Silver Crow Novels & Stories

his voice was in my head as he banged on the door I carefully opened the door to see Erik standing directly on the other side. Holding my hands up to him “I think I was chained” Erik took my hands in his, running his fingers over the scars “I thought as much when we found you, my guess is silver” “Silver?” “It sears our skin, it can be used to prevent wolves from escaping and preventing them from shifting into their wolf form, do you remember anything else?” “Yellow eyes, hundreds of them” I frown trying to recall the nightmares as they began to fade.

Blood sprayed in dark arcs that caught the strange, too-bright moonlight and glittered like spilled ink. The Crimson Claw pack was smaller but fiercer, red-brown fur flashing like embers. They fought dirty: going for throats, hamstrings, eyes. One of them, a lean female with white streaks on her flanks, leapt onto the back of a Silverfang warrior and clamped her jaws around his neck. He thrashed, yelped once, went still.

Thousands of loyal wolves from every allied pack stand in hushed silence as the ancient elders step forward, lifting the heavy, gleaming Eternal Silver Crown and placing it firmly upon my head. The atmosphere is charged with a profound, reverent awe that commands absolute stillness across the entire summit. The crown, forged from the purest starlight-infused metal of the first vault, hums with a familiar, comforting resonance against my brow, anchoring my spirit to the collective heartbeat of our united people.

The crowns were beautiful; they were the same; there was no difference between the crowns. The crowns were also unique; everyone’s crown was either gold or silver, but this one was gold with rubies, emeralds, and lovely-looking gemstones on it. The crown was elegant and powerful. Jane has never done this for anyone; does she have a personal connection with any of them? Nobody knows her family or background; they just all know she is a witch and the leader of the pillars.

"Forged under the full moon. For you." With a reverence that made her knees buckle under the fervor of it, he opened the box. On a black silk bed, there was a collar. But one unlike any she had ever seen. It was constructed of a weird, silver metal that drew the moonlight in and glowed of its own light, runes and oaths carved along its length. It was not a bond of ownership, but a declaration of joining, a symbol of the close bonding they were developing now. "Aric," she panted, her hand trembling as she reached out but didn't quite make it to touch. "It's… it's beautiful."

CHAPTER TWO I struggled against his hand on my mouth but he was insistent. In the end I went limp in his arms and he slowly released his grip on my mouth. He waited till the murderer had moved away from my family's death table, then turned to me. I stared at his features in momentary awe: his eyes were big and bright and blue, almost electric in their intensity. The eyes of an inexperienced man who hadn't yet seen the rougher side of life; probably nineteen or twenty years old, not much older than me. His coal-black hair was plaited in cornrows, each strand falling to his shoulders. His skin was tan, which was a rarity in this cold climate. And he was staring at me the way I knew I was stari

My father had a solemn expression on his face, and my heart clenched with anticipation as he reached for a small, ornate box placed on the antique desk. With a deep breath, my father opened the box, revealing a breathtaking sight—the Silvermoon Clan Alpha's insignia. It was a piece of remarkable craftsmanship, made of pure silver, intricately designed to showcase the clan's symbol—the moon, with every detail etched with precision and care. The insignia held immense significance within our clan, a symbol of honor, authority, and responsibility.

“How does he get this much detail?” “You could ask him.” “I intend to.” I moved farther along the display. A bracelet caught my eye. Silver. It was thinner than most of the Ironfang jewelry around it, made from an intricate chain of woven links. At its center sat a flat piece of carved silver shaped around the peaks of a mountain. Two wolves stood among the trees beneath them, heads raised in a howl. I picked it up. It was surprisingly light. I ran my thumb over one of the wolves.

he demanded. But the tracker's gaze was fixed on Maeve, seeing something, or someone, long thought lost. "Their eyes," he whispered. Maeve's voice was a whisper. "What about them?" "Silver." My blood turned to ice. The tracker's voice dropped to a breathless whisper. "It's Silver Crown." Maeve went completely still. "No." "I saw the crest," the tracker insisted, his bloody fingers trembling. "A crown between two wolves." The mark. Her mark.

The deafening, continent-shaking roar of the ninety percent slowly dulled to a muffled, ambient hum as the heavy white glass doors of the Grand Balcony sealed shut. The transition from the blinding, golden-violet sky back into the pristine, climate-controlled sanctuary of the Silver Spire was jarring. Jack practically floated across the polished chrome floor of the antechamber. He reached up with trembling, glowing fingers and gently lifted the Crown of the Iron Barrens from his silver hair. He held the kinetic silver circlet in his hands, staring at the inlaid pink hard-light crystals.