The Little Crow Novels & Stories

The corner of her lips curled upward, unable to hide her satisfaction. Camilla walked past me, deliberately swaying her hips. She leaned in close to my ear and lowered her voice. "Sera, the Luna Queen everyone worships this time? That’ll be me. As for those three worthless wolves who can’t even hold their forms, I’ll generously leave them to you. "Since we’ve both been given another life, you’d better treasure it." Her smile was bright and vicious. I lowered my eyes and said nothing. Now it was my turn.

I stepped inside, slamming the door shut behind me, and immediately looked around the small living room. Nathan was sitting on the floor, curled up against the base of his sofa. He wasn't wearing his usual oversized grey hoodie anymore, it was thrown across the room in a crumpled heap. He was in a plain white t-shirt, his knees pulled tightly against his chest, his arms wrapped around his legs as he cried.

Damon drifts toward center ice and stops at the logo. I follow. For a moment, we stand where the game began. Where so much between us almost ended. “Funny,” he says. “All that fighting over who gets the crown.” “And?” He looks at me fully. “There was only ever one.” The words hang there. Not competitive. Not sharp. Certain. Only one crown. And it doesn’t belong to one king. The arena lights dim slightly as the crew prepares to clean up. I feel his hand brush mine. Not by accident.

Aware. Her heart raced. "Is that... you?" she asked, voice breaking on the last word. No answer came in the form of words. But as she knelt there—mud on her knees, tears drying tight and itchy on her cheeks, hair frizzing in the damp—the sense of... attention grew. As if something vast and ancient had turned its face, ever so slightly, in her direction. The crow gave a low, croaking sound and took flight, black wings cutting across the pale sky. Luna watched it go, her gaze tracking its path until it disappeared beyond the treetops.

The crow lands on the altar, its feathers melting into smoke. *“Thank you, little Alpha,”* the Shadow purrs as his form solidifies—a towering hybrid of crow and wolf, violet eyes blazing. *“Now die.”*

And this time, it was closer. I opened my eyes and turned my head to the direction where the noise was coming from. As though it was a dream, the crow was perched on the table beside my bed— watching me. “Fuck,” I muttered, “what the fuck?” If there was one thing I knew about crow's, it was that they are bad omens. I'm done with creepy animals sneaking into my room from nowhere. “Shoo,” I said, trying to chase it away with the only weapon I had, which is my mouth. “I understand you're cold. I'm cold too and the difference between us both is that I'm bound but you're not. So go away, I need my sleep.”

Another addition to the magnificent collection that he already had in his harem. I sat there, thinking about the one whom I had promised my soul and my body. I couldn't save it for him. And I was about to give up on everything in it's entirety, but it was at this point when I saw the black crow , come right at me. It was the middle of the night and the crow came and sat right on my hand and it's eyes glowed with a red that was frightening.

Crow is a highly trained scout that could fully hide his presence even with the enhanced senses of the werewolves. And his senses are also sharpened in finding out the distinct differences of any werewolves that he would come across which allows him to succeed in all of his past missions from the Royal Arc clan. Crow has been scouting around the outer territory of Rebelliad for the past month, but he did not manage to gleam any information about the treasures that exists in the city since it was built. After scouring the small forces of rogues in the outer territory, Crown entered the inner territory yesterday with the identity of a small travelling merchant from the Fressia Kingdom.

Why would it be describe that this way of crowd thinking towards the little boy was not even half true or was not even fully true? Because, first, the crows thought of the little boy were all lies. False, it was all false. The little boy doesn’t want to eat them. Or it could also be said, the little boy never wanted to eat them, never desired to eat them, and never ever had this slightest thought that he was carrying around when he was accompanied by the elders that he become familiar with after having to come out from his shell. Instead, it was because he wanted someone to be by his side.

Lila tiptoed just to clip the veil on Emery's braided, black hair to secure it because the soon-to-be crowned queen was rather taller than the average height. She, then, whispered, “Your Highness, a lady must learn to be patient.” The soon-to-be queen rolled her eyes at her statement. When the horn was blown, Emery walked with careful steps on the aisle that led to the king's side. She minded every step she made because her burning red robes reached the floor and if she stepped on it, she will surely become the laughing stock of the palace. At the end of the aisle was the throne made of gold. Its sides were carved with wolves—the predators that best represent the current king.