Silverback Werewolf Novels & Stories

He was not going to abandon the person who had dared to ruin his moment. Every step he took was aggressive, authoritative, and massive. It only took him a few minutes to get there. When he saw a pack of werewolves attacking his house, he roared. A few of his members were fighting them, while many others were drunk and passed out on the ground. His rage grew even stronger when he realized that the attacker pack are fighting with silver! He is losing his pack members because of the silver which the attackers are using to kill them. He growled again, causing them to stop fighting and turn around to look up at him.

With that thought in mind I crouch, focusing on the center of the bars and leap forward, feeling triumphant until I touched the metal that greet me and howl with pain. Silver. Of course the bars would be silver; it sadly is the Kryptonite to us werewolves. Silver is the only way to keep us locked inside the stupid cages or to harm us in any way, even kill us sadly. Many Hunters who know of the supernatural races use silver to harm us and even kill us for rewards. It is something we feared – vampires, witch, fae and werewolves alike.

Even against one, he was still no match. "AAAAGHHH!” They broke his legs and dragged him outside. As the sunrays hit his disfigured face, his blurry vision became clear. One man had tightly tied his limbs and neck with spiky silver metal. He gripped his hair, dragging him farther. Silver was the werewolves' weakness. They threw him inside a black van and then drove off. While lying on his back, he passed out for an hour. When he woke up again, a cloth covered his bloody face. Silver was no longer attached around his neck. He struggled to stand up as he was tightly secured to a metal chair.

The warmth of the flames seemed to beckon the past forth, and I began. "You see, Silver's history is a tapestry woven with tragedy and perseverance, a tale that echoes through the ages of our kind." I narrated the tale even as I looked for clues that could help me find Lilac, my mate. "Long ago, Silver's family belonged to a pack steeped in tradition, where the howls of the wolves harmonized with the whispers of the trees. They were devout worshippers of the Moon Goddess, their lives entwined with the celestial dance of night and sky. And at the heart of it all was Silver, half wolf, half witch. Born from an Alpha father and a witch mother; a beacon of devotion and purity, entrusted as the p

I turned a few more pages and stopped; “Characteristics: They appear fairly normal in their human form, except for their silver hair.” I was a bit shocked by this. I touched my own hair in suspicion, unsure whether to believe it, before continuing; “Their blood is metallic silver as well.” Well, that was certainly not my case. My blood was anything but silver. There was no possible way for me to be a Silver Blood. I wasn’t even a real werewolf. I sighed. I read on; “Their wolf forms are larger than the average wolf. They are faster and possess a healing ability that regenerates at the rate of a hundred.”

He retaliated with lightning-fast strikes, forcing my team to dodge and regroup. Dr. Steph, undeterred, reached into her bag and pulled out a small vial. "Silver nitrate," she shouted over the chaos. "Werewolves have a vulnerability to silver!" She swiftly tossed the vial to me, and I caught it mid-air. As the team continued their relentless assault, I aimed carefully and threw the vial, striking his shoulder. The werewolf howled in agony as the silver seared his flesh. I tried moving closer to put the handcuffs on him but I was too slow. In the blink of an eye, he sped off with his residual strength.

He smirked at me and dipped the leather rope in the metallic liquid. "Oh, Goddess, please save me..." I muttered under my breath while my whole body trembled in horror. I heard that silver could severely burn a werewolf's skin, but it was a hundred times worse when it got in contact with one's blood. Once silver ions started to circulate in the wolves' veins, it drove them to insanity, making them tear their own flesh in madness—the worst pain imaginable. I also heard that the one fortunate thing about silver was that it could kill quickly... But what if someone was immune to silver's deadly effect? I touched silver once or twice before, and each time it hurt like hell. Even if I truly was i

A red stone appeared in the center of the decoration. "Now you're part of the pack," Mikhail's voice snapped me out of my trance. “A black alloy of metals, as a symbol of black wolves, and a red stone is a symbol of the fire inside you,” he explained, pointing to his own, exactly the same pendant around his neck. Am I part of the pack now? Part of the family ... It seemed that tears were pouring down my cheeks ... It didn’t seem, but it was so ... I laughed stupidly, rubbing them over my face, and they kept flowing and flowing without stopping ...

He poked his head outside the curtains and conveyed to his driver, “Tell the main army to hurry on ahead. Our brothers might be needing our help.” “As you wish, Grand Inquisitor!” The message was conveyed to the troops, thus they increased their travelling velocity to arrive at their destination faster. *** Back at Guillume Mountain, the werewolves were scattering in uncooperative droves. Most of their furs have been burnt off which gave way for them to be easily affected by their bane element, blessed silver. “The witches' dogs are on the run! Now is our chance to eradicate the spawns of evil forever! Forward crusaders! Forward!”

she told me. She looked around the room and asked for a blade or anything that could be used to dig it out. One of our warriors handed over a tactical switchblade that all of our warriors carried. Silver was a werewolf’s weakness. Well, one of them. If a silver bullet was shot into the wolf form, it’d make it impossible for it to shift back to human form because the silver blocked the magic of the shift. My fingers ran through Reika’s fur as I attempted to comfort her. Titan was purring to her through the link, wanting to also comfort her. I had no idea who shot her, but they’d die by my hands.