Shadowcrest Novels & Stories

Voron screams through his bullhorn, his voice cracking with a sudden, primitive terror. The northern fighters panic. Three of the mechanical mortars discharge with a dull, heavy *thump*, sending canisters of silver dust screaming into the air above the river. But before the metal can even bloom into a cloud, Clyde moves. The Shadow Alpha lets out a roar that shakes the valley to its core. A massive, fifty-foot silhouette of an obsidian wolf erupts from his skin, a mountain of liquid black energy that leaps across the boiling river. The shadow-spirit swallows the silver canisters whole, the metal exploding harmlessly inside the void of his darkness, suffocating the chemical fire before a sing

It only changed how you felt about having done it. Cort brought thirty hunters to the vampire kingdom on a grey Wednesday morning. He was careful about the terms when Aldric met him at the outer gate — they were not defecting. Defecting implied a loyalty being abandoned, and Cort was precise about this. What they were doing was exercising judgement about what they were actually in service of, having been given information they hadn't had before about what the order had actually been in service of. The distinction mattered to him and Aldric let him have it, because Cort had earned the right to be exact about the terms of his own conscience.

But the more I pulled, the more complicated everything became. At midnight, my phone buzzed again. *“The mirror shows what’s hidden. Look closer.”* I glanced at my reflection in the windowpane. The woman staring back at me was pale and exhausted, but her eyes burned with a quiet determination. Slowly, I moved closer, finger trailing the cold glass. And then I saw it — a flicker, subtle but unmistakable. A shadow moving just behind my reflection, a shape that didn’t belong. My heart skipped. ---

The banners of the Ashwood wolves draped from the high walls, black and silver, their sigil—a wolf’s head encircled by a crescent moon—casting an ominous authority over the room. Kael stood at the center of the chamber, his massive frame casting a shadow longer than any torchlight could stretch. His presence alone stilled the air. Power radiated off him in waves, invisible yet crushing, like the press of a storm before lightning strikes. His amber eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, not from anger, but from sheer Alpha dominance.

The crow lands on the altar, its feathers melting into smoke. *“Thank you, little Alpha,”* the Shadow purrs as his form solidifies—a towering hybrid of crow and wolf, violet eyes blazing. *“Now die.”*

It is simply… knowing. And so it watches. The Maddox family, with its tangled bloodlines and secrets buried deep in the earth, has long caught the Watcher’s interest. There is something about this particular branch of the family—a darkness that clings to them, one that runs deeper than any curse or family history. The Watcher understands the curse that haunts the Maddoxes. It has always been there, feeding off their fears and choices. It feeds on them, and in return, it grants them power, binds them to an ancient promise that they cannot escape. The family’s history is like a dark river, winding its way through generations, but it is one that eventually leads to a crashing waterfall of inevi

"You'll have a fifteen-minute window before their people can respond to distress calls." "And if the barriers keep us out?" another soldier asked. Blake smiled that political smile I'd learned to hate. "The Shadowshield only affects supernatural creatures. You're human. You'll walk right through." The vision shifted, showing the mercenaries loading into unmarked vehicles. Moving through Ravenridge's streets like ghosts. Surrounding our compound with military precision. They were already here. I jolted awake from the vision, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Axel," I shook his shoulder urgently. "Wake up. We have a problem."

“If that girl is part Umbrawolf, she won’t fight as a human.” In Nightshade Valley, wolves cloaked in black performed shadow-tracking rituals. Alpha Selrik sat on his throne of twisted black roots, watching as crescent-moon witches chanted over glowing runes. “Trace the last Knot’s echo. We must predict where she’ll surface next,” he told his spiritual adviser. “Use soulbinding crystals. We’ll sever her from her wolf.” In the cliffs of Shadowbrook, iron-armored scouts moved through swirling fog. Alpha Thorne, quiet but precise, mapped out every fault in the Umbra’s defenses. He laid illusion traps along several known paths.

My name is Elora and I reside at the Blue Mountain Packhouse. I have a slim figure, long curly blonde hair which I usually wear up in a bun so it is out of my face. My eyes are a deep blue which I love. I am not a normal girl though. You see I am a shewolf, my rank at the packhouse is an omega. I don’t know my parents because they passed away when I was just a tiny baby, so I don’t have any memories of them. The only thing I have is a necklace locket from my mother. I have never taken it off because it makes me feel close to her spirit.

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.