Shadow Moth Novels & Stories

Cristiano had been doing his own research behind Zoe’s back, and he encountered a specific name that popped up multiple times - Magdalena Moonshadow. Magdalena Moonshadow, a mystical and revered figure, was rumored to possess ancient wisdom and unparalleled knowledge of the supernatural realms. She was said to have lived in seclusion, deep within the heart of the enchanted forest, where she communed with nature and delved into the secrets that transcended ordinary understanding. Whispers spoke of her powers to communicate with spirits, decipher cryptic prophecies, and provide guidance to those who sought her wisdom. Her age was unknown, for time seemed to bend around her, leaving her eternal

Fuck. Something runs past me hiding in the shadows of the woods. I stop in my tracks, scared of death. I can almost hear my heartbeat. My blood is raging in my veins. "Show yourself," I yell angrily. I hear a low growl and see strange eyes focused on me for a second. I scream and fall to the ground. "Alice! Alice! Alice!" The voices have gotten closer. Something is definitely following me in the woods. I stand to my feet hurriedly. My cloth and shoes have mud stains on them. "Fuck," I grunt. The midnight bell rings from afar in the village. What a hell of a way to start my eighteenth-year birthday. I hear the growling clearly as it draws closer to me. My hands are shaking as I grab the dagge

Seconds later, the sound of large wings disturbing the air drew Nya’s eyes skyward. He appeared over the moon first, as he always seemed to do, pausing there, silhouetted by the silver light, his red and black scales glimmering. Looking up at him, it was hard to think of him as anything other than a magnificent winged creature, a legendary, mythological being of mass proportion. Nya’s mouth dropped open as she gazed up at him, her awe temporarily disturbing her mission.

The darkness loomed around them like a cloak. Sekhmet carried an old-fashioned torch he pulled from a hole in the wall to light the way. It was a bit theatric and unnecessary, considering vampires and werewolves alike could see in the dark. But it set the mood for torture nicely; causing shadows to dance across the walls. A bleeding.

Amino leaned sideways, waiting for the answer that he expected so much. “I-” Alberu opened his mouth. “I know.” Amino cut him off. “I know your deepest desire.” && “Ah!” All eyes turned at the voice. It was Shadow. She was inhaling contentment with a wide smile from ear to ear. Shutting her eyes and leaned toward the sky. Both of her arms expanded to the side while she was feeling the hollow wind that slapped her skin. The birds and the butterflies were coming down from wherever they were and now lined up in a circle while conveying the news that they found.

The crack of bone rang clear even over the chaos. He howled in agony before her blade found his throat, silencing him forever. Even as my chest burned with admiration, I felt a familiar sensation on my skin. A warning. I turned just in time to see them—the Moonshadow Shaman. A figure cloaked in flowing black robes. The person’s face was obscured by a dark hood. Their hands moved in practiced motions, tracing symbols into the air. I felt it instantly—the pull, the attempt to twist my senses, to fade my strength. It was the same sorcery that had stripped my scent away once before. I felt anger in my veins.

The circle flared black and violet, twisting, alive. From the darkness, a whisper rose: Nex umbraa, kai vel’thra… ix shael. Kai’thai kharuun… kai’thra kai’thai. From shadow, I awaken… I am hers. I am warrior… I am and I become. Then it appeared. Not a simple crow, but something older, warped. Its wings were tattered starlight. Its eyes burned like molten amethyst. It landed on her shoulder. Claiming her. Marking her.

Ethan Silvermoon is the second son of Alpha Raymond Silvermoon alpha of the spirit mountain pack in Nevada. For generations the spirit mountain pack has put their main focus on being the strongest pack in the country. It has become tradition that the alpha rules with an iron fist. Frequent and grueling training sessions were required for all packs members starting at age 5. The training started out easy focusing on defensive and conditioning techniques. The training would steadily become more difficult with each passing year. On top of everything else only behavior that the alpha deemed acceptable was allowed, there was no drama allowed and anyone who made a scene or did anything the alpha s

Movement—larger than a human, fluid and precise, but not quite like ours. I signaled Dorian and Bryan to fan out slightly, circling. The shadow moved with uncanny precision, avoiding obvious paths, slipping between the trees as if it belonged to the forest itself. It wasn’t just a wolf—or at least, not a normal wolf. Its fur shimmered with an almost spectral hue, darker than the night, blending perfectly with the shadows. My stomach tightened. Rowan had trained something like this before. “It’s a shadow wolf,” I whispered. “One of Rowan’s creations—or at least one he’s trained.”