Little Silver Library Novels & Stories

We reached the Great Library—a tower made of translucent moonstone that spiraled downward into the very heart of the silver island. The Archives were not filled with books. They were filled with Echo-Spheres—hollow globes of silver-glass that held the memories and secrets of the First Luna’s lineage. "Find the section on the Seventh Cycle," I instructed Leo. "Look for anything regarding 'The Anchor of the Unborn' or 'Silver Corruption'."

She rummaged through the compartment where the grimoires were stored until she located a book that may have the answers she was seeking. “Probably this has that context.” She took out a book titled, ‘The Witches’ Glossary of Verboten Sorcery.’ Silvia spun through the pages until she locate a chapter that looked like it had what she was after. She set herself in a more comfortable position where she could peruse the pages. The flat surface of the pouch acted as a stand for the grimoire to rest on. “This line right here explains something.” Silvia read a paragraph that had some information about the treasures of Immortalis but not in complete detail. She glanced at the bottom of the page where

That night, under a star-filled sky, we sat on the swings and shared a knowing smile. Luivelle University, here we come!

“Hands like light itself. Healed my brother’s fever with one touch and he was good as new by morning.” My head lifted before I realized it, honing in on the conversation. The speaker was a merchant, middle-aged, half-drunk, spinning tales to a group of guards around his table. I let their laughter wash over me and listened harder. “Where?” someone asked, snorting. “The moon doesn’t walk among us mere mortals.” “Silver Glen,” the merchant said. “A small village near the northern ridge. They call her the Silver Healer. Some say she’s blessed by the Goddess herself. Eyes like molten silver, they say. Glows when she works.”

I heard silver's tiny voice as I turned and looked at her "hey silver, you are up, ok come on you need to prepare for school go to the bathroom immediately I will look for something for you to eat before leaving, come on be smart" I Said poking her noise as she smiled. I ran outside with the little money I have to buy some bread for her I can manage with the hunger till I get back but she can't, she is just a child 8 year old only "ah ah you can't run away from me any longer young lady" I heard the landlady said as I turned my back to run away but she caught me

His boots echo against the stone, steady and deliberate. My wolf bristles. He smells of iron and lies. When we reach the library, I slip inside quickly, needing the illusion of space. The library is enormous—floor-to-ceiling shelves, the scent of old paper and dust and magic woven through the air. I begin to scan the titles, pulling out histories, pack records, anything that might mention Silver Fang. Rhys stands at the entrance, arms crossed, gaze unyielding. I can feel his eyes on me like a blade at my neck.

The sun was setting somewhere behind the buildings, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. Silver was quiet for a moment. Then: "You're really going all out, aren't you?" "You deserve it." "I don't know if I do." I glanced at her. Her profile was soft in the fading light. Her hands were folded in her lap. She looked small. Unsure. Nothing like the fierce girl who had kicked me in the balls and called me a douchebag. "Silver," I said. "You survived something terrible. You're putting yourself through college on a scholarship. You're the smartest person I know and also the most stubborn. You deserve more than one nice night."

I looked at him shocked, no wonder they were all shocked. “I saw her wolf in a book before. She looks exactly like the wolf,” Jared said. “What book?” Silver asked. “I once saw a book in the library. The name of the book was white Wolf. I remember thinking it was some made-up story, but I guess I was wrong,” he said. Things are becoming even more confusing now. “Can you look for the book while she gets ready for the challenge?” Silver asked. “Yes, sure,” he replied, standing up. He left the dining room with his mate running after him. Silver stood up, taking me along with him.

Silver murmured, everything confidently. “Take the guards with you,” I insisted in a broken voice. “Thank you. Please take care of yourself. However, I will try to see if I have something in my books first.” She gave me a sympathetic smile, but that’s what they were. Just an empty smile! They will never be able to mend what’s broken inside my chest now. After Silver left to read and possibly find anything in her stupid books in regards to the wailing brides stealing my mate’s body, I was left alone.

There is a deceptive quality about small towns. They market themselves with glossy postcards and romanticized notions of quaintness, suggesting nothing but cozy streets, sun-dappled squares, and genuinely friendly, overly helpful neighbors. But you soon learn the truth. Silver Ridge has a distinct flavor. It's not the sugary-sweetness of a tourist destination; it's more akin to a square of exceptionally dark chocolate, the expensive, high-quality kind that carries an underlying, deep current of bitterness, the taste that sneaks up on the back of your throat long after the initial bite. And right now, in the late afternoon sun filtering across the pavement, that complex, unsettling flavor sme