Crowfeather Warriors Novels & Stories

Buttercup jerked her gaze toward the windows as the night over Feather Lakes exploded in a cacophony of sounds. She heard screaming as people begged for the death of the Warrior and saw the flames from fiery arrows arc across the sky. She stared, mouth open wide, as smoke filled the sky. What the hell? Arrows?

BEGINNING OF THE END As stormy as the sky was, a hawk flew its way through the vigor wind until it came to open sky were it began hovering over hundreds of green tents in a valley stretching as far as the eyes could see. Finding its way through the tents, the hawk rested on the stretched hand of a Drokan warrior standing by the entrance of a marquee, stationed in the Center of the tents. Tied to its leg was a well folded paper which the warrior pulled out before entering into the marquee. There was a feast ongoing inside the marquee, Drokan warriors drank and cheered as two young slave maidens brutally and violently fought each other with knives.

He continued, "You warriors from second-grade worlds sure love to leave marks on your clothes to show off how special you are. Golden Continent's warriors leave a dark gold pattern, while warriors from the Sacred Water Continent always leave blue clouds. That's how you recognized that I'm from a third-grade world. "You try your best to show that you're special. You think that warriors from third-grade worlds are just livestock you can kill as you please, but that's a hilarious thought in my eyes. Every world has its strong warriors. You feel so pleased with yourselves just because you haven't met someone truly strong from a third-grade world."

Chapter Nineteen: The First Blood and the Forgotten Truth The sky wept ash as Aria rode toward the battlefield. The air was thick with the scent of fire, smoke, and a rising storm—an omen of bloodshed. Below her, hundreds of warriors from united packs moved like a single organism, their growls blending into the rumble of thunder. The truce banners of the Bloodfang, Stoneclaw, Moonveil, and others flapped in the wind, symbols of a fragile alliance formed under the promise of survival.

So what more is this being they have no experience in ever fighting before? Lyall was able to call on Fridolf and Amarok within minutes. They will be flying on their own choppers with the Best of their Deltas as back-ups. Helicent was also contacted and she managed to round up the most Elite Soldiers from The Order of the Sabbath to once again fill their guns and grenades with ultraviolet ammunition. Each one has been trained for this moment. Each one ready to die in battle. So when Remus howled the call to war, the island of Casiafell, rained Werewolves.

As we descended into the subterranean colosseum, the noise became overwhelming. Two thousand warriors filled the stone tiers of the cavern. These were the Shadow Warriors—the battle-scarred outcasts of the Dead Woods. They were alphas, betas, and omegas who had been rejected by their birth packs, criminals who had survived the brutal winter wilderness, and veterans of forgotten border wars. They didn't wear uniforms; they wore heavy furs, iron chains, and leather straps over bodies covered in jagged claw scars. They were savage, and radiated a volatile pressure.

“You did leave some for us at home, right? I give it two minutes before they start fighting.” “We have plenty at home,” she said with a smile. Trip leaned over Dagger and grabbed another container. “This one’s mine!” He turned and started running back to where his own MC was as more laughter and swearing broke out from the Warriors. “Save some for the kids!” Jake said loudly as Dagger stuffed his mouth.

The warriors clashed their heavy shields in a deafening thunder, and a massive wave of proud, primal wolf howls tore from the throats of thousands, echoing off the highest mountain peaks until the very earth shook. Braham stepped forward, taking the heavy golden crown from the cushion. His eyes were burning with an intense, fierce public devotion that made my breath hitch. He didn't look at the crowd; he looked only at me as he carefully, deliberately placed the crown upon my head, his fingers lingering against my hair for a fraction of a second.

Goosebumps appear on my arms as the thought settles in. I'm hyperaware of Ryan's accelerated breath on the back of my neck as he closes his eyes in concentration. These aren't regular men; these are warriors hardened by loss and the struggle to survive, willing to sacrifice their own lives for the cause. Nathan draws a dagger from a belt holster. As one, we mimic his actions, and the small crowd seems to hold their breath. When Nathan gets up and out into the open, Ryan nudges me to repeat his actions. It makes sense for Nathan's most trusted soldier to be on the front line, and yet, I didn't even ponder that I'd be alongside them.

Her sky-blue eyes drilled holes behind Hakan’s head, flashing the three muscular men a smirk whenever their eyes would wander over to where she was. “Then, I’ll be leaving Richard in charge while I go out to the city. Check the borders, I’ve been hearing talks about rogue wolves roaming around the forest from our hunters.” The man called Richard stepped up before bowing his head, as he received orders from his alpha. The three burly men left immediately when Hakan dismissed the group, turning around to face Skye with her arms crossed and looking bored.