Silverborn The Mystery Of Morrigan Crow Novels & Stories

A literal spark jumped between them, and Maya gasped, her skin tingling as if she’d been branded. Cillian froze. His nostrils flared, taking in her scent, and for a second, she saw his pupils dilate until his eyes were almost entirely black. "You feel it, don't you?" he whispered, his voice vibrating deep in his chest. "The pull." Maya stepped back, putting distance between them. She needed to think. "I feel like you’re trying to intimidate a witness. Let’s look at the facts, Vane. The man who took the Silver Moonstone didn't use a drill. He didn't use explosives. He ripped the vault door off its hinges like it was made of wet cardboard."

"That human, my dear brethren, is no ordinary mortal. They are the embodiment of the Crimson Witch, an accursed reincarnation from the treacherous Vampyr clan. A plague that has stripped us of our rightful lands and torn you away from your very own bloodline! Do not let the weight of our shared history fade into oblivion!" The revelation of Moira's long-held secret sent shockwaves rippling through the entire tent, leaving its inhabitants reeling with disbelief. They had been oblivious to the fact that they had been providing shelter and protection to the reincarnation of a being who had once conspired with the notorious Vampyr clan, a dark alliance that had brought their pack to the very bri

"And the Shadow Wolf's blood?" "Will be ours. All of it." Morgana's eyes flashed silver—but not with Shadow Wolf power. With something older. Darker. More dangerous. "The Council and the coven can fight over the corpses. We'll have what we came for." She disconnected the crystal and lay down on the bed, smiling. Selene had invited her own destruction into the palace. And no one suspected a thing.

Every time I thought I had a grasp on my role, something shifted—new enemies, new forces, and now, betrayals from within. The forest stirred. The air crackled with magic, thick and oppressive. Draven’s muscles tensed beside me as a pack of dark, hulking wolves emerged from the shadows, surrounding the massive silver wolf I had encountered earlier. It stood at the center, its glowing violet eyes locking with mine. And then, as if the moment demanded it, the silver wolf began to shift. Fur receded, bones cracked, and a figure stepped forward—a woman with long, silver-streaked hair that shimmered in the moonlight. Her face was sharp, ageless, with the same haunting eyes as the wolf’s.

Cassian says, gentler now, pushing off the frame. "And it's your wolf they need up there. A silver reads old blood and bad magic the way the rest of us read a fresh trail. Whatever's driving those rogues, you'll scent it before anyone. The Silver is a story in Thornridge, Aria. A title. Nobody up there is going to look at a legend and see a Hollis runt."

The carefully orchestrated retreat, the unnatural arrangement of the fallen, Rhys’s self-inflicted wounds – these weren’t isolated incidents; they were pieces of a larger puzzle, a meticulously crafted deception that had ensnared not only her but the entire Silvermoon alliance. Her investigation began in the archives, amongst the dusty tomes and forgotten scrolls that chronicled Silvermoon’s history. She spent days poring over ancient texts, searching for any mention of a hidden network, a secret society that could have manipulated events from the shadows. She uncovered whispers of the Obsidian Circle, a clandestine group rumored to have existed centuries ago, their power rooted in dark magi

he began, choosing his words with care, "at the center, these radiant threads that seem to pulsate with a light of their own. What story do they tell?" Morgana hesitated, as if weighing the implications of the revelation she was about to share. Slowly, almost reverently, she traced her fingers over a luminous section where silver and gold threads intertwined, creating an image of a child held aloft by wolves, bathed in the gentle glow of myriad moons.

The air bends around them with a faint shimmer, like heat haze in winter. A coven. My heart lurches. Their magic spills out like a cold, grey tide… and the moment it touches me, the Morwein-magic inside me roars awake, thrashing, wanting to lash out. I swallow hard. “This is human land. You shouldn’t be here.” The tallest witch pulls back her hood. Her eyes glow like wet silver stones. “No,” she answers softly. “You shouldn’t be here.” A chill runs through my spine. “Lyra of the Silver Claw,” the second one speaks, a young woman, her face thin and birdlike. “Bearer of the forbidden power. Slayer of Morwein the Shadow-Mother. The Light Bringer.”

“It’s been a long time.” My blood ran cold. “You.” Rowan stiffened beside me, his eyes narrowing as he recognized the figure. “What the hell are you doing here?” The figure—Morrigan, a powerful rogue wolf with a reputation for cruelty—smiled wickedly, her eyes gleaming with malice. “I’ve come to collect what’s mine.” “Silverwood will never be yours,” I spat, my anger rising to the surface. “You have no claim here.” Morrigan chuckled darkly, the sound sending a ripple of unease through the wolves surrounding her.

“We continue. And we win. For Raymond. For Marissa. For everyone they have wronged.” “Including you,” Morrigan added. “Yes, Your Majesty. I can’t wait to have them brought to their knees for what they did to you.” “In three days, Lorraine. In three days,” Athena turned back to the book in her hand. Three others she had gone through already that night were neatly stacked beside her. She refused to let her frustration make her impatient. “We will find something. We have to,” she vowed as she turned to a page that vividly showed how silver was first known to be dangerous to werewolves.