The White Death Novels & Stories

There was no use. Behind us, Thomas hovered in the archway, hand pressed to his wound, trying not to bleed out on the carpet. He watched Hilda and I with a silent calculation, waiting for the first move. I took a breath, exhaled through my nose, and said, “White wolves are targets. You know this.” Hilda’s face didn’t move. “Targets for what?” The question stopped me. She genuinely didn’t know. I almost laughed, but it came out as a cough. “There are maybe three dozen northern packs with an interest in that bloodline. The last true white wolf came from the north. They spent the next eighty years inbreeding themselves into extinction trying to keep the gene pure.”

“Because you’re his weakness now, whether you like it or not and because he killed our mother. You can use that passcode to destroy him in a blink, every damn thing about Leo is in there, it's called the White Book.” I swear my spine froze. My fingers went numb, and the sound of the chatter around us turned into static. “What? The White book? He killed your mum?” Her gaze didn’t flinch as she nodded, taking a sip of her drink. “Yes bestie, I'm sure you must have heard of the white book. It could control the entire nation of Russia, Mexico or even the continent as a whole. He poisoned mother, slowly and quietly, nade it look like an illness all because she wanted him to stop this life and be

Life without the White Wolf's blessing was like a nightmare they couldn't wake up from. Within a week, the lush forests of the Silver Moon territory began to wither. The streams turned muddy and dried up. A mysterious plague began to spread among the pups and the elderly, a cough that no medicine could cure—because the only cure was the aura of a White Wolf. Married life wasn't the sweet dream Alexander and Lucas had imagined. Instead, it was a total disaster. Before, they were the Gods of War in the pack. Every hunt yielded the fattest, most prize-worthy game. They arrogantly believed this was due to their own superior talent and strength.

"Vincent! If you drive away now, we'll never be husband and wife!" But he left anyway, not looking back. Grace had always loved seeing him in white, so he threw aside the black suit I had sewn for him with my own hands and changed into white. A year later, Vincent returned. By then, my belly was swollen with life, and I was holding onto another man while hosting a baby shower. And the man wore the black suit Vincent had thrown away. Vincent went mad, claiming he was my husband, but no one believed him. ...

Sophie whispered as she found it difficult to swallow. “ Yeah, I find that part difficult to believe ” I whispered as I chewed slowly thinking. “ Well believe it or not we all know what we saw. Yes I know that white wolves are termed myths especially in temperate regions like ours, but we all saw one in front of us. Though he wasn't completely white, a huge chuck of his fur was white. It snowed hard and the ring froze stiffly as George was. It wasn't even a fight as George was trashed and tossed around like a rag doll till he died. The whole Land was silent for a soil minute before a yell came from the Ashen pack as they yelled in disbelief after losing their leader.

I stared back, accepting the challenge. Verena I had never seen a white wolf before; I had only heard of them in stories. White wolves were so rare that the last one recorded in history died almost a hundred years ago. They were known not only for their strength but for their own individual rare power. It seemed my sister had found hers. As we raced through the forest toward the fight, I felt them before I saw them. They all gathered and ran beside, behind, and above us. The animals of the forest had heard her call, and they answered.

His wife, Iliana Granger, was Adrian's bitch of a mother, so we knew now that it was our little white Dove that we were on our way to claim. The name white dove had come from my mother, Nina. She said her coos always reminded her of a dove, and her soft white hair was as white as snow, and since then, the name White Dove had stuck. My mother was more of a mum to the five Vassilev children, and it broke her when Vi was taken, she felt like her own daughter had been taken from her. Their mother didn’t give a shit about the family; she just wanted the money and the lifestyle that came with being a part of the mafia. She had never been much of a mother to her children, and she was so jealous whe

The Eternal Moon. "It says here that the White Wolf is not a mutation," I translated, my voice trembling. "It is a recessive lineage from the First Mother. It only appears when the bloodline is threatened with extinction. But it also says the lineage was wiped out during the Great Purge three centuries ago."

He was one of the last remaining survivors of the White Wolves after Kieran wiped them all out. His name is Dagon. Unlike any other wolves that had ever existed. The gifts of the white wolves had always set them apart, making them both feared and revered. Among their strangest gifts was one that no one had ever known about. The White Wolves possessed an ability that no other wolf had. The ability to enter an extremely deep slumber whenever death became unavoidable. Once they entered that state, every sign of life disappeared from their bodies. Their hearts stopped beating, their breathing ceased, and their bodies became completely still. To anyone looking at them, they were dead.

Sometimes nothing at all. That day, he saw a person. She lay collapsed in the snow, a dark cloak blown open, a grey dress beneath. Her face was buried. Her hair spilled silver-white across the snow, indistinguishable from it. He crouched and lifted her face with his hands. The skin ice-cold. The lips purple. The breath so shallow he had to lean close to feel it. He pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. Burning. A high fever raging inside a body gone cold. Hypothermia. The most common death in the North.