Silver Shadows Novels & Stories

she answered, she paused, letting her thoughts run as a sinking thought immediately assaulted her mind, “Gold, clean him up.” she ordered, “Silver, fan out, and search for their camp. He was far too composed to be a lost wolf, something tells me there are more of them out there.” Gold frowned, obviously not satisfied with the job she was given, she moved to speak but a glare from the shadow shut her up. Silver smiled, then, in the blink of an eye, she vanished. The shadow stood in the shade of a tree, as she waited for Silver to be back with news.

And what exactly had transpired in those moments that led to my unconsciousness? As the haze began to dissipate, I felt a chill coursing down my spine, a sudden realization striking me with the force of a lightning bolt. The wraiths—the menacing, shadowy entities that had plagued our realm—there was a haunting connection between Silver's actions and their inexplicable appearance. Was it possible that she had a hand in their manifestation? Had her treachery unleashed these malevolent beings upon us?

“It is. But we need rest. And if the prophecy’s correct, Silverlight might hold something we can use.” Aria sighed. “Then let’s move.” --- Silverlight Sanctuary The village of Silverlight sat in a shallow valley surrounded by shimmering trees—birches with silver-white bark and leaves that sparkled as though dusted with frost. The people here didn’t bow or offer deference when the group arrived; instead, they watched with quiet curiosity, their expressions wary but not hostile. “We don’t get many travelers this deep into Silverlight,” an older woman said as she stepped forward. Her eyes were pale violet, and her hair fell like moonlight down her back.

Sparks of red, silver, black, and crimson light lit up the forest like a storm of stars. "You..." On the moon... not possible!""It hissed. "No one can bring the past, present, and bonds together." "But you..." "I AM THE SILVER HEART!" I yelled, and Silver Heart burnt with strength, loyalty, and power."And this moment is the cause of all the lives I've lived!" The broken part of me shook along with the Silver Heart, the True End, the Shadowed Moon, and the sounds of my past. Sparks of molten energy hit shadows, twisting wildly before starting to beat to my heartbeat. The Wraith's attack stopped slowly, but a scary warning stayed:

Just empty black. Cold.... Dead. Shadows coil around him. They move across his body, across the ground and across the air. Then, ssilver light explodes into the darkness. It erupts from somewhere behind me or maybe from me. The silver collides violently with Lucien’s shadows. The two forces slam together like warring storms. Light. Shadow. Silver. Black. They tear at each other savagely. The ground cracks beneath the clash. Lucien roars. But it doesn’t sound human.

Nyra – First Person They bound me in silver as though I were something unholy. Perhaps I am. The chains were ceremonial—ancient links forged from purified moon-silver, etched with runes that glowed faintly as they brushed my skin. They wrapped around my wrists, my throat, my waist. Heavy. Cold. Final. Silver is meant to silence wolves. It burns. It poisons. It drags us to our knees and reminds us we are creatures of flesh and weakness.

The sound is pathetic, more animal than human, and the nearest wolves in the front row smirk. The silver is designed to weaken, to strip the wolf out of a body and leave only meat behind. I feel it like a rot, crawling up my arms, sapping everything good and hot and alive from my veins. My fingers tingle, then go numb. I flex them anyway, refusing to give the crowd the spectacle of collapse.

I turned the word over in my mind. “A what?” I’d never heard of that word before. “A Silvery,” she repeated. “It’s a special silver weapon made by witches. They designed it to deal specifically with shifters. It’s full of dark magic and witchcraft.” “Witches?” I asked, cocking my head to the side. “Yes,” Dagny nodded. “It’s not a common weapon, but it’s highly effective. Witches use SIlverys themselves to defend against shifters, like werewolves. But they’ll sell Silverys, too, for the right price.”

She cries out, body contorting, the light around her squeezing tighter, like it means to wring the life from her bones. Inside me, my wolf thrashes against my ribs, panic and rage burning together. Fix it. The demand pulses through my blood, primal and fierce. “I’m trying,” I rasp, lungs raw, reaching for the silver. It flickers in the air, lurid and alive, surging forward—only to freeze, trembling midair. It doesn’t wait for my command. It waits for something deeper, something older. Judgment.

The book was flat, with only a few pages, and that intrigued me even more. I opened the first page and began to read; “The Silver Bloods are a rare breed of werewolves, descended from the moon goddess herself. It is a line of only female wolves. Not that males are born from these females, but they never seem to inherit the qualities of their mother.” Interesting. There were special wolves out there that were more powerful than the norm. I turned a few more pages and stopped; “Characteristics: They appear fairly normal in their human form, except for their silver hair.”