Elowen Novels & Stories

“Father, Mother, Arnulf, Wulfgar, Anwen, Owein, Maiyyun, Weylyn.” “Greetings, Alex,” Owein, the eldest here, says. He is a round man with a long grey beard, from one of the original Ayzena packs. He reaches his hand toward me, palm up, and raises it signaling for me to rise. “We heard of the manner of your arrival. What news do you bring?” I link my hands behind my back, taking a drill stance. “I’m sure you have already heard.” “Yes—but we would like to hear it from you.”

Gwen I climbed down from my horse and ran blindly in the snow. Arrows darken the sky like a swarm of deadly hornets, raining down upon the combatants with relentless fury. Shields clash as soldiers form a shield wall, bracing against the onslaught. Swords flash in the sunlight, carving through the chaos with deadly precision. Amidst the chaos, champions emerge, their valour shining like beacons in the midst of darkness. But they are slaughtered. They rally their comrades, leading charges and striking down foes with legendary prowess. Yet, even the bravest warriors falter in the face of overwhelming odds.

As I climb into the ring, I expect to see a huge person but the person in front of me is just a few feet taller than me and maybe a little bigger than Darien. I remember seeing him in my Aunt’s folder. Elio Mordecai. His father is the Alpha of Pack Faolan. Elio is the calm and quiet type with dark blue eyes and brown hair which appears reddish in the sun. I spot tattoos at his back when he flexes his arm.

“No pursuit. No spies that I can smell.” Finn stretched, yawning. “Disappointing. I was hoping someone would try.” Seren shot him a look. “Don’t tempt the universe.” Aria stood beside Varek, watching the last of the neutral packs disappear into the forest paths. The southern Luna paused before leaving, turning back. She approached Aria hesitantly. “My name is Elowen,” she said. “From the Sunreach Plains.” Aria inclined her head. “Aria.”

I couldn't maintain eye contact with him, his presence alone was heavy on me, and I couldn't hide the odor that reeked out of his body. Sinner smells really bad, like rotten food, or spoiled milk mixed with acid. He reeked of foul odor and if care is not taken, I could throw up. I've always heard the performers gossip about Sinner, they whispered him being a predator, and how cruelly he treats everyone. They claim the only person he fears was Bishop, and as long as Bishop has no idea what's happening inside this penthouse, then Sinner feels he is in charge, and owns the world.

From afar, Ulrik and Velda stood atop the battlements, surrounded by wolf warriors. Velda gazed at the training ground, her mint pheromones laced with sulfur. "Look, someone's challenging Adelaide," she remarked, her slit pupils narrowing with excitement. Despite the distance, Ulrik recognized the challenger—Ellen, the Ironthorn Army's formidable "Frostwolf's Claw." His cedar pheromones suddenly roiled, and a low growl escaped him, "Ellen." Velda said with interest, "Ellen's one of the stronger warriors in the Ironthorn Army. Wonder how long Adelaide can last under him."

The Helm of Awe covered my left shoulder and on my right was Valknut. Yggdrasil was in the middle and flowing from the roots of the tree was a wolf head. On either side of the wolf was a Jericho 9mm, Kiran’s personal touch to my Zeta mark. From the bottom of the roots, down my spine, was a ghost rune designed by Malachi with my name Jericho adorning the top of Yggdrasil. An hour and a half later Marcus was finished and I put my shirt back on. Tonight I would have to undress with every member of the pack present and shift for the first time in my life.

he said cheekily as he tied the cord that held the britches around his waist. Astrid smirked back at him, seemingly completely unaffected. "Close your mouth, Dóttir. There is no longer anything to see." But her mother was wrong. There was a lot to see. Acres of muscles across his chest and abdomen. The broad shoulders that wielded the giant longsword with such ease. Even his forearms bulged with muscle as he tied up his pants. The tattoo of a howling wolf on his left shoulder that covered part of his chest fascinated her as well. Wait. Did the lines just move? Was the sight and scent of him causing her to hallucinate. Ulfhild tore her eyes away and took two steps back when all she really wan

bold to come alone. Trumpets blared as Kael and Elian entered from a side archway, the crowd rising in unison. Kael strode forward in regal black armor etched with silver veins, his broad shoulders unyielding, stormy gray eyes sweeping the assembly with quiet command. Elian walked at his side, transformed in midnight silks that accentuated his slender yet toned frame, the Luna's crown now resting lightly on his raven hair—accepted without rejection, its moonstones pulsing in harmony with his rare female wolf's essence.

Julian growled. ​He stepped forward, the weight of his armor clanking with a lethal rhythm. The silver-edged blade didn't tremble. He leveled the point exactly at the hollow of my throat. ​"My name is Elowen," I whispered, my voice trembling. "Julian... look at me. It’s me." ​"You speak the General’s name as if it were a prayer," a voice mocked from behind him. ​A woman stepped out from the shadow of Julian’s massive war-horse. She was beautiful, dressed in leather armor stained with the same red as the lilies, her hand resting familiarly on Julian’s shoulder.