Novel & Cerita The Silver Eyes Graphic

A few stare straight at me, horror plain on their faces. One of the Elders—Soren, maybe—drops to his knees, hands pressed to the torn-up ground. “By the Moon…” he whispers. “The markings…” I look down at my arms. Silver sigils glow, pulsing gently, sketching old patterns across my skin. They don’t hurt. But they’re aware, somehow. Like they know they’ve been seen. My stomach flips. I curl my fingers, trying—uselessly—to hide them. Caleb notices right away.

Silver. From the adjoining cell, a sharp, scraping sound echoed. The rogue with the glowing red eyes was scratching a piece of smuggled silver wire against the iron bars, deliberately drawing a thin line of black blood across his own palm. The toxic, burning scent of the pure metal sliced through the air, hitting my sensitive Lycan nose like a physical blow. The sudden shock of the silver's proximity sent a cold spike of survival through my veins, instantly clearing the fog of the mate bond. Killian felt it too. His head snapped toward the iron grate, his nostrils flaring as his Alpha protective instincts warred with his confusion.

I can’t keep my eyes off of him. I trace his left cheek with the tip of my fingers. “You are so beautiful.” He replies with a grunt followed by whispered words that I don’t quite understand. Did he say ‘goddess?’ My fingers travel across his face, and I try to memorize the shape of his nose and mouth. The colors keep bathing us, making it possible for me to see his eyes. Not for long though, but long enough to never forget their color—silver. Just like those of Raven.

Abigail said angrily. “Lady Grace, that’s because your magic can’t withstand mine,” the man said as he appeared in Abigail’s spot. He snapped his fingers, making her land on the ground facing him. He wrapped his hand around her waist as he pulled her closer to him. Abigail raised her head and met his silvery eyes. They were the same eyes that she saw in her dreams again and again. She felt like the world stopped around them. His eyes were sucking her soul making her get lost in the endless pit of his silver fire. His eyes were the flight of the dove in the cloud-filtered post-storm light. Before she could say something he cleared his throat at her.

Silver begged, coming close to the surface. Drew's heart beat faster as he took her in. She was tall, lanky, and delicate looking with fair skin that contrasted with her jet black hair that was matted with dirt and blood. She had the brightest and most beautiful gray eyes he'd ever set his eyes on. They seemed to beckon on him and he found himself drowning in them. His gaze fell on her lips. There was blood on it, it seemed to have come from the deep gash on her forehead... Blood. Silver growled. Who hurts her?

Her bare feet were planted wide, like she was bracing against an invisible wind. But her eyes— Her eyes were wrong. The faint shimmer Elena had seen before—the one she'd tried to convince herself was just a trick of the light—was spreading. Consuming. The soft green Elena loved, the color of new leaves, disappeared completely. Replaced by liquid silver that filled her daughter's eyes from edge to edge. No pupils. No whites. Just pure, gleaming metal that seemed to glow from within, casting faint reflections on the steel counters like moonlight on water.

That was definitely the reason. I saw 2 silver eyes belonging to a pale face, staring at me. The face didn’t have any features other than the eyes, that’s what made it worse. The silver eyes, it had no pupil. It was just.. completely silver, there wasn’t even any whitish sclera. And yet, there were eyelashes. No lips or nose either. I was totally losing it. Yelling here, however, was not an option. As a man, I would not let myself behave in that way.

Eyes, they found mine, and I’d never seen those eyes in anything alive. Silver. Not a hint, not a glimmer, pure silver, glowing from inside. No visible pupil, just light. It looked at me. And then it did the most unexpected thing, it lowered its head. Not a threat, not a crouch. Just slow, careful, making itself smaller. Offering its neck to the air. Fundamental submission, the gesture that says: I know exactly what you are. I knew before you did. I stood there, looking at the first wolf, the thing that had lived in the deep old-growth longer than the Elder system itself, with its enormous silver eyes and head bowed. And behind me, Rhydian stopped walking.