The Black Crow Novels & Stories

He didn’t deserve me anyway. As I neared the altar, I finally let myself look up. And forgot how to breathe. Nate Blackthorne stood waiting. Tall, easily six-four. Broad shoulders that stretched his black suit. Dark hair swept back from a face that could have been carved from stone. Sharp cheekbones and strong jaw. A mouth that looked like it rarely smiled. He looked like death personified. Beautiful and terrible. But it was his eyes that made my steps falter. Pale blue, like winter frost and was fixed entirely on me.

Here, my crow had purple spots, and this one was pure black. Wait… I gasped at the realization. No way. No fucking way!

Eden’s POV My jaw dropped open. The crow continued to circle high above. Caw. Caw. It screeched at us in a frantic, frenzied way. “Did you just say…sister?” I whispered back to Beta Brighton. Unlike the rest of us, he was looking up at the crow with admiration. Crows have never been my favorite bird. They’re scavengers and they’re smart. A group of crows is called a ‘murder’. I always found that disturbing. But Beta Brighton gripped my arm. “Please,” he said under his breath.

And there he was. Christian Donovan. The Crow. Standing tall, masked in shadow and smoke, gun in hand. He raised it casually, like he was showing off, and shot one of the men in the head. Then another. Then he slowly turned the camera to face the building, toward the streets, toward everything he had planned. The words were calm, deliberate. His voice carried over the screams and chaos, chillingly composed. “If you want her back,” he said, his tone smooth, almost cruelly polite, “you will bring yourselves to me. Every single one of you. Bring her, or everyone you love dies. One by one. I will enjoy it. I promise you.”

' says a voice from nowhere. He opened the window of the car and found a black crow on the roof of the car beside them. The black crow is looking at him without even blinking. "Was it you who is talking to me?" he murmured, then the crow flew away.

Blood Moon War The night sky bled crimson, the blood moon hung larger than ever above Black Hollow, casting the charred landscape in a hell‑light that illuminated the rising army of the Forgotten. Their ash‑gray forms moved like one breathing entity, bones and flesh stitched by ancient vows. The crown floated between two figures Clint, crowned and triumphant, and John Crowe, burning with something far deeper than anger. Beside John stood Sarah, her eyes glowing with the same eerie luminescence as the Forgotten. He tried to reach her hand, her glance, but she remained fixed on the crown, as though pulled by an unseen tether.

After a moment, a distinct bird call sounded in the air. "Caw—caw—" Black feathers flashed through the deep green forest. After a few shakes of the branches, a crow landed on a tree branch closer to us, emitting coarse and harsh cries. Suppressing my surprise, I watched the scene carefully. That black crow has those deep ink-colored eyes. Wasn't it the crow I encountered when burying the bag of phosphor powder under the tree? Was this crow a bird tamed by Klaus? Before this, I had never seen an alpha werewolf capable of doing this. Obviously, this was quite a special ability of Klaus.

Giant was saying, "that was all we asked of you. And you grudge us the food "Be glad I didn't grudge you fire too." Craster was a thick man made thicker by the ragged smelly sheepskins he wore day and night. He had a broad flat nose, a mouth that drooped to one side, and a missing ear. And though his matted hair and tangled beard might be grey going white, his hard knuckly hands still looked strong enough to hurt. "I fed you what I could, but you crows are always hungry. I'm a godly man, else I would have chased you off. You think I need the likes of him, dying on my floor? You think I need all your mouths, little man?" The wildling spat. "Crows. When did a black bird ever bring good to a ma

Yman's body was enveloped by black mana as he was slowly pushing his body to get up. The Noble Rat wondered if this person just playing dead a moment ago. Never did the Noble Rat expected for this human to hide such a card up his sleeves. He was dying just a moment ago, but now, his body had something weird on it. The current Yman has ears the same as the Noble Rat but it colored like black smoke. His hands have black long nails but the sizes and forms were the same as that of the Noble Rat and his eyes had turned red, but in this state, his vision was unhindered in this dark surroundings. He even has a black tail grown on its back the same as the Noble rat.

Avery's lilting accent is unmistakable, her words dripping with false sweetness. My breath catches in my throat. The crow tilts its head, those black eyes never leaving mine. "How are you doing this?" I whisper, glancing around to ensure the corridor remains empty. A sound like distant laughter echoes in my mind. "Dark witches have many talents, little wolf. This one simply allows me to check on your progress—or lack thereof." The crow hops closer along the windowsill, its movements jerky and unnatural. From beneath one wing, it produces a small crystal vial filled with clear liquid. The tiny container rolls across the stone sill toward me, catching the torchlight as it moves.