Silver Crows Novels & Stories

“I won't let these mongrels steal a chance at real happiness.” Warren spun and spread the wings, the adlets spread out on instinct, Warren gutted two more and raced to the second mounted leader. Heavy gunfire and smoke hailed the coming of the Scald Crow, “Did somebody order back up?” Jack's disembodied voice shouted. The adlets tripped over themselves to get away, and several hurled spears only to have them clatter against the Scald Crows Superior armor. The heavy guns roared until the furry invaders were out of sight.

No one will care, she can only blame her mother's unfortunate fate. Near the crystal frozen river, there's a humongous and tall tree called 'sakura', the only tree that living in this place. Its big and long branches curved and twisted in an enchanting way were covered in a pile of snow. A group of crows flaps their wings and cowed on top of the large branches while watching the two kids busily covered the hole in soil using the shovels.

However, I refused to have one, which was solace because I had no plan to meet my mate. Growing up in solitude is the finest thing ever, not because I hate to have friends but because that's the best way to preserve my life. To evade interactions and obscure my existence from the vicious cubs. Honestly, I have one friend, just one friend. His name is Matt. He is the Beta of the Sprew Moon Pack, but I had no idea who was the Alpha and Omega of their pack. Well, knowing their information wasn't my cup of tea. I am a silver werewolf, and our breed was rare because of our extraordinary ability to heal the physical state of the werewolves. Our blood was highly versatile. We could dedicate it to s

Over time, strands of silver had interwoven themselves among the vibrant strands, creating a striking contrast that spoke of the wisdom accumulated throughout her years. Her tail, a magnificent extension of her being, boasted scales of cobalt blue that retained their vibrancy, reflecting the enduring strength within her. Yet, upon closer inspection, they discovered that her tail bore a delicate adornment. Scattered amongst the azure scales were speckles of silver, like stardust scattered across a midnight sky. These silver speckles, reminiscent of the trials and tribulations she had weathered, served as a testament to her resilience and the wealth of knowledge she possessed.

- I say sitting in my chair watching the three men in position in front of me. - Excuse us, I'm Lieutenant Aiko of the third division - He says lifting up the sleeve of his shirt showing the silver guard recruitment tattoo. The tattoo consisted of a crucified woman being burned, referring to the formation of the Silver Guard. The woman was Cibele, a black witch who cursed silver to wound lycanthrope flesh and blood, forcing the wolves to join together to hunt the Cherno, the hunt for black witches. All who participated in the guard related to the hunt of the black witches, to break the spell, were called silver wolves because many were injured by the silver. Thanks to the Goddess, the curse

“And yet, it does.” Sira’s fingers tightened around her staff. The crystals embedded in it flickered once more, but this time the light that bloomed within them was not blue it was silver. She dropped her gaze to her hand, horror flickering across her face. The Citadel’s pulse was now moving through her.

The air in the sacred Silver Moon clearing was thick with anticipation, the howls of gathered wolves echoing like a song of hope and grief. The ruins of their past packs felt like ancient scars, yet this new congregation exuded a sense of rebirth. Iris stood at the center, her golden and shadowed aura blending, balancing light and dark as the moonlight caressed her face. In her arms, her twin children cooed softly—one with eyes glowing pure silver, the other with an unsettling but beautiful onyx hue.

It wasn’t macho; it was math. Silver came later, in a windowless room with a table and a locked case, not as a thrill but as a lecture with props. With a gloved hand, Todd laid a handful of objects on a cloth—cutlery, jewelry, a small bar that looked like nothing—and told me the truth: how silver bites wolves, why it does, what it represents to them, and how it turns from defense to cruelty faster than you think if you wield it like a fantasy. He let me hold the bar with gloves, feel the wrong chill of it, then put it away. “Last resort,” he said. “The line that ruins a dinner table if you cross it for sport.” I nodded. I got it. Some power you respect by not touching.

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.

Just settled into himself, like he’d decided the exact amount of space he would occupy, and that was final. His eyes were silver. They moved across the room in a sweep that didn’t look like a sweep. They didn’t stop on me. I turned back to the front. The High Elder called the ceremony to order. The lights dropped except for the column of moonlight through the open ceiling—Blood Moon light, redder than ordinary and thick in a way that made the air feel different. Heavier. Like it was waiting. It moved slowly at first. I watched it find a pair across the room, a Delta male and a north-pack female, both going rigid before the gold thread pulled taut between them. The crowd made a soft sound. Th