Silver Crow Novels & Stories

"She smells of old ink and terror. Tell me, little Scribe, can you see the way we all die just by touching our wine glasses? Or is your gift as limited as your lifespan?" I felt a surge of cold anger. These weren't just mobsters; they were nightmares in silk ties. I reached out and picked up my silver fork, feeling the history of the metal—the hands that had polished it, the mouths it had fed, the secrets whispered over it. "I see enough," I said, my voice projecting with a strength I didn't know I had. I looked Ligeia straight in her iridescent eyes. "I see that this silver was mined from a grave. And I see that the woman sitting across from me is deathly afraid of the dark. Is that why you

I repeated all of the same steps with the other 10, after the bonding was finished, their mind links melded together more intimately with Silverclaw’s. “Silverclaw thanks you for your tribute and devotion to our family, to our pack.” Angel spoke as she gave them each a silver chain to wear, bearing the Silverclaw crest. It was a half moon with two midnight blue stars on each end and a golden ‘s’ in the center. With them officially taking their position, howls of joy echoed from Newblood as they rejoiced in the making of the Barriers. We had a feast in honor of the 11 Barriers along with music, drinking, and dancing.

"Truth is what you do when they aren't. Dock Six. After-light bells. Barrel." Rowan flinched like the word had been thrown. Elowen's smile froze an inch deeper. Hadrin looked at his boots, sensible man. Seraphine didn't blink. "Show them," she told a priest, and the glass over the satin pillow was lifted with a reverence that made me want to break something unwisely. The sash lay there innocently. Blue, silk, heavy with small stitched swans that had meant nothing when I'd first worn them and everything when I'd learned how to cut.

I had to struggle to suppress a laugh. The Silver Myst was an urban legend, a pure silver wolf who showed up when things looked at their worst. He first appeared near four years ago, shortly after the war began, and has, supposedly, been seen numerous times since. It was always out of the corner of someone’s eye, or seen by a friend of a friend. Chris and the others were too old to believe in fairy tales.

It was a small, velvet-wrapped bundle. Julian unfolded the cloth. Resting there were two cufflinks. They were unlike the gaudy, heavy things Aris demanded. These were silver, darkened with a specific oxidation process his father had invented. They were shaped like swans in mid-flight, their wings comprised of hundreds of microscopic, individual feathers etched with a needle-point graver. On the back of each swan was a tiny symbol, invisible unless you knew where to look. The Cigna. The Sign.

She explained carefully, while Veronica listened with rapt attention. “Oh, so that's why…” Veronica muttered as realization hit her. “Yes, exactly. That's why all the packs you’ve lived in kept on experiencing mishaps from time to time.” Her mum confirmed. “So you see that you're not cursed. You're just a SILVER WOLF who was taken away from her rightful place.” Her father chipped in. “Yes, you're not weak, you're not cursed. You are the power of the SILVER WOLF inside of you.” Her mother gently poked her chest with her fingers, reaffirming her father's words.

"Yes, but the Goldcrow pill is a result of Frostwave Corporation's research team." Whitney's face stiffened, and Mabel quickly stood up to explain, "Yes, that's correct." As soon as Mabel finished speaking, Gandolf slammed the table with a loud bang which caused her to turn pale with fright and look at him in confusion.

Alexa cuts in excitedly. Facing her, "What do you mean by my face has changed, Alexa?" I was getting more confused by the minute. "Okay, you need to see it for yourself to know what we are saying." Saying this, she grabbed my hand, brought me to the car door window, and pointed, "Look.". Still confused, I slowly turned my head to the window and was shocked by what I saw. My straight ebony-black with strips of silver has completely turned into wavy silver with strips of gold and is reaching my waistline.

The light faltered. The gold thinned, then thickened, then thinned again, as if two hands pulled it from opposite sides. A thread of white ran through the flame. Not gold. Not red. A pale silver white like moonlight on ice. A murmur grew into voices. A child cried once and was hushed. Outside, bells that should have fallen silent kept ringing, as if they had forgotten how to stop. The silver grew brighter. It folded through the gold and softened it until the two colors lay side by side. The bowl sang a high note that set the candle flames trembling.