Mothwing Cloak Novels & Stories

I pickef it up, instantly recognizing that it was actually the potion which Caelum used for my wings to shrink on my back. I retraced my way back to the threshold and took a trip inside the kitchen to grab myself some sandwich. It will be a long trip and I do not know if I will have any chance to grab some snack while I stay afloat. I hastily stuffed three sandwiches inside my satchel and carefully picedk my way out, swinging the fletching of the arrow by the gap between the front doors. I yank door open and shivered as the cold night breeze blew on my face. I tightened my hold at the green cloak that Vivian has lent me and stretched my back, smiling as my wings sprouted from them. The cloa

I make a beeline for Zee and Jamie, who are doing their own crazy version of the foxtrot, twirling each other around to Crazy in Love. The song ends, and they double over in laughter. I’m only a few feet away from them, and about to call out when someone abruptly steps between us, blocking the way. Dark hair. A hooded cloak of raven feathers, glistening moss green, midnight blue, royal purple. A finely-wrought silver mask studded with an intricate filigree of clear stones, possibly diamonds. They shine like moonlight made liquid: new-fallen dewdrops upon a spider web.

The forest deepened in color, shadows thickening like ink swirling in water. Charlie shivered. Not from cold— from energy. Old energy. Wren slowed. "Stay close. Mom's... home... can be disorienting the first time." "Why? Does she live in a tree? An underground lair? A wolf-themed Ikea?" "Not exactly." Branches rustled overhead. Something luminous flickered through the canopy— moonlight caught and held in a web of silver. Only it wasn't a web. It was a barrier. A shimmering veil stretched between trees, thin as mist and bright as frost. Charlie stepped toward it and felt her skin prickle, the same electric pressure she felt before a storm breaks.

– retractable gauntlets forged from the first star Coyote ever tricked - For Rowan → “Grimoire of Unwritten Futures” – a living book that rewrites itself to counter any spell thrown at him - For Nerida Vey → “Singularity Tentacle Sheaths” – armor that turns her tentacles into miniature black holes on command - For Kayo → “Nine-Tail Mirage Kimono” – fabric woven from illusions and foxfire that lets her become any one of us at will All of them require materials from the drowned Dacia. Perfect timing, Crown.

The rest all have this same deep forest green cloak over their clothing. I’m not sure if the Rift is slowing down the battle for my sake or if I am so used to watching battle that it feels as if time has slowed, but the black and grey cloaked figures appear to be all male based on size and the width of their shoulders. Their movements are broad and sharp, more aggressive. The forest green cloaks seem to be more ceremonial, with flecks of something metallic woven in. Not something you would see on a traveller. Their movements seem to be more fluid.

"There are wards, cloaking spells, and ancient angelic protections known to the archives. I'm transmitting the schematics now. They're complex, they require immense focus and power to maintain, but they are your only chance of traversing the Maw without being swarmed." Ava's phone pinged several times. She scrolled through something, her brow furrowed in concentration. "Looks like a lot of cosmic knots and prayer beads. I'll need a few minutes to translate this angelic gibberish into something usable. And Misha, your raw power will be essential for weaving these. Think of it as… spiritual camouflage. Damon, your hellfire might also offer a unique frequency, a distortion field against their s

Sera shoved the blue-gray cloak into my hands. “Change. Now.” I looked at the cloak. Plain wool. Dark blue threaded with gray. No silver trim. No ceremonial stitching. No crownwork. No white silk. Human witness colors. Not queen. Not witch. Not Luna. Witness. I gripped the fabric tighter. Beyond the ridge, Thorncrest horns sounded again. Closer this time. The patrol was moving fast. Maelis turned to her Brackenhold wolves. “North line. Keep them from circling.”

The staff had to sleep somewhere. A plan crystallized, cold and clear. I pulled my artifacts from the vault. The Ghostweave Cloak’s cooldown had reset, granting another hour of invisibility. The Berserker’s Pauldrons hummed with restored power, their latent strength seeping into my shoulders. It was enough. I armored up, the pauldrons settling with a familiar, heavy comfort. The cloak shimmered over me, rendering me a ripple in the moonlight. Then I slipped out into the dead night.

My skin had muted down to normal, but its previous glow must have been enough to attract the attention of a moth, which landed on my hand. It was a large moth, perhaps six inches across, and had a bright red, furry body and two, large, ruby spots on its wings; giving it the appearance of predator eyes. They even glimmered a little like cat eyes; the opalescence in the moth dust catching the moonlight. Those wings shivered as the moth tip-toed slowly up my arm to cling to my shoulder. "Hey there." I glanced down at it; not at all bothered by its presence. This insect was one of mine, a twilight creature, and I sensed our connection immediately. "I'm on a super secret mission to rescue a bunch

She brought it closer to his face and Bolton took a step back swiftly. "Oh my God! You don't say. Is that what I think it is?" His golden eyes lit up with excitement. "Yes, my love. This right here is a Wormwood Moth. The moth that destroys any being even the immortals. One sniff of powder from its wings is enough to slowly take your life. You will not realize it until it's too late." "When are you planning to put it to play? Where?" His eagerness would serve to irritate her but she was too engrossed in her evil plan to mind him.