Oakheart Warriors Novels & Stories

Using my other leg, I leverage my weight to tackle him to the ground, a fleeting Moment of triumph coursing through me. But my victory is short-lived as I lose my balance, tumbling down with him. I find myself sprawled atop him, our bodies pressed together in an intimate embrace. Our chests rise and fall in perfect harmony, our breaths intertwining in the small space between us. Time seems to stand still for a heartbeat as I gaze into his captivating green eyes, their depths drawing me in with an irresistible pull. However, the Moment shatters as he swiftly flips us over, asserting his dominance once more. "Aurora, change your partner. Fight with James," Stefano commands as he rises from the

"We're going out now, Luna. Stay here. Stay behind the silver wards. We won't let it reach the temple." Leaving her was the hardest thing I had ever done, but the duty of the Queen outweighed the fear of the sister. Within the hour, Kaelen and I were leading a unit of twenty elite warriors toward the last known location of Oakhaven. We rode hard, our wolves beneath us sensing the unnatural shift in the world. The forest was eerily quiet; not a single bird sang, and even the insects had fled the coming vacuum.

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Lourain gritted his teeth and shouted back at Marth, "You're getting too full of yourself, you dog! I didn't bother with you before this because I can't kill you right now. I can't believe you took that as a sign to pompously talk to me like that! "Marth, listen well. Once we get out, I'll make sure you're begging for mercy! I'll beat you half to death before I skin you alive and take your Heartblood. That will be the last bit of value you'll ever produce!" Heartblood was a very sensitive topic to the warriors from third-grade worlds. After all, many warriors from third-grade worlds had been tortured to death for it. The death count was immeasurable, and it was something they were very sensi

The clash of steel and the snarl of wolves filled the valley, a deafening symphony of war that shook the ground beneath their feet. Aria fought at the front, her blade a streak of silver as she cut through Kieran’s advancing wolves. The air was thick with the scent of blood, sweat, and churned earth. All around her, the warriors of Moonfall and Blackwood collided with Kieran’s forces, their howls reverberating through the cliffs like the echoes of ancient gods.

He tightened his arm around Erriene’s waist and rested the other across his back with his palm at the back of his head and his fingers buried in those silver white tresses that he missed so much. Erriene laid his head against Alarick’s chest, no doubt hearing his fast beating heart. But it doesn’t matter right now. He wants Erriene to hear it. To know that he can make the barbarian warlord’s heart beat rapidly like this. Erriene can make him feel alive, and he can also take away his will to live with just a look, a word. Alarick felt like a wound had just healed inside him. This was right. Everything was perfect now.

Let this damned pack burn to the ground for all I cared, after they had discarded me five years ago like so much trash. Before the pack house's massive door, I stood stock-still, drinking it in. Workers strode by, carrying equipment, their boots kicking up dust. Warriors marched past in tight formation, swords clanking, beads of sweat falling as they practiced. The building hummed, noisy and alive, as if nothing was out of place. I knew better than that. Somewhere deep inside the plague ravaged the Oakwood Pack, infecting it from within, and no work could hide that.

Orloff growled again, and this time the warriors—now in their wolf forms—were outnumbering him. We made eye contact, and I gave him a final nod before dashing further through the woods. My paws thundered against the ground, branches tearing at my fur as I pushed forward. The sound of the battle grew fainter each minute until I heard Orloff’s final growl fade into an echo. I took everything in me not to burst into a sob as I ran, and again, I didn’t want to make my babies scared. I ran until the scent of the Creekwood warriors vanished from the wind and the trees also changed around me. Until the air itself felt different.

The sound of the rain on the canopy above was steady, rhythmic like a heartbeat that belonged to something bigger than me. I stopped at the old oak. It was massive, older than the pack itself. I pressed my palm against its trunk, feeling the deep grooves in the bark. My fingers curled against it, grounding myself. This was the only place I felt any belonging, not among wolves, but here, with roots and branches that didn't care if I was curse-born or unwanted. I rested my forehead against the bark and let my eyes close for a moment. The pain was still there, sharp and insistent, but it wasn't the kind that broke me. It was the kind that became part of you. The kind that made walls around your