Blood Ravens Decals Novels & Stories

Two hours after Valerie woke up, she found herself sitting infront of the vanity while her maids working on her hair and makeup. Usually she would have told them not to bother as she doesn't like to wear makeup. But today she is too numb to open her mouth and tell them to leave her alone. She is wearing a black dress, the colour of the Raven's. She picked this colour for Raphael. She is missing him too much and the pain is unbearable. She is constantly touching the pendant around her neck.

I ask while kneeling down in front of her feeling how uneasy she feels hearing her parents yelling for her. I can’t help blushing a little when I stare into her obsidian eyes noticing her looking me over trying to understand what she is feeling. “I don’t know,” she whimpers at Rebecca screaming for her so I nod and scoop her up into my arms. “It’s ok come on,” I reassure while carrying her towards the barn door to find her identical twin opening the door. They are very much the same except, their hair, eyes, and abilities. Raven’s hair and eyes are pitch black and her aura was that of an extraordinarily powerful Lycan Alpha.

Inside of the circle is the same moon that represents my Lycan King, but now instead of the bright color it was before, it is a light shade of red, with a dark border as dark as blood, with blood dripping from the top in lazy movements. The lightning bolt that crashes down the center of the moon looks etheral against the red background, drawing more attention to the spark that represents my Angel. The black raven that is my beautiful witch has darkened its color to be seen against the red backdrop, with more definition appearing on the feathers that float slowly to the bottom of the brand. My breath hitches in my throat as I move my fingers over the brand that now marks Lucern as mine for al

even if one of those wolves was supposed to be mine. Raven stood in the centre of it all, her red curls cascading like a waterfall down her back, a silver thread woven through every lock. Her dress was nothing short of ethereal, a masterpiece of moon lace and frost-spun silk, with a bodice that glittered like starlight and a flowing train kissed by ancient runes. She looked powerful. Beautiful. Untouchable. And Declan... gods.

Raven cursed, pulling off onto the gravel shoulder before the machine could die completely. Sabrina yelped. “What the hell happened?” “Old girl’s pissed at me,” Raven muttered, kicking the stand down and crouching to inspect the lines, the tank, the chain. Nothing obvious. The Harley had simply quit. “Can’t you fix it?” Sabrina asked. “Not tonight. She needs a proper look-over.” “So… we’re stranded?” Raven stood, scanning the dark stretch of road. Not exactly. She recognized the territory by the painted insignia slashed across a rusted road sign: two crescent moons crossing a skull.

She tied the folded fabric securely around the raven’s leg… a mark only Elia would recognize instantly. “To Elia,” she whispered, her hand pausing on the bird's feathers. “Crimson Blood Pack. Find her.” The raven tilted its head as though it understood. The woman in the cloak gathered the bird in her hands and carried it outside. The sky was still dim, painted in early gray light. “Go, Shadow,” she whispered. With a powerful beat of its wings, the raven soared into the air. Within moments, it vanished into the horizon… a dark shadow blending into the dawn.

“They’re probing us. Testing how close they can get.” Sarah didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Her eyes were fixed on the intruder’s sleeve—an embroidered insignia, a mark she recognized too well. A raven diving into a ring of black thorns. “Katrina’s old unit.” She whispered. “But this symbol… it’s altered.” Damon knelt beside the patch, jaw tightening. The raven’s wings were ripped with new jagged strokes, almost chaotic, as if someone had reshaped their meaning. A new leader.

"Yeah, have it?" Skoteinó chuckled and removed his white smiley mask that revealed the tattoos on his face. The tattoo that attracts Raverine the most is the official insignia of Die Dark — a smiling skull with a bloody fang. The tattoos were all over his dark-toned face. He also had piercings on his nose and lip — a typical look of an outlaw.

Naked forms writhing on the floor stopped their pleasure and peered at us. They glared at us with baleful drug-filled eyes, wanting to know why we were interrupting their orgies. Frank slowly brought his hand out and carefully in his grasp was a small round dark eyeglasses. He raised it to his face and put it on his nose. It fit him perfectly. The armed men laughed at the gesture, falsely believing that all was well in their world. I smiled to seal in the effect. These men just had their last laugh. Ravens often symbolized rebirth and starting anew. However, it symbolized death and misfortune to whoever laid eyes on one.

I stood there with my family, watching the light grow, steeling myself for the fight ahead. Then a single black raven swooped down from the brightening sky and landed directly at my feet. It carried no scroll this time. Instead, the message was burned into its wing in glowing violet letters that faded as I read them: DAWN IS TOO LATE. I AM ALREADY INSIDE YOUR WALLS. The raven took flight again, leaving the words hanging in the air like a death sentence.