Silverborn The Mystery Of Morrigan Crow Novels & Stories

She saw a storm. POV: Micah Mooncrest "She’s losing it, Micah. If we don't act now, the Silverfang pack will be the first thing she burns when the eclipse hits." Micah stood in the shadows of the estate’s garden, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. Beside him stood Morga, the Queen of the Raven Coven. She looked elegant and lethal, her violet eyes reflecting the pale moon. In her hand, she held a scepter topped with a jagged piece of obsidian—the same stone used to seal the Cradle.

"Indeed, I suppose that is fair. Though incomplete. I am Morwyn of the Silver Court, pledged to the Nightshade bloodline for three centuries. I was playing witch politics when your grandmother's grandmother was still learning the basic cantrips. So let us dispense with the pageantry and speak of what is actually at issue here." The witch's poise faltered even more, confidence replaced by uncertainty. Behind her, I could see the enemy army reconfiguring, obviously not anticipating this reaction. "You bring those with your little army," Morwyn continued, her tone conversational but infused with steel. "Your corrupted wolves and spellbound demons and assembled covens. All very dramatic. All ver

Margaret began creating a whole story on them, her theories and conspiracies too. And then, the case with Kimberly Silversmith happened. Followed by the gruesome trail of dead bodies, some of them mutants, all with brutal, inhumane, unusual bites and injuries that didn't seem like the werewolf mutants’ she was used to. Under the radar, she secretly followed the trail of dead bodies until it led her to the familiar Mickey's Pub where she met Leviathan Morganton. **********

Even Dame Ivelisse, with an ironic smile and a murmur: “First time I’ve knelt for someone I don’t want to behead.” Susan smiled softly but did not respond. Her skin pulsed with a soft golden glow, and her red hair seemed alive under the light. Gregor Belyakov spoke in a low voice, his dead eyes turned toward Susan: “I see your mother, child. I feel Morrigan behind your eyes. And the blood of the ancient world echoing in the soul of the new.” Miralva approached, bringing a bowl with lunar water mixed with lily petals and silver shards. She raised the bowl and said:

Tobias followed, though his hand hovered near a ritual blade at his belt. The passage beyond the healer room was narrow, carved stone, descending into deeper infrastructure beneath Silvercrest. The deeper they traveled, the denser the seal symbols became, snaking like veins along walls. And then Lyra saw her. Morrigan stood at the far end of the passage where torchlight barely reached. She did not wear armor in the traditional sense. Instead, dark layered fabric clung to her form, marked with faint silver etchings that pulsed softly with the same rhythm as the chant outside. Her presence was not loud.

Tears and sweat slowly trickle down her face as she slowly wallows in the desperate calls and wails of those unseen creatures lingering in her mind. "Morrigan..." A very familiar soothing voice called her. A voice that she knew would bring solace. Amidst the tall walls of flames, Morrigan tried to find the source of the voice but beyond the flames are nothing but endless darkness. Morrigan slowly pulls herself together and tried to stand from the ground in an attempt to continue to look for the owner of the voice. She wanted to call out for her mother who continues to call her, ask where she was and her father, and sister. But still, she couldn't find the voice that seemed to escape her. "Mo

My shout echoed in the barren space. Rain held a finger to her lips and shushed me. “Don’t wake the others.” I hadn’t realized until then that there were several other nests like the one I had sprung out of. Each nest had two or three sets of breaths coming from them. “You also don’t want to attract the attention of anyone upstairs. Trust me. Apparently, there is some big prophecy that revolves around one of us, or so I gleaned from passing conversations that I listened in on. They say that the Silverwolf is the alpha of all alphas and that if they can mate her and control her, then there would be no one to stop them." She glanced up at the sliver of light from the door, fear sliding across

MATE! Nix whirled and furrowed her brow. What are you doing here? Her question was through gritted teeth. I couldn’t protect them from my pain, not since she made me promise to share everything with her the last time we were dealing with Verity’s magic. I’m here to help you. Megan trotted over. How? There is silver in Amy’s body. So what? Erubus walked closer and rubbed against both of my wolves. Wolves can’t shift with silver in their bodies. Megan bumped his shoulder.

"The Iron-Fang Pack rides with Silverclaw." Silas stepped forward, typing a command into his tablet. "The Coven of the Gear accepts. I’ve always wanted to deconstruct the Citadel’s mainframe." Morrigan didn't shake hands. she drifted forward and blew a handful of red dust into Ethan’s face. The Silverclaw guards raised their rifles, but Ethan held up a hand. He didn't cough. The dust settled on his skin, tingling. "A blood pact," Morrigan whispered. "If you betray us, Rogue King... if you do not deliver the North... your blood will turn to sand in your veins."

“We want no war. But we need a pact, and soon. There are things moving in the woods—old things, new dangers. If we don’t hold together, we’ll all be picked off, one by one.” For a moment, there’s only the sound of wind in the birches and the scent of wild mint. Then the plump witch—her name, I learn, is Morwen—breaks the silence with a laugh. “Well, girl, if you’re going to be Silverpine’s Luna, you’ll need thicker skin and sharper teeth.” She tosses me a woven talisman—bones and rosemary, knotted with red thread. “For luck. Or for warding off nosey neighbors.”