Hemlock Grove Novels & Stories

I could hear nothing but my own breathing and my own footsteps, and I needed to get home, the forest was too extensive, there were too many trees, the path was too long. Something had happened with my father and I had been admiring the frozen stream! Finally we were in the city, rounding corners and running down sidewalks until my house came into view and I stopped, inhaling sharply at the spectacle outside. There were two police cars with their red and blue lights flashing, creating a light show of sorts on the white snow covering the lawn. An ambulance was parked in the driveway and there were so many people, who were these people? I pushed through the people who seemed faceless to me, hol

It’s knowing depths let me know things will work out somehow. It’s a place for me to pause, so I stand there and look out at the water, dipping my paws into it. Nature assures me everything will be okay, but I don't understand how it will be. I don't understand until I see the water hemlock by the shore. I know that hemlock is poisonous. I know that I could end my life right now. I could end this stress; I could finally find a place where I belong. Maybe the afterlife is the only place left for me.

the fat man smiled, “hemlock grows deep in the forest— it's hard enough to source as it is. You seem like a well-read young man. I'm sure you'd know it takes at least two hundred years of growth for hemlock to summon a lightning strike. In those two hundred years, it has to keep from pests and absorb enough nutrition among other competing plants. More importantly, once it’s been struck, a devastating fire must follow for lightning to pass through it completely.” “I'm sure you'd also know, young man, that lightning and thunder usually come hand in hand with rain. A lot of the time the fires are put out with rain barely after they have started to burn. It takes quite a lot of coincidences to y

"Do you need us to call Ashton here, sweetie?" "Um no." I said, wiping a tear. "We- we broke up." The room became quiet. "Caleb," dad said. "Bring the shovel. We've got... some business to do." Caleb nodded. "Yeah, we do." And that, ladies and gentlemen, was how I gained a hatred for forest green eyes. But hey, I read somewhere that only 2% of the world's population had green eyes, so there might be a very little chance that I see another one again.

The tensity of the ride lightened when the car entered a familiar place. Their glowing trunks in the night seemed as if they came down from the moon, and they grew up into this breathtaking sight to give light to whoever visited it. The Moonstone Grove. After about half an hour, Alpha Lucien turned onto a narrow, almost hidden path, leading us up a mountain to the less visited part of The Grove. This spot was renowned for its mystical ancient trees, glowing with the presence of the moon in the night.

Elena – POV The Wailing Grove did not welcome us. It never had. The stories about this place had been whispered for centuries of voices in the dark, illusions that devoured sanity, of a forest that lived and breathed and remembered. A place where sunlight died and never returned. And here we were, walking into its heart under the cover of night. The trees stretched high above us like gnarled limbs, their twisted branches interwoven so tightly they choked the moonlight, leaving only slivers of silver to mark our path. Fog rolled low along the mossy ground, thick as wool, hiding every root and crevice.

ELARA POV The sacred grove is nothing like I imagined. It isn’t made of golden trees or shimmering waters. It’s quiet. Still. Carved from shadow and stone, ringed with ancient carvings that lean inward like they’re listening. Amber walks ahead of me in silence. The wind tangles in her long hair, catching on the silver clasps that line her braids. We reach the center of the grove, where a massive white stone juts from the ground. At its base, symbols glow faintly pulsing in a rhythm that feels disturbingly familiar.

But choosing didn’t stop the storm. Link The bloodroot grounds lay hidden in a hollowed-out glen, surrounded by ash trees and the bones of wolves long gone. The place smelled like memory—wet stone, moss, and iron. It was a battlefield, a burial ground, and a birthplace all in one. The council was already there.

she’s perfect for my plans. I hadn't even realized where my feet were carrying me until the trees started to thin, revealing the outskirt of Duskmire Grove. A strange chill swept over me, but I couldn't stop now. I knew this grove was infamous for the traps and stories of restless spirits, yet the urge to disappear was stronger than any fear I had of this haunted place. It was the one part of the territory no one dared enter, and right now, I craved the quiet. I couldn't stop now. I knew this grove.

Now, the grove called to me like a distant memory, pulling me toward it as if the answers I sought lay buried beneath its soil. The trees swayed in the wind, whispering secrets as I entered the clearing. In the center stood a massive stone altar, cracked and weathered by time, but still pulsing with dormant energy. I could feel it beneath my skin—an electric hum, ancient and alive. This place belonged to the Nightshade bloodline. It belonged to me. Taking a deep breath, I stepped forward and pressed my palms to the cold stone. A strange warmth bloomed in my chest, spreading through my limbs like wildfire. The grove responded to me, stirring to life as though waking from centuries of sleep.