The Millennium Wolves Book Novels & Stories

"And then the debt collectors will come for both of us and seize pack lands, and every wolf in Crescent Moon Pack will lose their homes because you were too selfish to accept your fate. Can you live with that?" The trap closes around me so perfectly I almost admire the cruelty. He knows I cannot let the pack suffer for his mistakes, recognizes I have spent three years protecting these wolves from his incompetence, and admits I will choose their safety over my freedom. "You are a monster," I say. "I'm a realist." He responds by straightening his jacket like we just finished a pleasant conversation. "You were never going to give me an heir anyway, too defective for that. At least this way you

I muttered under my breath, shutting the book harder than I meant to. Zack raised an eyebrow but said nothing. I reached for another, a thinner one. The cover nearly tore in my hands, my eyes skimmed quickly, heart thudding. This one spoke of the Moon Goddess and her first chosen wolves born with gifts that could either heal or destroy. Wolves meant to be balance keepers. I swallowed, my wolf stirred inside me at the words, Ella pressing against the surface of my mind. This feels familiar, she whispered. “Find something?” Zack’s voice was low, rumbling in the stillness.

“You did nothing wrong.” Her pulse refused to slow. The Northern Wolves. The book. She had taken it without understanding why, back when escape had been all instinct and terror. Taken it from Lucian’s study, heart racing as if it already knew it mattered. It told a history Wildbourne never taught. Wolves as balance. Hunters as something broken long ago. Some nights she believed it completely. Other nights, she feared it was dangerous just to read. It had become Ever’s favourite story. Now she knelt in the sandpit, holding Ever close, eyes darting as the ground beneath them seemed to hum.

I growl stalking towards him again “Martin wait” Bryat says and I turn to him, anger still boiling in me “do you remember the story…the one they told us when we were younger. The black female wolf. If what he says is true…if Claire is the black female wolf she doesn’t get a mate. If this is true there could be more alphas coming to see if it’s true”

END OF FLASHBACK Elsie was so engrossed on her spells in raising the Medallion Wolves that she didn't noticed the silent figure behind her all these while. Her followers had gone to the grave of the Medallion Wolves to dig out the remains of their bones. Medallion Wolves are the only wolves in the wolf history who had went rogue. A one wolf that can multiply into three or battalion wolves at a time, hence it name. No one know what had ended their life. Some stories goes that the wolf was the first creation of Mankind, but had anger the one who had created them. Some said the wolf went mad and took his own life.

Not with this cursed band strangling the soul out of me. So I stared, cold and unmoved, letting my silence speak the promise my mouth never could: One day, I will destroy you. One of the books shifted slightly on the table, falling open just enough to reveal images—hand-drawn wolves with glowing, mournful eyes and shattered jaws. Caged. Silenced. Like me. His eyes flicked to the page with casual malice. “These talk about wolves who defied their mates,” he said, like he was discussing a bedtime story.

"Centuries ago, humans were not kind either. They hunted our kind and called us beasts, and they killed us and sent us away. Werewolves had no home and no peace, but through rituals and the Moon Goddess's blessing, we fought back." Lena's lips pressed together. "So you see," Jaime said, "evil is everywhere no matter the kind or species." His words stayed with her. Jaime always spoke with purpose, and that was what made him different from the other wolves that she had met. Then her carriage stopped, and the horses made sounds of unease. "What is it, Milicent," Lena said. Milicent looked ahead. The road was filled with people, and noise came from the square. "I think that it is a punishment,"

But instead of old stories from my grandmother’s life, the pages were scrawled with strange symbols and sketches—shorthand in her handwriting explaining the purpose of different runes and sigils. Flipping through the pages, there were sketches of wolves, and the last page that she’d written in had a detailed rendition of a nightmarish wolf-beast that made my blood run cold at the sight of it, it’s eyes smudged over with charcoal in the shape of a protective rune. My heart raced when I realized what I was holding. This was no ordinary journal, it was a spell book.

As we walked, the soft thud of our footsteps echoed through the solemn space. Jeremiah, a wise and weathered wolf with a graying muzzle, carried an ancient book in his hands. Its leather cover was worn, its pages yellowed with age. We reached a magnificent wooden table, carved with the same designs, and Jeremiah gently placed the book upon it. "Lyra," he began, his voice deep and resonant, "this book holds the secrets of our pack's legacy, and within its pages lies the tale of the Silver Werewolf." My curiosity piqued, I leaned in closer, my eyes fixed on the book. "Tell me, Jeremiah," I said, my voice filled with anticipation. "What is the story of the Silver Werewolf?"

I was about to jump over the wall and run to Milo when I saw something that made me stop so fast I almost fell over. Milo had finished his shifting, and where Milo had been standing, there was now a wolf. But not just any wolf. A huge red fiery wolf stood majestically in the ring. It was one of the biggest wolves, probably bigger than some alphas I had seen before. Its beautiful red fur glowed and sparkled like actual flames, reminding everyone of little lights dancing all around it like fireflies. It looked like someone had taken fire from a campfire and shaped it into a wolf.