The White Death Book Novels & Stories

As he remembered the sight of his mother with her face frozen in death, he gritted his teeth in anger and swore to find the killer of his wolves, even if it was the last thing he would do. His eyes wandered over to where the white wolf stood among the howling wolves. She too, like him, hadn't morphed into her wolf form. Her eyes locked into his and he felt a sudden jolt of realisation. Like a puzzle piece snapping into place, all the random images began to come together in his head and his eyes widened as they finally started to make sense. The dead wolves, mutilated and killed His dead mother's body, found close to the forest The white wolf, found unconscious close to the border

It happened one day because the medication couldn't help her in any way. She was dying, and no matter what the doctors tried, nothing worked. She was certain she died because she was no longer in pain. She was in complete darkness, and it was so cold that she had no idea what to do. Suddenly, a light beam of light shone upon her, and she saw a woman in white approaching her, and with that, she admitted that she was truly dead. She was definitely an angel on her way to take her away, but when the angel approached, she gave off an unusual aura. The woman only asked her one question: “Do you want to live?”

I told him the truth and started chopping the veggies. ''Which book did you read about white wolves?" he asked me. "The legend of the white wolf and the curse on the moon goddess. Although I have not completed it, I did read a few pages in which it is clearly written that white wolves are extinct," I explained, and he nodded.

“Ma’am, we can show you a photo first, so you can confirm whether it’s your daughter. It’s just… when we found her, she had been dead for three days, and the body had started to decompose. You should prepare yourself.” With that, he pulled out a photo from the scene and handed it to her. In the picture, a small, blood-soaked body—mine—was curled up on the bed in an unnatural position. My colorless lips and my sickly, bluish-purple skin told her one thing: I was dead. Mom’s eyes widened. At last, she could no longer lie to herself and burst into tears. “How could this happen? How could this be? She was fine just a few days ago. How could she be dead? Daisy, you cursed child, you’re just like

There, right beside my husband Brandon in the photo, was my so-called best friend, Melissa. … Snapping out of it, I stared at Melissa's two-faced expression. She must have known about the lottery win by then. They had probably plotted the whole thing, faking his death to pocket the cash. "Noelle, don't take it so hard. You're already unwell. What if Brandon's death makes you worse?" I shrugged off Melissa's hand and asked with eerie calm, "Where's Brandon's body? I want to see him." Melissa blinked, thrown off by my composure. "In the ward," she stammered.

Fire flickered in my palm, called by thought alone. “Burn them,” Malrath whispered, fading. “And bring me the girl.” The mirror went black. I stood slowly, curling my fingers. Flame danced obediently over my skin. A new weapon. Perfect. The white wolf would bleed for me soon, her kingdom turning to ash at my feet, and I would hand her head to my king… smiling. _____________________ Daeira POV

He took a shower and when he was back into the room, Larisa still was not in the room. "She really has given up" he affirmed and went on to dress up. He dressed up in a white shirt white trousers. Black was his favourite but white suited him perfectly too. He sat before his desk. It was a weekend, a day he went to work pretty late. He glanced at the files on his table. They were related to what was going on in the Pack at the moment. He opened the first one and the first notable incident was the death of two people who had suddenly died at the same time with their face suddenly turning pale and their hair turning white.

Russia swallowed us whole in white. The cold was sharp and alive, the kind that bit into my cheeks and turned every breath into a little cloud. Snow stretched endlessly in every direction, untouched and blinding, and somehow that made everything feel lighter. Like the past could not follow us this far north. Like grief needed a visa it hadn’t been granted. Bibi fell first. Flat on her back. Arms spread wide. Staring up at the sky like it had personally betrayed her. “I have been attacked,” she announced solemnly.

Lloyd assumed he wanted to clear his head, and he could understand why. There was a strange warmth in the room, and it penetrated inside him. It was pleasant, albeit peculiar. Even the grim narration, written in a shaking hand, did nothing to quell it. It was his last journal. Or at the least of that era. 'The crew are dying,' Nathaniel wrote. 'The whiteness takes over their eyes, and their bones seem to be breaking from their body. Death and decay, all while they still move.' He set the pen down, looking over the smudged words. He hoped the ink was smeared due to his careless hand, not for any weak reason.

As such, Charles would never let the matter go out of hand. "I know Celine's death is unjust, but let's deal with it after this period is over, alright?" he coaxed Susan. However, it was obvious that his patience had reached the limit. "You knew about it a long time ago, didn't you?" How would Susan not understand what their reaction meant? Her tears streamed down her face. I never recalled Susan crying this badly. My death, the concealment of my death from the world, and the perfect hiding for the murderer…