Mothwing Cloak Novels & Stories

Stella, step back She took a step back, looking around at whatever was happening and as she did, the warriors stopped and watched as something emerged from the shadows circling in thin air. A cloud of black mist grew in size as it swirled around in its place. A reeky smell of death and rotten flesh started oozing around us. As the cloud died down, it showed a man wearing a black cloak. The cloak looked to be made out of the air, it went down his back and fluttered on the ground.

The top was an off-the-shoulder three-quarter sleeve buoyance, continuing the flower and feather pattern over the chest and down the sleeves. There was also a matching cloak, made out of the same gold material with the same flower and feathers design except it didn't have the jewels that the dress did. I don't think it actually gets used very often as it looks like it is more for the winter and now that I am a wolf; I am just as warm as Axel is.

I called softly, approaching with my eyes respectfully averted, the heavy cloak held out before me. She stood beside Theron, still dazed from the transformation and the Goddess's blessing, not quite realizing her state. Her skin glowed faintly with residual moon magic, and she radiated power—but she was still my little sister, and I'd be damned if I let her first moment as a recognized Wynter Alpha be marred by embarrassment. I draped the cloak around her shoulders quickly, fastening it at her throat before stepping back. The deep blue fabric, embroidered with silver wolves—the Wynter sigil—fell to her ankles, covering her completely.

I may be heading for the pits of hell, but damn did they know how to dress. I looked out of the little window, the fields and lakes below hidden in the darkness. The first rays of sunlight beginning to appear. Now was as good a time as any. I pull my duffel over shoulder and grabbed the heavy woollen cloak from the bed before making my way out of the cottage. I don’t bother to turn back, but I can feel Lilith’s gaze on my back as I stepped over the boarders and headed out into the unknown.

She was gone. The Ice Wolf Queen handed him a gray cloak. The fabric was thick, folded neatly, clearly prepared long in advance. "Put it on. A Northern winter can freeze a wolf to death." He draped the cloak over his shoulders. The thick gray cloth suppressed his ash pheromones. In truth, no suppression was needed—his ashes were already so thin they were nearly nonexistent. But he put it on anyway. He did not want anyone to see his face.

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.

She gestured toward the pack elders, who stepped forward bearing four cloaks, each stitched with ancient sigils, the thread shimmering silver and blue—woven with frostroot, moon-silk, and Iskralith blessings. “These cloaks are the Mantles of Remembrance, with an additin of the Iskralith emblem” Alpha Kyle said. “Once bestowed only upon the Great Wolves of legend—the founders, the peacemakers, the chosen. Now, they are yours.” She moved to Elora first. “Gamma Elora. Your voice tempered rage. Your counsel held firm even when hope was scarce. Silverpine names you Guardian of Wisdom, for your clarity in the storm.” Elora blinked rapidly as the cloak was fastened over her shoulders. “I only did w

Heinas were meant to be cagey and not this beautiful. I am currently dressed in a full heina: the head covering, face veil, and luxurious man gown. The heina is full blue with gold lacings at the edge, another gold at the arm’s length. It has the name ‘Voldov’ boldly written at the waist where a gold rope-like writing will be, to tighten the clothe at the waist for my lithe body. A yellow veil for the face and a deep blue head covering that looks like it was sewn with the heina. I was forced to let out a gasp when I found the mirror, joined with a screech and a squeak. I am so amazed by the heina. It is beautiful. Like, beautifully beautiful as fuck.

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."

"Take this on your journey." Aurora took the fabric. It seemed alive in her hands. "A cloak?" She asked, knowing it was more. "A Guardian's cloak. It will help you on your journey. The cloak holds far more than meets the eye without weighing you down. Though, I don't recommend putting fresh food in it…I learned that the hard way. Also, if you pull up the hood around your head, your face will be invisible to anyone except those with Guardian cloaks. It does many other things, not even I know all if it's capabilities."