Tawnypelt X Crowfeather Novels & Stories

The crowd rippled, murmured like stormwater. Penelope flanked them from the side, slick as ever in black leather and an expression like she could take down God. A silver microphone was already waiting at a temporary podium hastily constructed just beyond the cordon line. Press crews vied for position. Helicopters churned overhead. National news feeds streamed live. Dorian stepped up first. “My name is Dorian Blackthorn,” he said into the mic, unblinking. “Until tonight, I was a silent majority shareholder in Velvet. I will no longer hide.”

Maya and Ray decided on a private ceremony in the village where Arden had saved her. The healer, Jackson, would bless the vows. They invited only thirty people those who had stayed when everyone else ran. No gold-covered halls. No designer gowns. Just a forest clearing, lanterns, and vows written in ink and blood. Maya whispered as she practiced hers: “I loved you as a girl, I mourned you as a ghost, and I choose you now as a woman who rose.” The forest glowed with soft firelight. Maya wore a hand-stitched dress of ivory and pearls. Ray wore simple black, a string of wolf teeth hidden beneath his collar a symbol of protection from the villagers.

Mica practically demanded, wiggling her eyebrows. Cassie’s cheeks flushed as she held up her hands, spreading them apart. Far apart. My jaw dropped. “Oh my God!” Mica gawked. “You’re lying.” “I swear,” Cassie said, still grinning like she won the lottery. Gladz let out a low whistle. “Damn. That’s… impressive.” Mica pretended to wipe a tear. “I’m so proud of you.” Cassie beamed and tossed her hair again, clearly enjoying the attention.

No time to rest, no time to breathe—we were officially in the thick of it. The second kitten arrived with far less drama. This one came out wriggling and squawking, as if it had complaints about the lighting. A mess of black, orange, and cream swirled across its tiny body—classic tortie. Ofelia crouched next to me, eyes wide as she whispered, “Freya. She looks like her mama.”

Her eyes scanned the cafe in one slow sweep and landed on Seraphina. She did not flinch. She did not smile. She walked across the cafe and sat down across from her sister. For a long second, neither of them spoke. Up close, Rose looked nothing like Seraphina, and Seraphina looked nothing like Rose. Two women who had been told they were twins and could not, by any stretch, be made to match in a photograph. Different bone structure. Different mouths. Only the eyes were the same. Brown. Dark. The slope at the outer corner identical, the way Catalina's had been identical to both of theirs.

The room felt suffocating, the air thick with unspoken tension. Lysandra’s gaze remained fixed on Kaelen as he stood across from her, his posture rigid, a storm brewing behind his sharp golden eyes. She clutched the photographs in her hands, her knuckles white, her heartbeat thrumming in her chest. Each picture was a reminder of the horrors that had begun haunting her. The figures—those unnatural beings—appeared only in the frame, but their presence lingered in her mind, haunting her thoughts.

He couldn’t escape the demanding look - staring straight into Victor’s eyes, he said: “I promise.” For a moment, Samuel had a feeling that he had just got married to Victor, not Bianca. The older man’s hand opened. He was right - there was another ring. Although this one much heavier and much more solid. It was made of different materials - a golden one and a black one. These two materials were entangled like ivy growing up a tree. On the inside, pearly white writing was engraved with its full mightiness: CROWOLF. Samuel repeated the word in his mind. It had a peculiar charge, leaving in his head an indelible trace.

Her light cotton candy smell appealed to him, “What about you? Have you chosen?” Warren cleared his throat, “Yes, I want to join the crew of the Scald Crow. If I can help people negotiate this new world, then I want to.” Elphame smiled and held Warren's hand, “Excellent, we’ll get you started today.” Theria gripped his hand and gave him the cute dimpled smile, “Don’t you have something to ask me, Warren?” she used a sweet and alluring voice. It took Warren ten seconds to find his nerve, “Theria, you are a beautiful young woman, but I don’t know you…” Therias soft fingers touched his lips,

He raked his hand through his sleek walnut hair. Wade nodded to the two guards still standing at the end of the bed, dismissing them. They bowed and shuffled from the infirmary. “Trey, I think you can go too.” Wade addressed the light haired man. Klara instantly shook her head and gripped onto his hand. King Marc growled loudly. “Marc… I’m mated.” As if to emphasis his point he proudly pulled the collar of his t-shirt down, displaying the two crescent shaped silvery scars. Before extending his neck further in submission. “Trey, get out before he kills you.” Trey pursed his lips, gently easing his hand from her grasp, almost sprinting from the infirmary under the King's gaze. “You can get out

"Let them come." The clans arrive at dusk, their torches staining the forest blood-red. They wear pelts stitched with Crowshrike feathers-a mockery or a plea, I can't tell. Their alpha, a wiry woman with a braid of silver scars, steps forward. "Stormbearer. We've brought a gift." Her hunters drag forth a figure shrouded in sackcloth. The stench hits me first-rot and honey, the signature of Void-taint. Kael's growl vibrates the earth as they yank the hood off.