The Silver Eyes Graphic Novels & Stories

One second I am walking up to Sierra's gang that was armed to the teeth and the next I am literally shaking from meeting one guy. We got to a door with the poster of a skull and just beneath it was a little writeup that said; I didn't make myself like this you did. I remembered it from the tattoo that Anderson had on his chest. Remember Anderson the guy who killed Maggie. Maggie is yanno, the love of TB's pathetic life. eck knocked twice and after muffled noise from within the door knob twisted and the door opened an inch and bloody hell was there a gun coming out through the door?! i moved back on impulse and Beck chuckled, I shot him a glare which he totally ignored. The gun kept growing t

Nate gave me a reassuring smile before following to ensure proper procedures were followed. I sat on the wooden swing outside my door, watching snowflakes melt on my fingertips. My communication crystal vibrated. A message from an unknown sender appeared: "Think you've won, Isabelle? I'm carrying Karl's pup. Your victory is temporary." I laughed bitterly and deactivated the crystal. Natalie was both foolish and pitiful, sacrificing everything for a wolf with no loyalty. I removed the small red box from my pocket that Karl had left. Inside was indeed a ring—the first one he had ever given me.

He breathes next to my ear. I can smell the hot metal from here. The next minute I feel it searing pain on my skin by my lower back. I wail from the pain and my breath is gone. I see white. He then throws silver powder on my wound to prevent it from closing and healing. I scream louder it burns like hell, he just laughs at me. If it ever heals there will be a scar. I throw up from the pain and my tears are flowing down my face.

An uncomfortable sensation behind my eyes like the prickling of many needles causes me to keep them tightly shut until the sensation dulls to a mild ache. The visions attacked me then. Images from a distant past flash behind my eyes, the screams of women in distress push against my skull. Behind my eyes shut tightly, I see circles…similar to the execution circle that held me earlier… carved into stones and the blood from the screaming women soaking into the ritual lines. The women are bound by silver, just like I had been bound in the execution circle. I know these are not my memories but I am unable to tear myself out of them. “The silver must have triggered them," I think to myself in resi

"It wasn't that dark. What color were their eyes?" "I don't remember." "Yes you do. Everyone remembers the eyes. They glow. What color?" He was sweating now. "Green?" Wrong. They were silver. Bright silver that looked like liquid metal. "How many were there?" "I don't know. Many." "Give me a number." "Ten? Twenty?" "How tall were they?" "Tall. Very tall." "Taller than Nero?" "I. Yes?" He was guessing. Making it up as he went. I looked at his arms. His neck. The exposed skin.

"Wear it today. Let the pack see that the Alpha of the Silver Circle stands with us." As she looped the chain around my neck, the silver felt like a collar. The moment the metal touched my skin I wanted to rip it off because it felt like a lie. Every time I tried to focus, my brain flashed with images I couldn't place: a screaming saw, a field of black glass, and a pair of gold eyes looking at me with a love so intense it made my heart stop. Gold eyes. Not Aveline’s dark brown. Gold. Like Kael’s.

He was quieter than he'd been this morning, more deliberate, like he has taken on new information and is deciding how to carry it. I noticed the difference immediately. I was, I realized, already learning to read him. That realization was its own small alarm. "The Moonborn line," he said. "You know I mentioned it last night." "You said they were wiped out." "Fenna disagrees with the past tense." His gaze remained steady. "Silver eyes are a Moonborn marker. They surface under stress or power or when the bloodline is trying to declare itself. Fenna has treated three generations of wolves. She has never seen silver eyes outside of old records."

he asks — like he needs permission. She steps back, gives him space. His eyes travel over her, and she watches his pupils dilate. "Your markings. They're silver. Not gray — *silver*. Glowing." He reaches out, traces a finger along the ridge of her flank. The fur is warm. Alive. "And your eyes. They're not gold or amber like I've read about. They're pale. Like mine." She doesn't know what it means. But something shifted in her tonight. Something deeper than bone.

“Why did you stop? I had you.” “You had me before that too. You didn’t need to move like that to get me.” “Move like what?” I opened my mouth and then closed it again, because I couldn’t find words that wouldn’t sound insane coming out of an Alpha’s mouth. “Your eyes went silver,” I said anyway. “Not gold like they usually flash when you’re pushed. Silver. Bright enough I could see it from here in torchlight.” She touched her own face like she could feel the difference from the outside. “They do that sometimes. I thought it was just adrenaline.”

"Not much. Just old stories Dad told me once. A wolf born with silver eyes over a century ago. He couldn't control his power. Three packs destroyed before he was killed." "Killed? Someone killed a five-year-old child?" "They had no choice. He was too dangerous to let live." Maya's arms tightened around Kael protectively. "No one is killing my brother. I don't care what color his eyes are." "No one is killing anyone," Ella said firmly, though her voice shook slightly. "There has to be another explanation. Another way to handle this." I wanted to believe her more than anything. But the ancient texts had been clear about silver eyes. They signified power beyond normal werewolf capabilities. Pow