Shadow Tail Novels & Stories

"He was a predictable, short-sighted obstacle driven by vanity and fear. You can bargain with fear, Liam. You can manipulate vanity. The Shadow is different. It doesn't operate on political logic, territorial ambition or economic leverage. It is an apex hunter tracking a specific frequency." With a swift swipe of her thumb, she activated the sync-pad. A translucent blue holographic map of the high northern ridges bloomed into life above the scarred oak table, casting a cool azure glow over their faces. Several tracking nodes along the outer perimeter were blinking with erratic fading gray signals. Liam leaned over the map, his massive frame effectively blocking the ambient chill of the room

Their hands gripped weapons with dark, poisoned blades—the same deadly poison that had hurt my dad! That poison could take down a werewolf, eating away at every vein and nerve, making them weaker and weaker until... It was the worst way I could think of to go. Things happened so fast. They aimed for my weak spots, and no matter how hard I had trained in the past, I could not take on so many opponents at once. "Thorne!" I yelled, my voice almost breaking. He whipped his head around and started to come over, but Isolde clung to him.

I melted into the shadows, dodging each attack, the heat grazing my skin but never quite touching me. I emerged from the darkness once more, sending tendrils of shadow snaking toward him. This time, they were thicker, more solid. They wrapped around his arms and legs, pinning him in place. I tightened my grip, feeling the shadows constrict his movements. Hyperion struggled, his muscles bulging as he tried to break free, but the shadows held firm. For a moment, it seemed like I had him. But then, with a roar of effort, Hyperion's body exploded with solar energy. The shadows disintegrated under the intense heat, and I was forced to retreat, shielding my eyes from the blinding light.

“I’m just saying… it didn’t feel like a normal dream.” He studied me for a moment longer, like he was deciding whether to keep teasing or not. Then his tone shifted slightly. “Well… you’re not entirely wrong about being careful.” That caught me off guard. “What do you mean?” “Shadowbane isn’t like the other packs,” he said. “Their wolves don’t just move around in plain sight. They turn into shadows. They watch without being seen.” A small chill ran down my spine. “So they could be spying on us?” I asked.

logic of the Shadow. "Sarah! The core!" Leo shouted into his comms. "It’s no use, Thorne!" Sarah’s voice was frantic. "The Shadow is using a Recursive Loop! It’s feeding on our own history! Every time we try to reboot, it uses our 'Regret' to shut us down!" Leo looked at Elian. The boy was being pulled toward the Shadow-King by a tether of golden-black light. The "Thorne Blood" in the boy was responding to the call of the Perfection.

Elaine clutched at Malcolm's arm, her voice laced with alarm as she said, "Malcolm, are you really going to ruin James's succession ceremony? How could you bear to break his heart?" James, Malcolm's only pup, had always been a compelling reason for his compromise—however, not at that moment. Malcolm shook off Elaine's grip without a second glance at James, shifted into his wolf form, and bolted for home. He was met with nothing but an empty room, every trace of Mila gone.

Obstacles that could be overcome, but how? Matthias stood still and watched as she continued down the path and noticed that she turned around again, seeking one last glance at him before she disappeared from view. He knew right then and there that he needed to win her over and quickly. He needed a plan to win her over. Immediately! There was no time to waste! Time was of the essence. But how? Pure and simple, manipulation. Manipulation. Reader Notes: Welcome to the world of Das Schatten, aka, the Shadows. The Schatten can turn into shadows and travel through walls and objects, unless they are bound with silver chains.

The quiet thickens again, this time not as a blanket, but a web. Caitlyn snarls. Her eyes go black and stay that way. She raises both hands, and darkness comes up off the seams of the shadows like they’re trying to be rope. “Shadows,” I whisper into the small silver thread in my ear. “Help.” ‘Okay,’ Tara says, brilliant and solemn. The roof shadows move. Not big. Not showy. They just decide they’re busy elsewhere. Caitlyn’s hands close on nothing. “Who?” Caitlyn hisses, scenting a child she cannot see.