Mystic Wolves Novels & Stories

Fallen leaves and dust grazed my back as I rolled on the ground until my legs found some balance and I stood up. Mom ran towards us and her eyes turned white like the moon as she cast a spell on the wolves. It didn’t seem to affect them as they furiously looked at me while closing the distance between us. It didn’t work? “It's not working. It's because of my white magic.” Mom shouted. That made sense. Wolves of the Emerald Pack were also referred to as ‘Angelic wolves’ because their powers and principles were deeply rooted in nature. White magic also worked with the laws of nature, so they might have been immune to Mom’s spells.

Scene 1: Beneath the Rebirth Moon The Rebirth Moon loomed enormous and alive, casting silver and crimson light over the Sanctuary. It shimmered like an open wound in the heavens, its pale glow fractured with veins of red, as though the universe itself held its breath. Wolves from every surviving pack had gathered here, seeking refuge and unity in the wake of endless wars. Light wolves with glistening ivory fur mingled uneasily with the dark-furred Eclipse wolves, their eyes wary, their paws twitching with centuries of ingrained hostility.

Each puzzle seemed to reveal a piece of the story, a story I was becoming a part of. The door slid open, and I stepped into a vast chamber. The walls were covered in even more elaborate murals, depicting the origins of the Moon Wolves. I could see images of the first wolves, their spirits bonded with the moon’s power, giving them strength, wisdom, and a deep connection to the night. The murals told of their battles, their triumphs, and their losses. I felt a deep sense of reverence as I walked through the chamber, absorbing the history that was unfolding before me.

Sure, I was trying to protect her—I couldn’t have known that the beast’s interest in her wasn’t going to get her hurt, but it’d be next to impossible to explain that. I didn’t want to explain it. She either wouldn’t believe me, or she’d be terrified. The last thing I wanted was for anyone in the village to know the truth about me. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that I’d either have an angry mob or the government showing up at my door, and then Alex would lose the last remaining family she had. A fox skittered by, unbothered by my presence. Ever since I became a werewolf the animals in the forest have treated me like one of them. In some ways, it was peaceful.

the mainlanders called it, not wanting to acknowledge what it really was. Before Vukasin, werewolves ran rampant seven nights each month, through the streets, the countryside, and the forests of every nation on the planet. Eurasia and North America had their grey werewolves—dominant on Vukasin now. Australia had weredingos. The colder climates had Arctic werewolves, rare and beautiful, like my lost Bianca with her snowy fur. Eastern Africa had golden werejackals. the African plains had Serengeti werewolves. The forests of Canada and parts of the northern U.S. were home to timber werewolves, and the southwestern U.S. was, in those days, infested with werecoyotes.

Their leader is a black wolf with blue eyes, and he wants to stand on the high cliff and declare war on his opponent. The Red Wolve did not dare to stop but only dared to lean to the side. Wolves usually have gray and yellow fur, but with wolves having white, black, and red fur is very special. The black wolf that received the order to distract Windy was just a wolf with yellow fur because to distract the opponent, he disguised himself to look like Ezra.

I am in their territory. I was surrounded, I changed my run to a walk so as not to provoke the hunting instinct. Did they recognize me? There was a rustle and a growl among the trees. I froze, their yellow eyes shone on both sides, a huge gray beast came out on the road in front of me, the leader is Morgan. And why are they called wolves? They don't look like wolves at all. Huge, at the withers up to my shoulder, with a muzzle more like a bear, but more sinewy, like wolves. The pounding of his heart drowned out all the surrounding sounds. Calmly, calmly. I slowly pulled the handkerchief off my neck and held it out towards Morgan. Almost a "white" flag! Smell, sniff, it's Sarin's scent. Morga

"Rise, immortal. What a sweet lycan you've created. Yes? But you're still a slob because you failed to tell me your name." He winced, realizing he wasn't doing himself any favors in the eyes of the mother of the Dark Creature. As politely as he could, he revealed, "I-I am Darwin of the secret order." "Ah! Good, I understand you're a member of the lycan's Secret Order. Yes?" Alicia made an observation. "It's a beautiful order, but it's lethal. It's from Redberg, right? Amid the Cold mountain ranges, a place of death, great famine, plague, and war existed. Yet, witches are revered by the locals as sacred beings because of their cold mystical properties and long history of magical enchantment,

Eclipse shouted in my mind. I wish there was a volume button to lower her tone in my head. "Or he just got hit by Karma in advance." "Oh! Shut up. He took the blow for you. Cut some slack, would you?" Eclipse retorted. I don't understand what is going on with my wolf. Why is everyone siding with Xavier? Is it because he looks adorable? "He's one big cinnamon roll." Eclipse cooed. Remind me to slap her when I shift into the wolf form.

“Come in, Landon.” “Well, looks like the wolf is out of the bag.” Landon laughs, but I keep my hold on Mazy. “Don’t worry so much. Mazy is like a sister to me…. well technically she is my sister or maybe several times removed cousin,” he says, more to himself. I look at Mazy, wondering what the fuck this dick head is going on about. “We’ve discovered that most white wolves are connected. History tells us there were seven first white wolves. The Goddess created them with Seven unique powers to help bring our packs together. We are all descended from those Original Seven.”