Olive Silverlock Novels & Stories

One raised its head to the dawn and howled, the sound tearing through Kaelen’s bones. Werewolves. The pack fanned out, circling. There were at least six, maybe more in the shadows. Kaelen gripped the useless remains of his poker before realizing it had melted to slag. He had no weapon. Only the fire inside him, and that was as likely to kill Elira as their hunters. The largest of the wolves padded forward, towering over the others. Its silver eyes locked on Kaelen. “The blood stirs,” it growled, its voice a gravelly rumble that no beast should possess. “He belongs to the Moon.”

"My beast already gave you a direct command. Return to your cushion and shut your jaws right now!!" "Zack..." "Noble lady, our Silverclaw Healing Lodge does indeed guard the '78 Sendevision and the '82 Consaice vintages within our deep mountain cellars, but our pack only possesses two sacred flagons of each left in existence." The moonhall server tilts his head toward Amy, his elite training keeping his expression perfectly smooth and empty of any true warmth. Then he turns his entire body to face my mat, and his posture shifts into a deep, respectful bow.

She glanced at the bottom of the page where she saw that it was written by, Mariana Victain. “The Supreme Magus?” This got her intrigued to continue reading the entire excerpt. “The treasures of Immortalis are biologically engineered artefacts known as Black Liver and Silver Fangs. Both were created after several experimental failures involving the blood of the innocent and the tainted hearts of the most vicious wild beasts. The key component of crafting these artefacts came from the hidden inscription on the Cronus monolith. This ancient discovery could only be understood by an adept sorcerer known as Olken Vaud.

Queen Serena questioned. Before Brielle had time to think, a loud BUZZ! startled her. “Ryker?” The Queen asked. “Lyko’s of Athen’s.” He answered, earning himself a nod from the Royal. “Question nine,” The Queen began as she skimmed her eyes over another card passed to her by Jacques. “When did it become apparent that silver could be used to injure wolves?” BUZZ! River and Brielle locked eyes for a moment as they both pressed the buzzer at the same time. Amusement flickered in River’s blue orbs as he observed the frown on his mates face.

It was safer that way. “Sorry excuse me Luna Lilith we wanted to check what colour napkins you’d like?” Looking at the samples the omegas held out I looked them over before finally settling with the silver. It wasn’t as boring as the cream or beige, yet it wasn’t as tacky as the gold. The silver also held a meaning. Mykel’s wolf was silver, a breed of wolf known for their extraordinary gifts.

She told Silver guards to hold Alex as he tried to separate us. “Orla.. I..will makeeee…you pay for this…” I struggled to make out those words, but Orla laughed hearing them. Silver kicked my stomach twice, I grabbed her legs and bit her with all my strength. “Let me go..you fucking bitch..” Silver screaming dragging her legs from my tight grip. Orla pulled my hair, “Ahhhhhh…stop…” I screamed, pulling my hair from her tight grip at the same time letting go of Silver's legs.

“No, you’re not.” He steps further into the room and holds something up. A strip of dark metal. A broken brinks clasp. My stomach drops. “We found this in the wreckage,” Caelric says, voice clipped. “Not standard issue. Not black-market either.” Soryn’s posture shifts—subtle, lethal. Caelric’s eyes flick to him, then back to me. “It has a stamp inside the lock.” My fingers curl into the blanket. “A stamp?” He nods once. “A Regent seal.”

Those impossible silver flames licking beneath my skin. I hated that he’d noticed. Worse—I hated that he hadn’t looked away first. A chime sounded. The Alpha Council stepped onto the raised dais. Every conversation died instantly. Elder Myrien approached the podium with a tablet in one hand and a weathered scroll in the other—the scroll drawing whispers from older wolves. No one touched those unless it was serious. “Tonight,” Myrien said, voice amplified through hidden speakers, “we reopen the Prophecy of the Silver Veil.”

Witch-taint. ​“Kai,” a soft voice calls out. ​Liora steps out from the shadows of the room. She looks exhausted, but her hazel eyes are fierce. The Silver Dagger is unsheathed in her hand, its ruby pulsing rapidly. ​“Miss Ophelia says the magic is too deep for herbs,” Liora says, stepping up to the cot. She looks at me, asking for permission. “The Blessing in my blood... it repels silver. The dagger channels it. Let me try.”