Lost Silver Creepypasta Novels & Stories

It stated, “The seeds of evil, Shadows of destruction. The wrath of the evil shall, Slay the fire of greed.” She read out the prophecy and doesn’t seem to be understood and then it moved towards Karen who was equally excelling in the book. Soon the pages turned and showed him the page with words written in tears of Angles. It was written, “The Bloom Shall Wither, What Not Reliable. Medicine of No Origin, To Cure The Incurable. Agonize Thy Sorrow,

’ Diane gasped ‘I was at mistwoods, I have no time to explain what happened but that boy is Alone and angry and the most mature kid wolf I have ever seen’ ‘Back to what I was saying,’ The sorceress continues undistracted by the sorrowful looks on the Alpha and Luna’s faces. ‘You have to stab him with the orb.’ She raised her hand not to be interrupted as they were about to ask questions ‘It’s a delicate plan and if it doesn’t work then all of Silverwoods will be destroyed. The boy has drank from it and he is now the Alpha. But all he has is his father’s Beta, he is an Alpha without a pack. I have cast a spell on this orb, if you Alpha Roge stabbed X with this Orb and here in Silverwoods, he

She must be saved! Vic sighed. - Do you have any suggestions? He glanced at the doctor, who trembled slightly, wrapping his arms around himself. - Well, purely theoretically, silver should act on the dead, - the teenager gave out. – I read about it somewhere. - Purely theoretically - yes, - Vic agreed, remembering how this same silver, even during his lifetime, began to burn his skin quite noticeably. - Okay, we carefully go around the house and look for silver. Stick together. And I'll stay with Lirta.

“Oh, we’re just getting started. Enjoy the hospitality.” As the footsteps recede, a new wave of dizziness overtakes me. The room tilts, and this time, I can’t fight the darkness that rushes up to claim me. I pass out again, the last sensation I register being the biting pain of the silver as it leeches the strength from my body. ***

My hands pulled my hair, hoping it could ease the pain somehow and then I closed my eyes tightly as I started to rock myself back and forth, humming that lullaby Mom always sang to us every night when we slept. “The Silver moon will rise to brighten the clear northern sky…” And that’s when the walls of the house began to ripple—rippling in waves as if they were magical barriers concealing something inside. Cold sweat covered my face when I saw the skeletons piled into walls wearing silver wolf bracelets on their wrists and I couldn’t recall the first time I saw it. I knew I saw it before but where!?

"Take it. I need to show you what I see when I dream." Tamara hesitated. His hand was more silver than flesh now. "Please. You need to know what Smith is doing." She took his hand. The cold burned. Instantly, visions flooded her mind. Smith in a warehouse at night. Wolves kneeling before him. He walked among them, touching each one. Where he touched, silver parasites crawled under their skin. Tiny. Almost invisible. But alive. "The moon rot," Theo's voice echoed in her head. "Father's gift to his followers."

“Now we quit letting them write the story for us.” Lucien nods. “We get it all down. The fire. The church. Gideon's part. Elias cleaning up after.” “And the silver?” Ruby asks. I shake my head. “Not yet. They'll twist it into ghost stories or crazy talk.” “Strategic delay advised,” the silver agrees. Outside, Hallowpine starts waking up. Engines cough. Doors bang. Same winter morning routine. They have no idea the mirror's already cracked. They have no idea the thing they were afraid of isn't here to punish anybody.

Blue fire spread beneath his skin. I placed my hand against his arm. The bond surged with the image of the moon tower. Blood on white cloth. His body falling. He looked at me. For one second, we stood inside that old death again. Then the screens changed. The missing people appeared. The nurse. The dockworker. The reporter. Dozens more. They stood in dark streets throughout Silvercrest, heads bowed. Behind each of them waited a shadow. Grandmother’s voice filled every phone. “At midnight, they wake.”

Aries crawled off my back, his little face wet with tears as he looked at the empty bed. ​"Lyra?" he whispered. ​I looked at the ring on my finger. The Moonstone was no longer violet. It was black. ​Liam was in a trap. Lyra was gone. The water was poisoned. ​I sat there in the ruins of my children's room, and for a moment, the Silver Shadow wanted to give up. She wanted to crawl into a hole and weep until the world ended. ​But then, I felt a spark. ​It wasn't a spark of magic. It was a spark of rage.

Liora POV ​The corrupted hilt of my own Silver Dagger is the last thing I see. ​The ruby burns with a sickening, toxic violet light in Lirien’s pale fist. Time seems to violently fracture, the high-pitched, clicking chants of the moth-fae slowing to a horrific, droning crawl. The heavy scent of rotting jasmine and ancient sprite-dust suffocates me. I am spread-eagled, pinned brutally by the thorny vines, helpless as the razor-sharp tip plunges toward my heart.