Silent Wolf Novels & Stories

She began to fade with the darkness until no trace of her was seen. Lucia jerked away to earth, panting heavily like she had just run a marathon. Strange, she could remember everything she discussed with her mother. In almost all cases, she barely remembered what took place in the dream. That was a sign... The Witch-Wolf is about to be born... "And where are you headed, Jackson?" A voice trailed him as he sauntered through the thick forest after the meeting of his pack in the forest. He felt heavy because like all other times, he had been frustrated, insulted, and used.

It was past three in the morning. We were in Rogue pack territory. No lights. No people. No cabs. I said nothing. I stepped out of the car obediently. Before I could even shut the door, he drove off—fast. The engine roared into the night, leaving me behind. The pain returned—not just in my wolf's chest, but somewhere deeper. Somewhere no healer could reach. I clutched my heart, trying to breathe. Then I started walking. Thunder rumbled across the sky.

I comb my fingers through his dark curls. “Please,” I whisper, not sure what I’m begging for. More? Less? But he pauses, moving back slowly. Then, without a word, he disappears beneath the surface. I gasp at the realization of his absence, heart racing. “No… come back,” I whisper. But he was gone. Ripples shimmer in the waters. And from the far bank, something steps out. A massive black wolf. Towering. Silent. His fur is impossibly dry, eyes glowing that same molten silver, watching me. He turns and walk toward the woods, disappearing into the trees.

His eyes darted through the moving mist. Suddenly, a flicker of motion flashed through my eyes. We both saw it from Afar. It was fast, graceful, and wild. At first, I thought it was the woods playing tricks again. But when the figure came closer, my heart stopped. It was a wolf. And it wasn't just any wolf. Her fur glowed faintly silver, her eyes a color I knew too well—liquid gold, fierce and soft all at once. My throat went dry and my knees nearly buckled.

A hush fell. One of the elders, a woman whose eyes were blind but glowing faintly, stepped forward with a wooden staff carved with moon phases. She began to speak. “In Silverpine, the cold is not a curse. It is a crucible,” she intoned, voice crisp like the frost in the air. “Here, we are shaped by snow and silence. We are taught to hear more with our hearts than our ears, for the wind whispers truth to those who listen.” As she spoke, the younger wolves formed a circle, kneeling in the snow. From a hidden crevice, a pair of great white wolves emerged, moving with a solemn grace. They circled the fire pit, howling once, clear and harmonic.

“That moment. The way your light swallowed her. The scream that shook the battlefield. You were there… and then you weren’t.” I wrapped my arms around myself. “And I’ve been cold ever since.” Silence stretched. And then. A soft wind stirred. Not harsh. Not cutting. Warm. Gentle. Different. I stiffened. From the edge of the grove, something emerged. A large wolf. Its fur shimmered, silver laced with white, like stardust had woven through its body. It padded forward silently, each step reverent, like it knew this place was sacred. My heart pounded.

What the hell was going on? Pressure, yanked at my core, like I was bonded to something. I couldn't move, couldn't breathe properly, couldn't think either. I wanted to tell myself that I was imagining it, that none of this was happening and I was only hallucinating, or worse, I was crashing out, but deep down, I knew it was a lie. I'd felt something akin to this, and the moment I realized when, I froze. I'd felt like this when my wolf whispered the word mate to me

Perhaps the delay meant he was reconsidering. Perhaps the death of his demons weakened him. And then… On one dark cold night— When the moon was a thin, pale sliver in the sky— When the winds were unnaturally cold— When the forest fell silent— A sound echoed across the realm. A howl. Not from wolves. Not from beasts. Not from any living thing. A howl of something ancient. Something furious. Something dangerous. Something approaching. The night shifted. And every wolf instinct inside me whispered the same thing:

Cold, pale bluish steam enveloped my body, while my blood stream was bubbling from the smoldering heat. I have turned into a wolvire. I roared again. My head spins rapidly towards the exit. I need to destroy something so my anger subsides a bit. It was only when I finally came out of the cave that I understood what Hugo meant that this cave was not the same cave in the Demon Forest. I still remember very well what I saw, between now and then. This is definitely not the Demon Forest. This forest is more like a swamp forest. Swamps pooled everywhere and as I swept my gaze around the dark forest, it somehow managed to calm my mind a bit.