obsidian. Black as his horns, black as the void between stars. Looking into them felt like staring into oblivion itself. He stopped. Those black eyes locked onto Storm.

Logo’s Gondarian Eye, however, had become even more extraordinary after fusing with the Insightful Pupil—superhuman sight paired with astonishingly rapid calculation. As his pupil narrowed into focus, the entire world seemed to slow before him. Even the slightest movement of the Blackarmored Boar was captured with flawless precision. Within the Gondarian Eye, phantom afterimages of the beast appeared one after another. This was prediction. Wind pressure struck his face, carrying with it the stench of blood and beast, tossing his hair. Hooves loomed rapidly before his eyes, while those spear-like tusks split the air with a piercing shriek.

Only a priest's prayers could ensure that Daeleen received my eyes. Onlookers expressed envy, and some were even moved to tears by Samuel's devotion to Daeleen. What they did not know was that the romantic Capo they were admiring had plucked out his own wife's eyes, and that the owner of the eyeballs on display were now lying on a bed, staring into nothing but darkness. There was no painkiller being administered. All the moans from the pain left me panting for air, with only the ventilator to keep me from suffocating.