Novel & Cerita Silver Crow

The room was twenty-five meters wide, the thing that took up the most space in the room, the silver nails were piled up, you could see the weapons around were made of silver. Pliers, spear tips, silver shoes, silver needles, silver strings… Many and many, in a sturdy silver cage, there is a small wolf in each cage, they are barely breathing, some of them are seriously injured. They lost their sense of pain, most of them were afraid and trembled.

I couldn’t stop the soft gasp that escaped through my lips as I leaned closer reflexively. Silver gleamed beautifully inside the box. Any brighter and the glare would have blinded me. Holy shit. The maid reverently courtesied and stepped back. It was a necklace. No, not just any necklace. A thick dark chain cradled a beautifully crafted wolf’s head forged entirely from silver. The craftsmanship was exquisite. The wolf’s eyes were made from deep amber stones that caught the firelight almost too realistically. Its jaws were slightly parted, revealing sharp silver fangs. Pandora would be jealous.

At least I had changed the first part of our fate. Silver Springs was famous for its natural geothermal steam rooms. Clara dragged Liam off to the buffet. Those two were always in sync when it came to food. It was good to see. Seeing her so innocent and carefree, I felt a wave of emotion wash over me. In this life, I just want my sister to be happy. I found an empty sauna. The steam rose, blurring the world around me. I closed my eyes, savoring the moment of peace.

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.

“And she made me promise something before she died. She made me swear that if anything happened to her, I would tell you the truth when the time was right.” “The truth about what?” Sarah reached out and gently lifted my mother’s necklace, studying the crescent moon pendant. “About this. About why you don’t have a wolf. About who your family really was.” My pulse thundered in my ears. “I don’t understand.” “Aria, your parents weren’t ordinary pack wolves. Your mother came from a very old, very powerful bloodline. The Silvermoon line was once royalty among werewolves. But your family was hunted, destroyed by enemies who wanted their power.”

We both sense that line getting tighter. “She’s coming,” I whisper. He nods. “Yeah. And when she does, it won’t be just for you.” I turn, really looking at him. “She wants what I won’t let myself become.” He meets my eyes, steady. “And what’s that?” I breathe in. “A crown with no heart.” The silver inside me stirs. It feels warm, solid—like it’s ready. Out there in the woods, something ancient is listening. And for once, it’s not moving. It’s just waiting.

A faint glow pulsed like its own heart beat a shape, curved mark that was glowing beneath the sleeve of my leathers, a mark only seen that I have only seen in books. The Lunar Bond. She looked up. Across the table, Aeryn Valecrow met her gaze again. In that moment she felt terrified and unafraid at the same moment. Nemphis did not like it but craved it all at once. She pushed forward even more.

I stepped toward my sister, forgetting the crown, the ceremony, and every warning that told me pain could be another trap. Otsana Blackmoon clawed at the black moon bracelet on her wrist, screaming as the metal cracked for the first time since Rudina placed it there. A silver light burst from beneath the broken bracelet. Not Blood Feather black. Not Adolphus red. Silver. Old silver. Rudina’s silver. The bracelet split open and fell in two pieces onto the stone. Beneath it, burned into my sister’s skin, glowed a second crown mark shaped like moon branches wrapped around a shadow wolf.

For once, I did not try to make myself appear smaller. Greta adjusted the fabric over my shoulder and smiled at my reflection. “You look like a Luna.” “I am a Luna.” Her smile widened. “Exactly.” On the vanity rested the ceremonial crown. It was not delicate. Ironclaw did not create delicate things. The crown was made of dark silver, shaped like two wolves facing each other beneath a crescent moon. Small black stones had been set into the metal, catching the morning light. I lifted it carefully. My hands trembled.

Caroline, a she-wolf who has been considered a monster since she was a child, can she break the tragedy spell and find her MATE?