Shadow Moon Ranch Novels & Stories

Rebel and Ryder yelled and pounced on Shadow shifting into their wolf form and started nipping at him. “Hey, hey!” Shadow yelped as Ryder nipped his thigh just missing his most sensitive areas. “Those aren’t balls you play with.” He shrieked covering his crotch. Jen tried not to laugh but she couldn’t hold back. “Thanks for the help love.” He grumbled. “My pleasure. Imma here to help anytime.” She snickered. “Ryder, Rebel get off of Shadow.” Storm laughed. “Off now.” She snapped her fingers at them. They playfully growled at Shadow and ran to their mom’s feet. “Okay you three shift back, fingers and feet please.” She ordered.

"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.

--- The main training ground was full when I arrived at noon. I had expected a small audience. Maybe a dozen pack members. Instead it looked as though half of Shadowcrest had come to watch the Nightshade wolf make a fool of herself. They lined the edges of the ring, standing on raised platforms to get a better view, whispering to each other as I passed. I caught fragments of conversation. "— heard she's the reason the strays are here —" "— barely two months here and already causing trouble —"

I opened my eyes and saw him carefully pulling something from his hunting bag. It was a small, rare spirit beast—still writhing in his hands. A Moonshadow Mink. It lived only on the most treacherous cliff faces, its fur shifting color under moonlight. "I just secured the East Valley," he said softly, a boyish pride slipping into his tone as he placed the struggling creature beside my pillow. "The hunting grounds there are unbelievably rich—streams full of fat fish. I'm planning to build a nursery for our future pups there. We'll call it the New Moon Cradle."

A kingdom that looked like what it was — something dead pretending to live, something wrong pretending to be a world. He crossed into vampire territory at dawn, three days out from the human palace, wearing the plain clothes of a travelling servant and carrying papers that named him Renn, employed by a merchant house that did not exist. The border wasn't marked with walls or watchtowers. Just a shift in the road — the stones better-laid, the trees on either side older and unmolested, and a quiet that was different from the quiet he was used to. Not the quiet of absence. The quiet of something that had been left alone long enough to settle into itself. He kept walking.

Lucky there’s nothing deep needing stitches. In my grieving and broken state, I begin to feel faint. I let myself go and pass out. Opening my eyes I feel myself transported into another realm. Standing in front of me is my grandmother’s house which stands in front of a looming property which I dare not go near. The “LeFleur” mansion. A place said to belong to my ancestors from centuries ago. A place that continues to haunt my dreams since a child. Something about this place calls to my soul, it pulls me and begs me to return. The house stands in the Normandy countryside. She feels it in the wind and air, she feels it in the depths of the earth, it’s as if a spirit like a piece of me is locke

The freaky end of days was coming. I faced the camera, my voice steady for all the people in the city to hear. "The freaky apocalypse is here, folks. I'm going to help you out as best I can. First up, find cover where the wind can't get you, subways, basements, factories, banks, any safe spot." Lights flickered on in every underground parking lot. The ground rumbled with a deep roar, setting the stage for Jim as he led his crew of infant spirits into a clash with the Haunts that sliced through the wind.

The intel came wrapped in bloodstained leather. A name. A location. And one word written in an old dialect Racheal hadn’t seen since she was a child: “Nest.” That meant the Flamebound weren’t just regrouping. They were growing. And they were doing it just five miles outside her own border. --- The Shadow Circle moved at dusk. No official briefing. No Assembly permission. Just silent riders on dark-painted wolves, traveling narrow paths through the pine forest where the moonlight couldn’t follow.