Silverfang Opm Novels & Stories

They were traitors. Beside me, my incredibly sexy mate, Avril, moved gracefully, her chainmail blending with the shadows. The metal was shimmering with ethereal hues of blue and silver when light filtering through the canopy hit it. She said it was made from Phaikón Árgyron, which translated to Faerie Silver. A particular type of silver found only in the Fae Realm, magically manipulated into a flexible yet resilient form of armour. It was infused by silversmiths with Fae magic, offering both physical and magical protection.

Claire groaned as she held tight to both the metal staff and Mal, unable to let either go. Mal’s smile vanished as something yanked him backwards. Claire held tight as she could, but something pulled Mal back into the hole. Mal shook his shoulders and screamed in pain as the silver dagger he had earlier pierced his side, right below his ribs. Sloane appeared and used the dagger to hoist himself up further, a sadistic grin across his face. “If I die, then you and I will die together, Malachy.” Claire only reacted. She pulled her metal staff from its mooring and threw it with everything she had right at Sloane’s head. The end pierced his forehead and froze that grin on his face. His arms slowl

As she came closer, I felt my breath catch in my throat. The figure stopped just a few feet in front of me, her presence radiant and powerful. Her silvery hair flowed like water down her back, shimmering in the moonlight. Her eyes, glowing softly with ancient wisdom, locked onto mine. Around her shoulders was a cloak made of stars, twinkling like the night sky, and around her neck, she wore a pendant that glowed with a faint, steady light. It was clear who she was, the Moon Goddess. “Gwendolyn Silverfang,” she spoke, her voice like a gentle breeze, soft yet carrying the weight of an entire universe. “You have been brought to this place for a purpose.”

Ruby P.O.V. The eastern meadow of Silver Dawn isn’t much to look at by daylight, just bleached grass and an old stone that remembers winters. At the edge of evening, though, it starts to come to life. Freya’s people chalk out a geometry that doesn’t care about pretty things. Silver filings sift into furrows, braided with salt and ash. Oloron walks the lines with a satchel of crystals that knock softly together like patient bells and Tara’s shadows gather at the tree line in a quiet crowd, curious and ready.

The glass figurines vibrating on the table let me know that it wasn't all in my head. I gulped. I didn't know that Ophelia was gifted with powers too. While Whitefang where I come from had powers over water, Silver Dawn's power was tied to the earth and they possessed a mastery of anything connected with the earth from manipulating it to building things to reading stars and controlling nature. And if Ophelia was scary before, she just got ten times worse. She was beautiful, seductive, possessed the power to shift and was also blessed with powers. She was...perfect.

Dad shakes his head. “What about silver dragons,” asks dad. “You said to read about the six different types of dragons,” says Owen. “I said there are six different types aside from the silver dragons,” dad says with an annoyed look on his face. “I guess I will have to cover that part for you. Listen up cause I’m only going to go over this once. Silver dragons are silver in color however, when the light shines on them they tend to shimmer a pastel rainbow color which makes them look exceptionally beautiful. They can control all the elements and they are the only dragons that are able to transform into humans and have the ability to teleport. This is due to the original silver dragon’s mother

The silver in me rises, not to fight, not to crush, but to listen. Pressure mounts. I can barely breathe. I plant my feet. I don’t move. The silver holds—not exploding, not flaring. It anchors. The land listens too. Roots settle. Stones steady themselves. The surge folds in on itself, collapsing like a wave that meets solid rock. Lydia staggers, eyes wide. “What did you do?” she spits. “I stood where it breaks,” I say, quiet but firm. Silence. Real, complete silence. The observer woman lets out a slow breath. “So that’s the difference,” she says, almost to herself.

Pack members around us whispered, their eyes filled with disdain. A Luna with no heir, using cheap tricks to feel important. "Chairman, a new power has applied to join the Alliance," Marcus reported, approaching me. "Which one?" "The Silverfang," his voice was strange. "They said they wish to present themselves to you personally." Silverfang? I’d never heard the name. "Let them in." The great doors swung open, and a silver-clad figure appeared in the doorway. The wine glass in my hand shattered. Shards dug into my palm, drawing blood, but I felt no pain.

Lucian said simply. My pride flared. “Blackwood is there.” “And?” I stared at him. “You’re the future Alpha of Vale. If you want your mate, act like it.” Mate. The word carried weight now. This wasn’t about resemblance. Or unfinished history. It was about losing something real. Before I could answer, my office door opened without warning. Seraphina stepped inside. She looked exactly as she had three years ago — long dark hair, soft features, eyes that once made my heart race.

"She smells of old ink and terror. Tell me, little Scribe, can you see the way we all die just by touching our wine glasses? Or is your gift as limited as your lifespan?" I felt a surge of cold anger. These weren't just mobsters; they were nightmares in silk ties. I reached out and picked up my silver fork, feeling the history of the metal—the hands that had polished it, the mouths it had fed, the secrets whispered over it. "I see enough," I said, my voice projecting with a strength I didn't know I had. I looked Ligeia straight in her iridescent eyes. "I see that this silver was mined from a grave. And I see that the woman sitting across from me is deathly afraid of the dark. Is that why you