Oblivion Blackwood Novels & Stories

The world outside the valley was full of small, hungry silences. They didn't talk about it much, but they all knew. The victory in the Blackroot Ravine wasn't a final one. It was a skirmish. A warning. The great Oblivion was bound, but its echoes, its children, were now loose in the world. Like weeds sprouting in a newly cleared field.

If Lucas Blackwood wanted to see what hunted in the dark, I’d give him a front-row seat. I poured a drink, the glass shattering in my grip before it reached my lips, the whiskey pooling at my feet like spilled blood. I didn’t even look at it. I stared out into the night, eyes burning with the promise I’d make him regret every breath that brought him near her. He thought he knew predators. He thought he was one. But I was older than his bloodline. Older than his forests. Older than the moon his kind worshipped. And I was done pretending.

In just one night, one night of wanting to let it all go—I was betrayed, heartbroken, almost killed and now finding out about a group of hunters. “I know it’s a lot to process.” My savior murmured, almost like he could read my mind, “Trust me I felt the same when I almost died in the hands of an Alpha.” My eyes widened, “An Alpha. Do you mean— “A Blackwood, yes.” He nodded, “The Blackwood family is notorious for producing the most evil and tyrannical Alpha’s in all history. My father was killed by one. I, too, was almost killed by one. Those bastards have been terrorizing the town for years.”

“I have reason to believe that that Gamma is still alive. And there’s a chance he’s the one leading this new organized rogue faction.” Mason swore again. “That Gamma’s name is Pierce.” “…oh no,” muttered Mason. “What is it?” I asked. “She mentioned a wolf there. Said his name was Pierce. From Blackwood.” I closed my eyes. “Mason,” I said quietly. “Blackwood was disbanded years ago.” Another silence. This one hung heavy. And then he whispered, “Shit.” I turned back to the table, staring at the manifest like it might change. “Do you know anyone nearby? Someone we could call?”

Lilith’s POV The next morning, Magnus summoned me to his study. He didn’t smile. He just gestured for me to sit, then he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk like a man about to make a deal with the devil. “There’s a pack,” he began, with his dangerously low voice. “Blackwood.” I nodded, recognising the name instantly. Blackwood was a respected and powerful pack. I had tried going there to see if they'd take me in, but other rogues told me they were unapproachable.

But secrets were exactly what they needed. After Draven Thorne's chilling message, Damien’s focus had shifted. Protecting Sofia from this external threat was paramount, but he couldn’t fight blindly. They needed to understand the Blackwood curse, its true nature, and its connection to The Hollow Order and this terrifying figure, Thorne. Kieran’s frantic research had unearthed fragmented mentions of Elias Blackwood, a figure shrouded in mystery at the very genesis of the curse, and the possibility of contacting ancestral spirits bound to powerful bloodlines. “Are you sure about this, Kieran?” Damien asked, his voice low, echoing slightly in the confined space. The crypts had always felt… watc

Marcus and Spencer stood at the forefront, their expressions betraying their confidence. I took a deep breath, feeling the power surge through me, ready to speak the truth they had tried so hard to conceal. “The Blackwood clan has a secret desire. A desire to corrupt all realms, to make them bend to their will. You stand at the brink of destruction, facing a choice that could save you.” The murmur of disbelief rippled through the crowd. I could see Marcus’s eyes narrow, assessing the situation, realizing he could not ignore what I was saying. “You think you can sway us with empty threats? The Blackwood family will not yield to your whims.”

The hauler’s engine groaned, its massive gears grinding to a sickening, abrupt halt as its safety overrides forced the brakes to lock. Before the dust could even settle, the Blackwood warriors swarmed the perimeter with flawless, terrifying coordination. They descended from the cliffs on silent guide lines, dropping onto the tops of the cargo containers like predatory birds. Handheld plasma torches flared to life, casting harsh, flickering orange light against the stone walls as they began breaching the security locks. "Beautiful," Liam whispered, his hand shifting on the railing, his knuckles brushing against hers. The heat radiating from his skin was intense, a stark contrast to the freezi

On the verge of death, it looked beautiful. Was this the end? Was his life truly over as a useless Omega? Just as the Shadow Wolf King's fangs descended... The system's voice echoed. Louder than ever. Clearer. [100%] [Werewolf Evolution System Activated Successfully] [Host Identified] [Raven Blackwood] [Bloodline Confirmed] [Heir of the First Alpha] [Beginner Reward Granted] Raven's eyes widened. And a moment later... The silver wolf symbol on his chest exploded in a light that blinded the entire forest.

It was a single, devastating word. BLACKWOOD. Elena stood up, her long black hair swaying with the movement. Dante Blackwood. The King of the North. The man who had been her father’s shadow and Grant’s greatest rival. "He’s back," she whispered. "He’s not just back," Marcus replied. "He’s hunting in our woods." Elena walked to the window, looking down at the city lights. Grant thought he was losing a wife. He had no idea he had just become the bait in a war between two gods.