Panther Claw Novels & Stories

Hidden. My pulse spiked. He reached inside and pulled out a small wooden box. Worn. Familiar in the way something dangerous always is. He opened it. My breath caught. Black feathers. Several of them. Neatly stacked. Waiting. My stomach dropped. The Pure Claw. Not a rumor. Not a guess. Real. And he was part of it. --- My heart hammered so loud I was sure he could hear it. I needed more. Something clearer. Something undeniable. I leaned closer –

Although Lawrence thought it was unfair, it was his victory no matter what. He would not refuse. “That’s enough. Stop playing around and just do it,” Lawrence urged the black panther. The panther was equivalent to the early stage of the sixth zone of humans. It was quite powerful no matter where it was. However, Lawrence could still control it easily. The elders of his guild captured this panther cub for Lawrence when energy revived back then. The panther was only in the first zone back then and became so powerful in just three years.

The crowd boos and screams at Katch. Saint takes advantage and lunges forward, digging his claws into Katsh’s shoulders. His feet land on Katsh’s thighs, digging in with his sharp toenails to secure himself. He uses one hand to pummel Katsh on the side of his head with his other hand claws deep in the werebear’s trap muscle.

Glowering his eyes, he saw a panther's claw digging into his skin. Another scratches me on the face with its claws and I fell to the ground. They growl at me, hissing. Crawling and trying to cause a swirling wind around him was able to hold some back but that took a lot of his strength. These vicious panther wanted his flesh. Sensing how numerous they were, he created a shielding circle around him. It was an orange ring and it sparks at every effort they make to break it. He could see cracks lingering around its walls.

To put it mildly. “The Claws run a bit of a…. an underground competition, shall we say, where we pitch two men — fine athletes — against each other for sport. Then, our guests are free to place wagers on the fighters.” “Spit shine a turd, it’s still shit,” Declan said with a grin, which Patrick immediately mirrored.

the scruffy wolf instructed. My heels squeaked across the floor tiles as Claw dragged me outside. Shots were fired, and I screamed loud enough to rattle the skies. Claw’s limbs erupted with coarse brown fur, his sharp nails protruding through his fingertips. He held me face-down in the dirt, powerless to move. Unable to determine if my friends were living or dead. Grief froze my heart with an icy chill of despair. “Hold still,” Claw rasped, his nails shredding through my denim-clad hips as he struggled to undress me. “Where’s the mark?” he muttered, searching my throat for scars and pulling clumps of my hair out.

And in the center of it I came to realize it wasn't any other park that had caused this chaos but panthers. But not like the ones I had seen before. These move differently; their bodies are larger, muscles tighter, and their movement sharp, fast, and controlled. Their eyes glowed faintly under the dim lights, not wild but focused. By how they acted and fought, it seemed they were searching for something or maybe looking for me. One of them lunged toward a guard, claws slashing with brutal precision. The man barely had time to react before he was thrown across the floor.

The two exchanged a glance, claws flashing out as they lunged straight at me. At the last possible second, Zephyr moved. Relying on his extraordinary hearing, he stepped in front of me, blocking their path. "Zephyr! Have you lost your mind? Why are you stopping us?!" Cael’s eyes were bloodshot as he snarled through gritted teeth. "In the last life, she kicked us into the enemy pack as shields. Have you already forgotten that? Move! I’m going to tear her apart!" "Be quiet. Don’t move." Though blind, Zephyr’s senses were sharper than anyone else’s.

A claw curved outward where flesh had been. It was long. Too long. Almost as long as my palm to my fingertips. Black. I sucked in a breath, scared. I had seen wolves, seen them shifting. Seen blood and bone tear itself apart into something else. But this? This was different. Ignoring my stare like it didn’t exist, he ran the claw down his other palm. Clean and fast as a pool of blood welled immediately. “Blaze what the hell—” I started— And then he tipped his hand.

The claw tore through the floor. Stone exploded upward. Warriors were thrown backward. Ancient pillars collapsed. The entire First Path shook as though the mountain itself were screaming. For several seconds, nobody moved. Nobody breathed. The claw alone was larger than Dreadfang. Black scales covered its surface. Ancient runes burned beneath the scales like molten silver. Power rolled from it in waves. Raw. Ancient. Terrifying. The First King's face had gone completely pale. Althea noticed immediately.