Johnny Silverhand Concept Art Novels & Stories

---- Silverfang Pack--Alpha Carlo’s Throne Room The throne room of Silverfang reeked of blood, musk, and dominance. Alpha Carlo—the Terror of the SOUH—sat motionless upon his massive throne carved from black pearls, bleached bones, and the cured skins of long-dead slaves. His presence alone bent the air. One heavy arm rested against the throne’s edge, rings glinting like sharpened claws, his golden eyes half-lidded as though bored by existence itself. Below him, several elders sat stiffly, their voices reduced to cautious whispers. No one ever raised their voice in Carlo’s presence unless they wished to lose it—along with their tongue.

The wind shifted over the village of Brindlemark, carrying with it the smell of rain, woodsmoke, and something metallic that Kaelen Thorne could not place. He sat hunched over his desk in the loft of his small home, the flame of a beeswax candle throwing long shadows over the cluttered parchment and ink stains. His spellbook lay open to a page on fire wards, though his eyes had drifted long ago from the curling runes. Instead, the margins were filled with sketches of forests, stars, and faces he had never seen but always dreamed of—sharp features, pointed ears, and hair that shimmered like moonlight.

“Trevor Barrier, to swear this oath to the Silverclaw family, you must ensure this with a blood oath. Doing so will illuminate you completely if ever you were to betray, or cause ill intent to Silverclaw. Do you accept?” “I accept.” He put out his forearm and I made a slash with my claw through his palm and forearm. Then I slashed my own palm and forearm and grabbed his in the official were greeting. As our blood intermixed both of our eyes became silver, the silver swirled in his irises and then disappeared into his pupil. The minute it disappeared, a flash of silver emitted from my chest and into his. Trevor was officially a Barrier for Silverclaw. I repeated all of the same steps with the

I had heard all that he said about how he had discovered silver blood and how he was experimenting on them for their power. There've been some that have died, but that didn't hinder his plans. All he wanted was power. From what I've seen from Hannah, who was a silver blood herself, they are considerably stronger than an average wolf. If she had training from a young age, she would have been more powerful than five alpha wolves combined. The fight continued to go on, with Bryan losing sorely, taking hits and punches from all sides, Alpha Jaxon not relenting a bit. He was going for the kill.

I had to struggle to suppress a laugh. The Silver Myst was an urban legend, a pure silver wolf who showed up when things looked at their worst. He first appeared near four years ago, shortly after the war began, and has, supposedly, been seen numerous times since. It was always out of the corner of someone’s eye, or seen by a friend of a friend. Chris and the others were too old to believe in fairy tales.

Chapter 72. Ava's hand snaked up her neck and touched the small swollen spot that had come about as a result of her kiss with him. Her night had been plagued with memories of his lovemaking to her and even now that she was at the office and supposed to be working, she could not take the memories of their night together out of her mind. However, what filled her with excitement was the realization that Mr. Silver was jealous when she was around other men. She didn't quite expect this to be true, but this morning on their way to work, she had intentionally flirted with one of the guards and the look in his eyes was more than enough to melt the sun. She wasn't certain of how she was going to tur

yet it had been a moment in my life I'd chosen a path to save a life instead. However, the fact that rogues had two of these in their possession was crazy in itself. The silver that was used to easily poison, restrain and kill our kind was no ordinary thing and was referred to as silver 'kissed by moonlight'. Its properties included being able to stop the inflicted from being able to use their abilities; whether that be silver handcuffs to stop shifting and strength, or a knife to stop healing. The way the ore was handled before being crafted was a closely guarded secret and I'd heard was also very difficult to execute; knowledge reserved strictly to Elders and a select few only.

Any Soul Scavenger that touched it shrieked in pain. But Siron’s shadow, which was outside the dome because it had stepped out to fight, was trapped. A large Soul Scavenger lunged at it, clawing the shadow figure. The shadow, the blend of The Whisperer’s remnant and Siron’s longing, turned toward Siron. It raised its hands, forming the heart symbol again. Then, it smiled a small smile that looked just like Siron’s, and EXPLODED INTO A MIST OF SILVER AND GOLD, destroying several Soul Scavengers around it in a final blast.

Several bottles of liquor littered the floor. Christopher himself was standing before a huge canvas that had an incomplete drawing on it. His white singlet was soiled with paint and sweat and he held the brush tentatively. When he heard the door open, he turned sharply. I thought he was about to yell at me, but he didn’t. he just paused, staring at me as if I was a mystery.

A thin stream of silver - dust, liquid, both - ran from the corner of his mouth and drew a line into the ash. Then, very slowly, without eyes that saw, his hand lifted an inch and fell. We didn’t move. No one breathed. On the ground beside his fingers, the silver line spread into a shape. Not a word. Not a picture. A symbol. A broken crown. And below it, with a last, wet gleam, a crooked stitch.