The Crow Graphic Novels Novels & Stories

It had a black thick leather cover and a golden seal on its top. “The Crow.” Lelia said, and a book with a bright red cover appeared in her palms. She turned to a page where the history and image of the crow was shown. Janeka got her mind back to why they were here and what they were going to defeat. “I see your mind is caught up with the black book.” Lelia said, chewing her lips. “That's what we want, isn't it?” Janeka said.

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.

The council chamber was cavernous, its stone walls adorned with banners bearing the crest of Arindale—a golden falcon soaring against a crimson backdrop. Emilia’s footsteps echoed as she entered, the heavy wooden doors closing behind her. The chamber was already alive with voices, nobles and advisors engaged in animated conversation.

While I was arranging the things I would use later, suddenly there was a knock on my window I saw a crow. I immediately opened my and saw that its eyes were very red, almost the color of blood, and also its body was very black. It looks horrible. I was stopped when I saw a paper pinned into the crow's foot so I picked it up. But before that, it pecked my hand first which causes me to let go of the paper and hold my hand that is now bleeding because its beak is too sharp to the point that my hand bleeds and it stings. Then it suddenly left and I saw from its spot earlier the paper stuck to its foot. I immediately took it and opened it and I almost crumpled the paper because of what was on the

Esmeray held her forearm up, examining the intricate tattoo that adorned her skin. The tattoo depicted a majestic wolf, its eyes fierce and determined, surrounded by swirling patterns that seemed to dance with a life of their own. The lines were bold and precise, giving the impression of strength and resilience. “This tattoo is so unique,” Esmeray remarked, tracing her fingers over the contours of the design. “I’ve always felt a connection to it, but I never knew why.”

Sienna's POV A steel-toed boot slammed into my ribs, and I curled on the ground, coughing up blood. "Get up, little she-wolf." Chief Elder Marcus looked down at me, a vicious smile on his face. Behind him stood a dozen armed men—Brynn's mercenaries. "The game is over." I pushed myself up, blood dripping from the corner of my mouth onto the grass. The forest around us was burning. Jake and the other rangers were already down, lying motionless nearby.

Liam's Pov London had hardened me. The late nights buried in economics, the endless lectures about mergers and acquisitions, the luxury parties where men twice my age shook my hand with fake smiles—it had all left a mark. But when I had finally returned, the city no longer felt the same. I wasn’t just Liam Brooks anymore. I'm now the heir to my father’s empire, the man who would carry the Crownwell & Brooks name into a new dynasty. But of course, Father wouldn’t hand me the crown so easily.

Now, I have turned those cinders into a blade. Bennett did not lose hope, desperate to hit back after losing everything. "You think you're the winner?" The email attachment showed my face crudely edited onto explicit images, with the backdrop of our family's hotel, sent to every young member of the prominent families.

Pain exploded behind my eyes. I caught myself against the wall, dizzy and half-blind. “Easy, Bianca,” Luca murmured behind me. “Look at me. Breathe.” Mother was already calling for water. Father ordered one of the guards to bring the car around. No one asked whether I was hurt. I slipped through the café’s back door before they could see me cry. By the end of my shift, a dark bruise had risen across my forehead. At least it was payday. Two more days. Then I would leave this place behind and board my flight to Boston. I just needed this paycheck to make it there.

"Whatever's following either of us, I'd rather discuss it somewhere with walls around us, even walls as poor as these. Twenty years alone teaches a man to prefer a roof over his head when trouble might be circling, however little that roof actually keeps out." I hesitated at the threshold, some old instinct measuring the exits Ren had already, I suspected, catalogued twice over in the moments since Ashwood first spoke. The doorway itself had once been grand, I realized, looking up at the carved stone lintel still holding despite the collapse of nearly everything around it, a family crest, weathered past recognition, though I thought I could make out the faint suggestion of flame worked into