The Owl House Comic Novels & Stories

Olivia looked at the sketch and saw that she had drawn a big hycwen and a werewolf fighting each other. Olivia bit back tears and quickly wiped off her cheeks to show no sign of nervousness. If she would get nervous, Sarah would get nervous too and that was not something either of them wanted. Olivia smiled at the sketch and caressed her daughter by gently moving her hands from her head to her back, “That looks so good Sarah. Would you like to come out? We have a guest with us.” Sarah had been coloring the hycwen with a pastel green shade and her fingers stopped scratching against the paper lightly before she looked at her mother again.

The two fell into silence, drinking juice while staring into space in thought. … It was evening by the time Kaizo left. He had stayed for several hours, catching up with his old friend. Once he was gone, Professor Dewsbury stayed in her office for a little longer. At 8pm, an owl appeared behind her window, tapping it gently with its wings to catch her attention. An owl in itself was uncommon, but this one was even more so. It had pieces of flesh missing on some parts of its body, and one of its wings was entirely made up of bones.

I peered my eyes open and stared across the room to find what looked like a white shapeless blur pecking against the window. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. “What the hell?” I hushed. I stumbled out of bed and carefully stepped over to the window. I heard Lucas stir awake. “Harper? What is it?” “I don’t know, there’s this white owl perched on the windowsill,” I said. Suddenly, Lucas shot out of bed and came over to stand beside me. Before explaining what was going on, he opened the window, and the owl hobbled into the room. I gave Lucas an extremely dubious look.

I drew the line when his talons got to close and nicked my shoulders. "Ow! Knock it off!" He would not be stopped, however, and I was slowly propelled toward the door. "Hey, calm down!" I said, pushing against the door, "If you want me to go in, you better cut it out now!" Surprisingly, the owl stopped pushing me and settled back on the lantern. He ruffled his feathers, smoothed them, then purred again. I put my hand on the large, polished handle, hesitating to enter. Though I was intrigued by the old-fashioned feel of the house—I'm a sucker for antiques—I could not figure out whether or not someone was actually here.

The scent of blood, an owl shifter’s blood, lingering in the air. I race up to him, seeing him crouching on the ground. I shift and come up behind him. He turns looking at me over his shoulder. “What do you make of this?” he asks me. When I can finally see, I’m surprised at what I’m looking at. The owl shifter is there, in his human form lying on the ground, his head separated from his body. “I think we just found Owen the owl,” I say to Avani.

Unfortunately, Grant Mercator is already sitting on his throne-like chair at the center of the second floor’s hall. “Where have you been, Oneil?” he asked while feeding the owl beside him. “Just outside,” Oneil replied. But he halted when he realized something wrong. His grandfather does not have any pet. Why does he have an owl now? He tried to check it clearly. He deemed it familiar from the ones that he took care in the grand barn. “Does this owl seemed familiar to you, Onei?” Grant Mercator asked. Oneil stepped closer but he is still a meter away from his grandfather.

Swirling prisms of glittering opaque colors. Gliding across the sky, weaving in and out of the overhead canopy, a large owl circled the great stone house built into the high cliffs. A second owl, then a third appeared, silently making lazy circles above the branches and the rambling house. A lone wolf, quite large, with a shaggy black coat and glittering eyes, loped out of the trees into the clearing. Out of the darkness, on the balcony of the rock house, a figure gilded forward, looking out into the night. He opened his arms wide in a welcoming gesture.

“Want to share one?” “I never turn down sweets.” He grabs a plate and two forks and goes onto the screened-in porch. “You seem to like it out here.” “I do.” I flick on the overhead fan, feeling the heat of the day hit us as soon as we step out. “And Tulip does too.” Owen smirks. “I have a really good crazy cat lady joke right now.” “No pussy jokes anymore?” He laughs. “I can always come up with one.” “I’m sure you can come up with one.”

The deformed feet had already marked the bird as a servant of the demon. Before he could decide what to do about this new arrival, a brown streak appeared out of nowhere and smashed into the crow. Black feathers exploded outside the window as the bird let out a piercing squawk. Ralin watched as the sharp talons and pointed beak of a brown and white owl tore the crow apart, then dropped the remains to the ground beyond Ralin’s sight. The owl turned and winked one of its wide round eyes at Ralin. Ralin smiled. “Thanks, Jenna.” He had not really needed any help from the witch—no single bird, demon bred or otherwise—was a match for his magic. But it was nice to know they had allies keeping an ey

Dawn was approaching when they finally decided to go home, each with a plan in mind to face the challenges of the next day. While Lola and Maya shared their confidences, the owl seemed to watch intently, its large eyes blinking in the darkness of the night. There was something mysterious about the way she kept her gaze fixed on her friends, as if she understood the depth of their words and the strength of their friendship. In a way, her expression seemed like an enigmatic smile, as if she approved of the two young women's determination to face their dilemmas. As Lola and Maya retreated into the house, the owl rose from the roof of the gazebo and, with a soft flapping of wings, flew away, dis