Seraphim Fanart Novels & Stories

The evening sun was hitting the floor-to-ceiling windows, catching her in profile and giving her this soft, golden glow. I stood there in the foyer and, for the first time in three years, I just... looked at her. Our group's clubs are packed with top-tier models, and the pack has plenty of high-ranking she-wolves, but they all smell like desperation—that cloying omega scent designed to bait an Alpha. It usually just gives me a headache. But Seraphina? Standing there in the light, she looked like a piece of fine art. Cold, quiet, and impossible to look away from.

She looked fierce and beautiful, a warrior queen who had tamed the wolf within. For Seraphiel, robes of midnight black, cut low across his chest, revealing the scars that still marked his skin. Silver threads traced the paths of the removed vines, turning his wounds into art. He looked like a shadow king, dark and dangerous and utterly captivating. For Elias, garments of silver and rose, delicate as his wings, almost translucent. The fabric clung to his slender form, leaving little to the imagination. He looked like a fae prince, ethereal and untouchable.

“What did you say?” A figure stepped from the shadows behind the throne. Graceful. Poised. Seraphine. Her long silver-blonde hair flowed in waves over her shoulders, her smile soft and subtle. She wore the traditional Luna robes—a gown embroidered with the Wolfe crest and lined with mating runes. Lucian staggered back a step. “You can’t be serious.” Seraphine tilted her head, amusement flickering in her icy eyes. “It’s nice to see you again, Lucian Wolfe.”

Casie closed her eyes, trying to focus on the faint impressions flowing through her connection to the Tear. Images flickered behind her eyelids, a younger Seraphina, her face unmarked by centuries of hatred, standing before what appeared to be a Council much older than the current one. The Tear pulsed with something that felt like ancient sorrow.

* She leaned over the flame— And in it, her reflection warped — showing her with a crown made of bone, eyes glowing like her mother’s, lips cracked from battle, but still smiling. Then another voice — not her mother’s. Older. Silkier. > “Do you like what you see?” She spun. A figure stood in the archway — elegant, unarmed, dressed in the Tribunal’s colors but with no sigil. Just an opal pendant. Seraphine stepped back. “You’re one of them.” The figure smiled. > “I’m one of *many.* And I’ve come not to fight. But to offer what you deserve.” “Power?”

The sinful thoughts clouded her mind, and she felt hardly satisfied. Pulling her shirt in order to ward off the heat, Seraphine spared the a man a glance before walking away. In order to remain composed, she had to first calm herself down. Her eyes then fell on a stall, and it soon catching her attention, she rushed over to it, showing an excited attitude. This appearance of Seraphine made him shake his head before following after her. Seraphine’s eyes fell on the stuffed toys on the stall which can obviously fly. They had shiny crystal eyes of various colors and were extremely pretty. Seraphine did want to get one of those as a memory, seeing how there were not anything like that back at he

She had been curious anyway—curious to see how he’d react. Fully dressed in her new outfit, Seraphina stood in front of him. “Okay… done.” The Young Master looked her up and down like a scanner. His sharp gaze made her feel a little insecure. She tugged at her hem and gave an awkward smile. “This little horse… kinda flirty, right?” His eyes landed on the cartoon pony printed across her chest, and he chuckled. “Just like you.” Seraphina flushed. She looked down at the shirt. It was a pink long-sleeved T-shirt, with a big-eyed, long-lashed, wavy-maned cartoon pony striking a flirty pose—cute and stylish.

Artemis said, which caught my attention. Was Seraphine a Goddess as well? It made better sense now that I thought about it. How else was she able to manipulate her image to look different? “I hate you!” Seraphine screamed at Artemis. I watched as she lunged herself at Artemis, although it had been pointless. In a matter of seconds, Seraphine was thrown back, against the metal bars and chained to them. Artemis slowly walked towards her. I couldn’t see Artemis’s face, so I wasn’t sure what she intended to do. The way she made her way towards Seraphine, made me wonder if she was pissed or smiling. I knew she found amusement in the weirdest things.

Something about the scene felt strangely peaceful. Then Seraphina noticed a small folded paper sticking out of Zephyr's backpack. “What is that?” “My drawing.” “Can I see?” Zephyr pulled it out. This time, there were four figures. Seraphina. Caelric. Zephyr. And a fourth person standing far away. Seraphina studied it. “Who is this?” Zephyr shrugged. “I don't know.” Caelric leaned forward. “Then why did you draw them?”

Around her, the celestial thrones of the five Seraphims stood tall, as if the echoes of betrayal were but a farce. Each throne was a reflection of its master’s essence, forged from the first lights of creation — now dimmed beneath Luna’s cold dominion. On the right of Luna’s dais sat Sariel, the Seraph of Discipline and Secrets. His throne was carved from obsidian glass veined with silver light, the glow of distant constellations flickering faintly across his armor like the trapped breath of the cosmos. His gaze was sharp and detached. The eyes of one who had seen too much and judged too little. The lunar brilliance traced the severe planes of his face, his folded wings like midnight forged