The Millennium Wolves Book Novels & Stories

I snarled, circling and searching. Give up. I told Nikal He let out a loud growl. Where was she? Another growl ripped from my chest, deep and feral. The night belonged to wolves. And she had run into it. I prowled at the edge of the clearing, my muscles tense and nostrils flaring as I searched for any trace of her. The moon glowed brightly overhead. The equinox night raged inside me. And somewhere in the dark— Mila was running. **

Books lay open across the desk, and papers covered almost every available surface. I reached for another old book that had been tucked away at the very back of one of the shelves. Unlike the others, it was noticeably thinner, its leather cover faded with age. As I brushed away the dust that had settled over it, three words slowly came into view. The White Wolves. My heartbeat quickened as I stared at the title for a brief moment before opening the book without wasting another second. “Finally.” The first few pages were filled with handwritten accounts describing the White Wolves as though they had truly existed.

He almost cries from a weird mix of joy, relief and exhaustion when he sees the menacing wolves stop abruptly, so much so that they pile onto each other in a mess of limbs and confused barks. Millan has to retain his laughter; they really are one of the most idiotic packs he’s ever encountered. He falls to the ground and clutches his painfully pulsating leg with both his hands and leans on the sheltering tree, desperately trying to catch his breath. The pile of alphas and betas slowly disentangle themselves before their leader comes as close to Millan as the border would allow it. “If I catch your scum rogue ass on our territory again, I’ll rip your head off. Is that clear?”

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?"

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.

I replied, feeling a little embarrassed at being caught in the act of browsing for a book. Miles nodded, his eyes flicking to the book in my hand. “You like history?” he asked, a grin spreading across his face. I rolled my eyes, but couldn't help but smile back at him. “Yeah, I do,” I admitted, feeling a little shy about my interests. Miles chuckled and began to tell me about the history book in my hand. It was called “The Werewolf Chronicles: A History of Lycanthropy,” and it delved into the long and mysterious history of werewolves.

Miss you guys. Then I drop the phone again. My hands are shaking slightly. The silence of the large, unfamiliar room hums around me, a waiting silence. I break it first. “So, Isla… what are wolves actually like? Besides possessive and obsessed with titles.” She chuckles, a comforting, rolling sound in my mind. "Depends on the wolves, really. These ones? Traditional. Bound to cultures, customs, rituals, and strict hierarchy. Honestly, they cling to traditions more than any other supernatural creature I know. It's their method of staying grounded and hidden."

Tell who you are. The footsteps were slow and deliberate. Then they stopped. There was no sound until I turned. ‘Who are you?’ I echoed again. ‘We have net before.’ She paused and looked at me. I stared back and didn’t say a word. My wolf growled within me, waiting for a go-ahead from me to strike. ‘I am Miranda, the last of the witches of the royal coven.’ ‘Are they not supposed to be extinct?’ ‘We are. But a witch caused me to sleep for a hundred years and I had only recently awoken.’

I told him as I pointed at a few Wolves that were close enough to hear the conversation. Alpha Leon nodded and stretched down his arm for a handshake. "So, Alpha of the Millenium wolves. There is a nice place for you here, for all of you," I said looking at the wolfs in front of me. "Jake, will you be kind to show them their new area?" I asked smiling at him whilst patting his left shoulder. He nodded and gestured for the Millenium wolf pack to follow him. Here is the link to my facebook fan page https://www.facebook.com/rishanovel/