Omega Shadow Novels & Stories

“Surrender your pack. Kneel, and I will spare the children.” Raven tilted her head, Shadow pulsing around her. “You think fear will break me?” The Wraith’s smile was cold. “It always does.” Raven lifted her blade, letting Shadow slide along the steel, black flames licking along the edge. “We are Shadowstorm,” she said, voice low but clear. “And we don’t kneel.” Lightning cracked in Ragnar’s palm, a sharp scent of ozone filling the air. The Wraith’s smile vanished. “So be it.”

I spun around just in time to see the first wolf charge me—eyes glowing an unnatural shade of violet, mouth foaming with something too dark to be real. I slashed with the dagger. Its neck opened clean, but no blood spilled. Only smoke. The creature twitched once before collapsing into itself, like a dying shadow. “What the hell is that?” I gasped, backing away. I had never seen such a thing and it terrified me how be was able to create such a thing. Dorian stepped forward, eyes fixed on the Owlshard as it hovered midair, spinning now—faster, faster—with tendrils of black smoke curling around it.

The darkness loomed around them like a cloak. Sekhmet carried an old-fashioned torch he pulled from a hole in the wall to light the way. It was a bit theatric and unnecessary, considering vampires and werewolves alike could see in the dark. But it set the mood for torture nicely; causing shadows to dance across the walls. A bleeding.

"Why don't I have a reflection all of a sudden? Is it the magic mirror?" "A shadow witch has no reflection because shadows have no reflections. They can't be seen in mirrors and so can't you. This me you are seeing is you from the inside. This is what we are." "Now, what is a shadow witch?" "Shadow witches are the darkness of the nights, children born from the energy of Hecate and Hades. They see things others can't see, they do things others can't do, they are like the bridges between the moon, the living and the dead." It sounds menacing.

Golden arrows slowly emerged, timidly trying to chase away the shadows of the night. The great fire disc made its appearance. First, it emerged as a red line growing wider and wider until it rose victorious into the angelic blue sky, ready to stretch its arms over the whole earth. It tamed its color slightly, becoming comforting as it shyly soaked up the night frost with which you would think it was soothing its own color.

She takes my hand in hers and squeezes it gently. "We are werewolves, not monsters," she says softly. "Our pack is called the Shadows and is led by Gabriel Valley. He became our leader after his father's death some months ago." I sigh and turn to look at her. Her blue eyes look sad as she stares at me. "I promise you my child, you are not a monster. Being different is your greatest power," she whispers, grazing her fingers across my eyebrows. "You'll see," she adds with a faint smile. I stare at her drowning in my thoughts. I think about everything. Me. Them. The pack. I'd have sworn last night was just a dream but I know what I saw and felt. It was all too real. "Your father and I are going

It is excruciating as a part of my energy drains into the chosen. A black shadow rivets down my arm into her. The energy surges through us, covering her body in a menacing glow. The emblem on her stomach dissolves into her skin like a shadow. She screams and convulses until her back arches as she pants heavily, falling back to the altar unconscious. ‘It is done, Sire!’ The Guardian Oracle - Summer of 1974 - Wolf Island

The next morning, Matilda woke up feeling groggy and disoriented. She had tossed and turned all night, haunted by nightmares of her parent's death. As she got dressed, she tried to push the memories out of her mind and focus on the day ahead, she heard a knock on the door. She opened it to find two omegas standing in front of her. One was a tall, thin blonde named Felicia, and the other was a short, plump redhead named Emily. Matilda recognized them as two of the pack's other omegas.

Throwing up my arms to both sides, I shout, “Stop! Calm the hell down!” All three shadow wolves freeze. Well, their bodies do—the smoky shadows clinging to their fur do not. It continues to swirl and ebb like oceans of witch magic flowing over their tall, nightmarish forms. Limbs too long, too crooked, bodies bony, teeth like knives… god, they’re hell monsters. “We’re two days from the antidote,” I snap, my gaze darting between the three of them. Their eyes glow behind the smoke, and in this form, their irises are all the same color—an icy, vibrant blue. “Pull yourselves together, you idiots.”

Sienna appeared unexpectedly. “What are you doing here? Luca hissed, startled then annoyed. “This isn’t your place.” Sienna held up a tablet, “I’ve been analyzing Marco’s old communications. There’s a pattern in the way the Torres Clan attacks.” “What kind of pattern?” Nico asked, curious. Sienna pointed to the screen. “They always strike near the end of shipments, when the guards are most tired. If you stagger the loading times and switch routes unpredictably, you’ll disrupt their timing.”