The Crow Graphic Novels Novels & Stories

Williams climbed in after me, and I noticed his visible anger. “The Alpha couldn’t welcome you himself because apparently there’s a welcome party for you already.” He hissed through his teeth, and I just shrugged. Most small-town Alphas like these try to inflate their own ego and forget what pack politics even meant to begin with. “Is there something unsettling in the air, or is it just me?” I asked finally, and he looked confused. I told him not to worry about it. I focused on just clearing my head and on not letting anything affect me. Noctis, my wolf, started pacing aggressively in my head as we got closer to the packhouse of the pack, and I tried everything to get him to stop, but he wou

"That's a nice problem to have." Everyone laughed. Then Crow looked genuinely touched while holding his gifts. "Thank you." His voice was quiet. "I don't receive gifts very often." For a moment, my heart hurt for him. Dad simply bumped shoulders with him. No words needed. Then came my favorite part. Crow's gift for me. I closed my eyes as instructed. After a few seconds, he spoke. "Okay, open them." I did. And instantly froze. It was a charcoal portrait…Of me.

“Truth destabilizes kingdoms.” Aera stepped closer. “Then maybe it deserves to be destabilized.” ⸻ The Crown’s Echo That night, Aera dreamed. She stood before the divided crown—three arcs hovering in the air. Two glowed faintly. The third remained dark. A voice whispered: Find the others. She woke with her sigil blazing. Not reacting. Calling. ⸻ Elsewhere A hooded figure knelt in candlelight. “The Crown is waking,” they said. Another voice answered, calm and cold.

Total, heavy silence. The only sounds were Rosa's muffled sobs and Marco's labored breathing. Dante's expression changed from one of fury to horror, then disbelief. He stared at me like I was some stranger. Three minutes ticked by. The ping from Swisswell Bank cut through the quiet like a knife. [Your account has been credited with 50,000,000 USD.] I signed my name with a flourish, then tossed the contract onto Marco's shocked mug. "A bad girl and her lackey, bound for eternity. May your wedding tomorrow be as cheery as a wake."

Dozens of them hung from the branches on both sides of the road, tied by their feet with thin silver thread. Their black wings turned slowly in the rain. Like ornaments. Like warnings. At the center of the road, painted in blood across the asphalt, was the same crown-and-claw symbol. Damien stopped the truck. The engine idled. The trees leaned close. Then every dead crow opened its eyes.

Chapter 42 - Crow *Marcus* The sun had fell hours before, leading into the dark and damp night. My footsteps just barely sounded through the large stone hallway as I moved swiftly through the maze of corridors that lead to the infirmary. A puzzling message from the doctor had set me on edge, and I had to wait be to separated from the prince to move towards the meeting room. The crow is here – F.T.

Her pocket sagged with the vial’s weight, that damn glass nagging her, and Ezra’s laugh still rang in her head—his smug ass waving the key like a prize. “Grab something!” Roman shouted, voice torn over the rush, his other hand scrabbling at the wall’s edge, now just a crumbled lip of concrete. The water was winning, surging up her ribs, tugging at her soaked jacket. She gagged on it, tasting mud and salt, her arm screaming where the knife had cut—blood swirling red in the dark churn.

It looks as normal as it could be. "I did it..." she whispered when the crow stopped squawking and fixed its gaze upon her. Karmina held the candle just a tad bit closer and noticed the blood that stained its dark feathers was also covered in black ink. She reached out cautiously and ran her fingers along its feathers, the black tainted blood smeared her fingers. As she smiled, the sense of relief washing over her, the crow's body expanded. First in its belly, then its head, until its body ruptured. She let out a scream as feathers, blood and bones splattered her and the inside of her hut.

“Not that interesting in all honesty. My ancestor got bitten by a wolf, the wolf was cursed. Hey presto, first shapeshifter.” “Oh… I heard a winged beast cursed some siblings.” “Not ever heard of that,” Christopher grunted as he picked up a larger carved boulder. “Was probably a lie, what stories do you know?” she probed, trying a heavier boulder. “Nothing that interesting, I suppose Daniel the Diabolical is kind of fun, but of course you’ll know about him.” Klara frowned, “No, never heard of him.” “Oh…” Christopher looked confused, “Erm…” his confusion turned to discomfort. “It’s not actually that fun… or interesting.”

They never saw the group coming. Marco and one of his men took them down with brutal efficiency, and then they were inside. The air burned with chemical fumes, stinging Elena’s eyes and throat. Around a dozen men worked at tables covered in white powder. Shock registered on their faces as armed strangers stormed in. Some reached for weapons. Others froze.