Mothwing Cloak Novels & Stories

It exuded an aura of dread and malevolence, as if it were a living entity feeding on the fears of those who dared to gaze upon it. The fabric of the cloak appeared to ripple and shift, like shadows playing upon the surface of water. It possessed an uncanny depth, absorbing the feeble light that trickled into the dungeon from a mystical well adorned with the white glow of the moon. The cloak's darkness seemed to drink in the luminescence, creating an eerie contrast that heightened the sense of unease.

"Brought you something." "If that's what I think it is," "It's a cloak. Made it myself. You're wearing it over your dress." Alerion turned slowly. "She's not wearing a cloak." "She's absolutely wearing a cloak. I spent three weeks making this." "I don't care if you spent three years. She's not wearing it." "Why not?" "Because cloaks are impractical for a ceremony where she needs to move freely and quickly if something goes wrong." "It's not that heavy. Look," Zane shook it out. The whole thing was covered in tiny embroidered wolves. Silver thread on blue fabric. It was actually really pretty. "See? Lightweight. Easy to move in. And it represents her bloodline."

Talon’s eyes flickered with a hue of his magic, “the shadows will guide me, and I will guide you. My Alpha gave Moonstone’s Beta his word that the best guard would protect both of you – that’s me.” Suki shivered and rubbed her arms as they blindly walked through the forest, only seeing the nature that was around them if it entered within their shadowed walls. Suddenly, the beautiful summer day was wasted as they hid from the warmth of the sun. The shadows lingered so close that, despite her werewolf powers, it felt as if the smoky walls were stripping the warmth from her. Talon reached into a bag he had brought along with him and pulled out a folded cloak, matching the colours of the Moonsto

In silence. In choices. In ghosts no one saw but me. The candle I lit sputtered before catching, its flame twitching like it, too, wanted to flee. I didn’t blame it. I moved to the armoire, pulled out the green velvet cloak stitched with the sigil of my mother’s bloodline. Not royal. Older. Wilder. The wolves that ran before there were thrones. My fingers lingered on the embroidery, the serpent with wings, swallowing its tail. I draped it around my shoulders and fastened the clasp like armor. Not for warmth. For warning.

I don’t really expect an answer, but…. The seer chuckled lightly and said, “Let’s just say he almost gave you a third mate. You obviously are not attracted to the man, but he was hell-bent on having you, thanks to Baltazar.” Silence followed as I understood the meaning of his words. Mom ran her fingers from my shoulder down. She held my hand, her face gentle yet serious. Her gaze locked with mine before she opened her mouth, “This cloak is the highest form of honor the gods and goddesses give a witch after defeating a powerful entity. It comes with a variety of powers, but it also comes with vast responsibility,” she paused, trying to fight the tears threatening to fall down. “I know I don’t

Somewhere above those stars, the blood moon was rising, its crimson light not yet visible but already influencing the barriers between worlds. "It's time," I said finally, as full darkness claimed the caldera. We moved silently from the cave, Mira taking the lead. True to her word, she summoned what strength she had recovered, drawing shadows around us like a cloak. It wasn't true invisibility, but rather a blurring of our outlines, a darkening that made us difficult to distinguish from the natural shadows of the landscape. "Stay close," she whispered, the effort of maintaining the shadow cloak evident in her strained voice. "My range is limited."

She sighed, shuffling over to him nervously. "I bought you a traveling cloak for our journey and travels," he told her, gesturing her to follow him. She was about to protest, but she choked on her words when he grabbed one of the hooded cloaks from his horse, Renata. The cloak was black with maroon lining and stitching. He was already draping the lush material over her shoulders and fastening it accordingly with amethyst gemstones decorating the fasteners. His eyes scanned over her body, obviously satisfied what he saw.

Embroidered with golden Moon Goddess totems and star tracks, it represented the high-Luna status. The matching shawl, woven in azure and gold, featured flowing clouds and wolf crests. The headpiece, studded with over ten blue and red moonstones, had delicate cyan bone-like extensions at the back, slightly upturned like wolf ears. Considering the winter ceremony, a special cloak accompanied the gown. Lined with rare beast fur, it was embroidered with blooming Moon Goddess flowers before being sewn together, symbolizing clan prosperity. Following werewolf tradition, the only occasion transcending norms, the cloak's edges also bore simplified silver wolf patterns.

The once busy roads of the Kingdom of Myrthana were mostly empty. Except for Orcs and mercenaries, almost no one dared travel between towns or villages. The road to Erylas, the capital of Myrthana, was empty except for four riders and their horses. A fifth horse had the carcasses of two deer and some pelts and furs. The riders were dressed simple—trousers, pants, and cloaks. The cloaks were mottled grey, green, and brown. A man with wings was embroidered on the left side of the cloaks—the mark of the Dark God. The riders had the hoods of their cloaks over their heads, and shadows hid their faces. They rode in silence, studying the dusty road or the green forest.