Silvercandle Ii Novels & Stories

Abigail quickly jotted down the telephone number and retreated back to her bedroom, keen to jump onto G****e to see what information she could find. Opening up her laptop, Abigail quickly launched G****e and typed in “Silver Stardust’. She was presented with a link to a store that sold esoteric items. Could this simply be a store where her mother bought all of her Wiccan items? Maybe not. Abigail clicked on the link to the website and was welcomed with a photo of the storefront along with one of the inside of the store. It seemed so homely and inviting and it struck a cord deep within her. This was a place where she would love to spend time searching for the perfect items for her Wiccan spel

"The spirit within is restless. It was a poet. They always find the glass too tight." "It’s a hazard," Elara countered, finally looking up. Her brown eyes were sharp, scanning the rows of glowing glass. "If a Last Word escapes, it vanishes into the wind. That’s a loss of inventory. And your inventory is the only reason this mountain hasn't been stormed by greedy kings yet." Korth stood, his joints popping like dry wood. He moved to a shelf and touched a small, ornate vial. Inside, a silver mist swirled violently.

“I wish, believe me. But hey, it just occurred to me – you need a cabin?” “You got one free?” “Sure do.” She checked the room keys behind the counter. “Number two. Good?” “That’s the one with the massive, claw-footed bathtub?” “Nope, that’s number seven, and it’s already taken.” “Damn.” “You bring your scented bubble bath all this way for nothing, handsome?” Silver laughed aloud, accepted the key for number two and stuck it in his jeans pocket. “Scoot now. Get to serving, gorgeous.”

Jax rushed in carrying his laptop, expression excited. "It's starting. Look." He set the laptop on the table, pulling up a social media page. A customer review, posted thirty minutes ago: Bought a Silvercrest Designs necklace last week. Already tarnished green and stained my skin. Then the stone fell out this morning. What garbage quality for the price. #SilvercrestScam #Disappointed #WasteOfMoney Below the post, comments were appearing in real-time. Same thing happened to my bracelet! Clasp broke after three days.

Trista said, her eyes burning with resolve. "I don't want the Ironthorn people pointing at me, saying I only survived by selling myself. I want to cut ties cleanly. I want to make sure no one ever looks down on Silverlight again." That appeal to the pride of their fallen pack finally won Randolph over. Right then and there, the Obsidian cane—the ultimate symbol of Silverlight's golden age—was placed in Trista's hands. Trista felt a massive weight lift. With this, she could go to Xander and have him put it in a high-end underground auction.

Pearl said, and she smiled slightly. "That's because I'm not used to you. The moment you stop crying everytime, we'll click. I really hate tears" the girl replied, sounding a little cold. Pearl wiped her tears again, and she nodded. "Good" Pearl sniffled. "Keep my name a secret though" the girl said, shifting closer. "I promise" Pearl faced her. "My father owns a casino in Spain, and my mother is Chinese... My name is Silver, Silver Banks"

⛏️ Chapter Twelve: The Descent into the Silver Veins ​The air in the disused mine shaft hit us like a physical weight—damp, metallic, and cold. The familiar scent of earth and granite was overlaid with a strange, subtle hum that made the hairs on my arms rise. This was the source of the Silver Wolf Pack’s ancient magic—the ground itself was rich in trace lunar metal, a faint echo of the Shard's power. It was protection, but it was also a homing beacon.

Eric Johnson came home really late. Instead of his usual stop at the master bedroom to chat with Yvonne Johnson, he headed straight to my room. I was already in my pajamas, about to hit the hay, when he softly pulled me out from under my cozy blanket. He gave me a small box. "Wendy, I know you've been eyeing this diamond necklace for ages, so I picked it up for you today." I looked at the shiny necklace in my hands and felt a sad chuckle bubble up inside. It was not the one I liked. The one Yvonne had on that afternoon — that was the real stunner.

The wood was familiar, like a continuation of their shared story, and when he opened the box it gleamed—silver and delicate. Trixie’s breath caught. Inside lay a ring: a slender band of rose gold, engraved inside with the words “Luna, forever”. Centered in a pale moonstone that shifted colors in the light, it glowed like hope. He knelt. The wood of the floor was cool under his knees, rough grain pressing through his jeans. He lifted the ring gently and looked at her softer than she’d ever seen him, rawer and more certain.

It is light as spider silk, woven with actual pulverized silver dust meant to reflect full-moon light during a mating ritual. I step up to the counter, my fingers brushing the edge of the glass. “This lace... how much per cubit?” The shop owner, a shrewd female wolf with sharp features, looks me up and down, recognizing my high-pack posture immediately. “That is moon-silver thread, imported directly from the high artisans of Ironvale. It is eighteen hundred copper-tokens per cubit.” I raise an eyebrow, pinching a stray sample between my fingers. “It is woven from wild spider-silk and cold-pressed silver. Beautiful, but delicate. It won't hold up if it’s pulled too tightly against heavy leath