Uchiha Crest Novels & Stories

A blinding flash of lightning illuminated the entire observatory, turning the shadows to silver white. In that split second of brilliant, unforgiving light, my eyes tracked the trailing end of the scar as it disappeared beneath the fabric of his sleeve. Right at the base of his neck, partially obscured by the white line, was an old brand. The skin was puckered and raised, forming the distinct shape of a curved, broken crescent intersecting an iron crown. My stomach dropped into a freezing void. It wasn't a random injury. It was a symbol. The exact same historical crest I had seen stamped in black wax on the chained Blackthorne scroll.

Riven. I had barely slept a wink last night. The thought of what had happened cluttered my mind, giving no room for sleep at all. For the past hour, since I woke up, I had been seated here, staring at the white plastic crest on the table in front of me. The crest my father had given to me late last night. Every vocational in Silverfangs had their own distinct crest — a mark of their department and identity within the pack. But this... This was the hockey crest.

“Now, tell me, what did you find about the crest? And why is it so important that Cosimo is having Irina search for it?” “Not much that we might be interested in. At least, not in terms of power for Cosimo.” He said, and I shook my head. It was impossible for Cosimo to be doing something without the urge to want to get more power.” I said, shaking my head. He shrugged and I watched as he pulled a file from his suitcase, handing it to me. His eyes met mine and I opened the file, reading through the papers. The crest was inside, and the second I ran my finger over it, the eyes of the wolf glowed.

I listened in apprehension, though my eyes had not left the one called Black Frost, for even a second. Raising its head, the faint light, in addition to the Eye of Insight, revealed Black Frost to be a dashing young man in the late teens. It had cold eyes that seemed to be able to pierce through all things. It made a crest (a cap worn by nobles with a feather attached to it by the side) with its hands. It was not the regular kind of crest, but one he'd made out of frost and tucked its own dragon feather on. It slowly raised the black crest to its head, placing it with all the patience of time, then gazed down upon the men frozen from neck below, and laughed.

The same crest that marks my skin. Black and silver, with veins of iridescent green and gold running through it, the crest shifts subtly like oil on water. A crescent moon cradled by the faint outline of wings, one feathered and angelic, the other skeletal and decayed. Then a ring of intertwining elements, a coiling serpent biting its own tail, vines tipped with thorns, and a twisting plume of shadow and flame. Around the perimeter, ancient symbols etched in a spiral, each one representing a dominant supernatural faction, wolves, vampires, witches, fae, and others. The chairs surrounding the table are as unique as their occupants. Each one a reflection of its owner, shaped to accommodate not

He grabs a few more photographs and hands them to her. She takes them with shaking hands, spreading them out over the slowly, one by one. “Oh my god… It can't be...” She breathes out, and she begins shaking her head “What is it, Bianca? Where have you seen this symbol before?” Scott asks again. She looks at him again, swallowing hard. “This is our family crest... Our pack crest. Or… it used to be.” She says quietly and all eyes snap to her. “What do you mean used to be?”

she countered. “If you want to win the crown, you have to work hard like the other girls. There's no shortcut in becoming the Luna Queen,” Came his passive reply. “Is that why you have scars all over your body, your pack wants you to win badly that they don't care about hurting their own,”

and stands up straight from leaning on the bars. Himari stands up too after she makes sure the blanket covered Mizu's body completely and says in a serious manner, " Akane was right, tomorrow she will surely win her fight. Now, at the time had been already quarter to 9 we need to go back to our own room before 10 o'clock," she said looking at the wall clock. Haruto suddenly threw the rest of the cloaks towards them and they easily catch it. The black cloak sways strongly when they start wearing it. On the back, a logo of a terrifying silver dragon with an open mouth was imprinted, indicating they are from East House.

Even the hound at his feet wore a collar embroidered with the realm’s crest—a subtle but potent reminder that every creature under Destiny’s rule was prepared to defend her legacy. Doctor Gilead and Tabitha, the healers of the realm, wore similar royal blues with a distinct medical emblem displayed proudly on their right shoulders. Over their hearts lay the decussate sigil—the sacred X-shaped crest, symbolizing the crossing of paths, the interweaving of fate, and the rebirth of the Realm under a new royal lineage. It was more than a symbol—it was a vow. The room held its breath. Destiny moved one finger.

The helicopters arrived at dawn, their rotors cutting through the morning mist like blades through silk. They were not the utilitarian transports of pack enforcement or the sleek corporate vessels Dante favored. These were different—black and silver, emblazoned with an insignia that hadn't been seen publicly in decades: the ancient crest of the High Wolf Crown, a wolf's head encircled by stars, the mark of royalty. Silvercrest froze. Council members spilled from the manor, their faces a mixture of shock and barely concealed fear. Guards stiffened at their posts, hands hovering over weapons they knew would be useless. Whispers spread like wildfire through the gathered wolves, speculation and