Seraphina Collection Novels & Stories

⸻ Alessio looked toward the window again. “My family has survived wars.” “Empires.” “Assassinations.” “I won’t let them see me hiding in a hospital bed.” ⸻ Meanwhile… In another part of the mansion… Seraphina stood alone inside the estate library. Ancient books surrounded her. She searched desperately through hundreds of dusty volumes. Family histories. Church records. Old legends. Nothing. Nothing explained how to stop the curse. ⸻ Then… She noticed one book missing. Only an empty space remained on the shelf.

"Stay here for six months. Catalog the entire collection properly. Every book. Every artifact. Every piece of history is hidden in these rooms." Seraphina's eyes widened. Six months is a long time—longer than any job she has ever taken. But the money he mentioned before flashes through her mind. The commission will be massive, he said. Enough to change your life. "I've already seen pieces in this room that would make museums weep with envy," she says slowly. "The full collection must be extraordinary. And six months would give me the time to document everything properly, to research the provenance of each piece, to—"

“They only have last season's collections left.” Beverley cursed under her breath. Liora’s eyes darkened slightly and sneered. Last season. So that was the plan. Seraphina hadn’t just destroyed the dress. She had likely blocked every emergency replacement possibility too. It was calculated, petty, cruel and very Seraphina. She could almost applaud Seraphina’s plan, if she was this smart, she should have gotten into the company and proved herself but all she did was use her brains for stupid things.

Seraphina's POV “I am Seraphina of the Umbra Claw Pack, the last daughter of the fallen and long forgotten pack,” I began, my voice steady with purpose and quiet rage. “I give my name, my face, my soul to the shadows. In return, let me wear hers.” My voice echoed around the clearing as I enchanted the spell. I felt the wind still. The leaves stopped rustling. It seems as though the forest itself was accepting my words and we're in support of my actions.

that night when I was betrayed by people I called my family. The storm still raged beyond the walls, with rain lashing down and thunder rolling low. Yet the pack grounds below glowed with light. Torches burned. Wolves moved. Life went on, loud and relentless, refusing to pause for grief or tension or unresolved history. Soon, I thought. “Soon.” “Soon what?” I turned sharply and found Seraphine standing in the doorway. She had changed from her gown to something else.. She wore a deep purple robe that was wrapped around her, the color looked really rich against her olive skin, the fabric looked soft and loose in a way that felt intimate without trying.

She looked pristine in her silk emerald robe—the color of the Blackwood Pack—while I was on my knees, smelling of bleach and old shame. "He sounds… in pain," I whispered, wringing out the rag until my knuckles turned white. "He sounds annoying," Seraphina corrected, rolling her eyes. She stood up, tightening the sash of her robe. The movement released a puff of synthetic scent—Rain and Vanilla. My scent.

The next day, [Rina P.O.V] Seraphina returned at twilight with a girl in her arms. I was in the war room, poring over Thalassa's hydromantic charts with Aurel, when the door burst open with a gust of wing-breeze and the scent of rain. Seraphina stood in the frame, her golden feathers dulled to brass, her braid half-undone, her celestial armor - the light-mail she wore when expecting combat - scorched at the edges.

Nessa knew they were not married, but even at that, she knew better than to disrespect the woman staying under her boss's roof even though she knew the love Orion had for her would barely fill a teacup if it was converted to liquid form. “Please ma, I'd love you to hand it over to me,” she whispered, stretching forth her hand. “While I'm being nice.” Seraphina pulled it out of where she kept it— her small brown leather purse that was strictly designed by Chanel. “Ms. Falls,” she started, handing the phone to her as she requested. “The thing is, I asked about you actually, and what I heard about you was good.” Seraphina shrugged, pacing around the room. “But then, I heard something, and that

But it was still a prison. And there—goddess, my heart nearly gave out—they were there. Seraphina sat near a large arched window, the pale light casting a halo around her worn figure. Her silver eyes still held that quiet fire I’d always admired. Bruises and fatigue marked her, but she remained regal, every bit the Luna she was—worn but unbroken. Near her, Deanna rose from a cushioned bench, eyes wide with disbelief and hope, while Elowen stood protectively close, as if shielding her mothers even now.

And today, he was coming to bear witness to her becoming Luna to Kaelion—the very man who had orchestrated her death once. The irony was poetic. Seraphina stood by the window of her room, dressed in a soft white gown that clung to her waist and flowed like mist around her ankles. Her hair was pinned in loose waves, a golden circlet resting atop her head—the crown of the future Luna. She should’ve felt victorious. Instead, her fingers trembled around the window drapes. Something was wrong. She felt it, the tension in the air the lingering fear and nervousness. The wind outside whispered warnings, and deep in her bones—no, deeper—inside the very marrow of her soul, her wolf stirred.