Owl House Novels & Stories

Uncle Oskar said as I was curious why he was being so nice to me after the note he left me. “And the Twins and that stupid prophecy. I just want them to be safe, and I miss Millie being here to help me run things.” I admitted, looking around the disarrayed kitchen. “Luis, do you know why we call our Lady of the Manors Lady-Luna?” Uncle Oskar asked as he sipped his bloodwine. “Because we share territory with the Cypress Wolf pack in the north?” I asked, as I had a vague idea of why.

She replied as he parked the car but the roadside and they got out. Although Louis was following them, they pretended not to see him and didn’t acknowledge his presence. They passed the portal and burst out where Wilder had parked his car. Olivia’s mouth dropped as she stared at the beautiful landscape. She had forgotten what the packs used to look like. Her heart ached because she was slowly forgetting her roots and even without a wolf, she couldn’t deny that she was a full-blooded werewolf. “It’s beautiful” She whispered and he smiled, this is very close to the Darkmoon pack, that’s where the meeting is. Ready?” He asked and she nodded, entering the car, he had opened the door like a gentl

She wore a floral dress and turquoise jewelry and she looked at the house on Whitfield Lane with the sharp, assessing eyes of a woman who had been seeing the future for forty years and was now looking at the present she'd set in motion. "Three stories," she said. "Brick. Garden. Nice." "Thanks, Mom." "Which one is the wolf?" Josie blinked. "How did you." "The windows. Wolf lords like high windows. They like to see out without being seen. It's a denning instinct." Vangie walked into the house like she owned it. She looked at the kitchen. The heavy oak table. The new espresso machine that didn't scream. "And the bull likes to cook. I can smell it. Garlic. Rosemary. He's Polish?"

"Let's move to the next one. It is a bit more rustic yet has all the modern conveniences." They made the short walk to the next home and went in. Tyson was right. It was more rustic, but it still felt wrong. It made Olivia feel the same way as when she walked into a modern lodge that used faux logs and rocks in the interior to make it look rustic. She hated that feeling. It felt fake, as if someone were trying to deceive everyone. She shook her head with her nose scrunched. The men did not ask her any questions. They led her back out of the house and to the next one. They trusted her to know when it felt like the right place for the elderly wolf.

“Go straight for her hockey puck and hit her she-wolf right out of play!” “Which wolf is winning the hockey game right now?” Marcus Hale asks our faces as his feet walk up to the watch party with his wife Elira Moss. “Who cares about the game?” Virelle Knox says, and her eyes go straight to the tiny bundle sitting in Elira’s arms. “There is a new little pup in this territory, and my mind cannot even remember what text our tongues were just speaking about.” “His name is Oliver,” Elira says with a huge, proud smile on her face.

There was no other way to survive under this roof, under their watch. And then, life moved on, as it always did. It was officially the first day of the new school term. Fullmore Academy was the top werewolf academy in the packs, known for its comprehensive program for young wolves. Now that Olive and I were eighteen, we were both eligible to attend. Of course, everyone thought I was just the maid. “This is the quad, where you’ll likely spend most of your time in between classes,” Caspar said, spreading one arm wide as he walked alongside Olive. “Over there is the library. It’s open until midnight.”

17 Years Later… Today should have felt magical. The whole pack was buzzing. The air hummed. Every Omega was rushing around the kitchen like startled bees. The young King Elijah—future ruler of all wolves—was visiting our measly little pack. Which meant: More cooking. More cleaning. More being invisible. So here I was, elbow-deep in steam and spices, surrounded by Omegas gossiping like they were at some fairytale ball instead of a sweaty, suffocating kitchen.

Wolves shifted and headed out without hesitation, pulling out keys, weapons. I watched them go and felt something cold coil beneath my ribs. They came back empty. One by one, then in pairs. Each return stripped another layer of hope from the room. No snapped branches. No blood. No disturbed earth. No lingering scent to follow. Not even a smear of panic or fear. Nothing. Lucas finally turned to me, jaw tight. “Owen’s route took him north,” he said. “Toward the old Moonstone border.” That alone was enough.

"Are you hurt?" "No. Just... bored." She stood up, brushing off her skirt. "Jack, I've been monitoring the external feeds. Valerius isn't just throwing rocks anymore. He's building something on the roof of the Empire State Building." "Building what?" "A launcher," Olivia said, showing him the tablet. The grainy footage showed wolves assembling a massive, trebuchet-like structure made of steel beams and hydraulic pistons. "He's not trying to breach the building, Jack. He's trying to knock it over."

“Whatever’s gone on between the witches and werewolves of New York is none of my fucking business. What’s important now is how to stop The Owl.” “Let’s say we believe you,” I said. “What the hell is The Owl?” “Not what,” she said. “Who.” “The Owl is a person?” I asked. “Yeah. A warlock. A very, very powerful warlock.” “And how do you know all this?” Nathan asked. “Because…” she said, looking away, “I got the vision of everything.” Her voice trembled, and I heard the fear in it. I didn’t want to buy into whatever she was saying, but deep down, I already believed her. She was telling the truth.