The Crow Book Novels & Stories

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

Kai cleaned the stool with his palm and made Anna sit on it. "You need to rest your legs." Anna nodded and Kai stood upright. He walked to the old shelf and took out the book. He dusted the front and read the title out loud, "The tormented." "Huh?" "That's the title of the book." Kai put the book back and went to the bed. The bedsheet was very dirty. This still doesn't feel real to Kai. Does anyone else know that this place exists in the palace? No, he doubts it. He looked up and he saw an old clock. It was still ticking and he could tell it was telling the correct time.

3rd person perspective It must be quite a sight to behold. The Crown Prince of the Wolves; The Leader of the Vamps; The Second Born Princess of The Wolves; The Witch Queen and The Gremlin General marching at the head of an army. They emerge from the forest and March down the hill towards an awaiting band of Angels. The army holts and Roy steps forward. “We wish to speak to The Daemonium.” His voice carries across the valley. Black shadows form around the training grounds and from them rises a Fae Male.

His eyes are wide and he looks at a loss for words, like he can't believe what just happened. The crow caws again, and I spin around, waiting for another attack. Todd steps in front of me. The crow studies us with a black, beady eye. He hops to the edge of the table, opens his beak, and caws shrilly again. Todd lobs the book across the room. The book clips the crow, and it takes to the air, flying back into the bathroom and out an open window, disappearing into the night.

He planted a bomb in a pack nearby that will go off tonight. King William knows the wolves are weak at killing the innocent, so that's why they cannot defeat him. In contrast, I am King William, and I will always win because I have no scruples. During my war with the wolves, everyone and every age suffered collateral damage. As King William looks towards the small pack in the distance, he sees a huge puff of smoke in the sky. A wicked smile was on his face. He turns and walks into the castle.

he roars up loud enough to make his voice reach even the hidden ears of children between and under the tall people. The low branch of the tree is no longer behind the king's head. The glowing round sun is making the crown on his glitter and his light brown face appears lighter closer to white. "Long live king, Thomas" hails the crowd in the consortium. Sound of whistles, wooden drums, and small ball stones striking in hand, rise in the air to the clear and bright sky. King steps down from the stone ring. The round glowing sun behind his head doesn't leave his company.

“Two days ago, Alexander personally took her to a private jeweler. Measurements, design consultations—he stayed the entire time.” My heart clenched. “There’s more,” Ethan continued. “And it gets worse.” “I accessed her private cloud. Password was Alexander’s birthday.” Inside were photos. Hundreds of them. I opened the file he sent. The album was titled: My Knight. The most recent post was dated two days ago. He said this crown belongs only to me. Just like him. Next week’s family dinner—he promised to give me a name. The image showed an exquisite bridal crown— diamonds and sapphires set in a constellation pattern.

The great doors close with a sound like breaking bones, leaving me alone with the ache of this cursed crown and the weight of a kingdom built on graves. The crown itself pulses against my temples, its once-brilliant gold now tarnished to the color of old blood. It used to shine like captured sunlight, a beacon of hope and righteous rule. Now it hums with an endless network of hairline cracks, each fracture a spider's thread of corruption spreading deeper into the metal and into me. Each break is a reminder that nothing in this world remains unbroken: not thrones built on noble intentions, not bloodlines stretching back to heroes of legend, not oaths sworn under starlight with hearts full of

Hopping the answer would be yes, I flipped to the introduction, the much-needed hope fluttering in my chest as I read. “From their temple origins to their violent renaissance in the Bloody War that birthed Henosis, Crowns of Shame have a complex past mixed with hope and cruelty alike. Despite its variety of intents and shapes, one thing remains the same throughout its history: the scar-tissue that defines it.” I flipped through the book, deterred by the word “scar-tissue”. I stopped at a page with a grotesque image of a man on his knees as someone carved a line across his forehead.

Cross Corporation occupied the top 12 floors of a glass tower on Park Avenue that looked as if God had designed it to make people feel small. The lobby was all white marble and sharp angles, the kind of corporate architecture that whispered you are not important enough to be here at everyone who walked through the revolving doors. Seraphina walked through them at 3:07 p.m., seven minutes late, on purpose, wearing a black suit that cost more than most people’s cars and a pair of heels that clicked on the marble like a countdown.