Under The Oak Tree Epub Novels & Stories

she began, her voice soft as she closed her eyes briefly, taking a deep breath. “We’ve gone over the book hoping for a clue about the oak tree, but there wasn’t anything,” I explained, my frustration evident in my tone. “That’s because we hid it, because we couldn’t trust the Werewolves,” Naomi said, her eyes narrowing as she shot a glare at Bas. “The Werewolves always believed they were immortal, the greatest and most powerful creatures on Earth. But one day, the witches found the oak tree—a loophole given by the universe. When the Werewolves found out, they saw us as a threat, killing every witch they knew and destroying all the oak trees. But there was one. So my ancestors created this bo

Leonardo provided. "The oak tree in the midst of the pines," Hazel muttered as a memory flashed in her mind at those words. After a few minutes of pondering, her eyes widened as she realized what the clue was. "It's the oak tree in the middle of the large pine field, horses' hooves printed on the soaked ground on a rainy day, blood-red moon. The earth has been hurt, or is Mother Moon mourning for her dead children?" she began. "While many sleep, the earth weeps. What a sorrowful night. As the unknown enemy works in the darkness of the night. Under the large oak tree lies the secret to her salvation. But then again, it also holds the power to her damnation."

The morning air should have been sweet. It should have tasted like the promise of a new life. But as the sun rose over the First Den, the sky took on a dull, metallic sheen. The golden wheat fields were no longer dancing. They stood still, as if they were afraid to move. In the center of the valley, the Great Oak Tree stood tall. Its leaves were a deep, vibrant violet, pulsing with the soft rhythm of Kaima’s heartbeat. She was the wind. She was the soil. Every breath the wolves took was a gift from her.

With a gesture from Dad, I slipped behind the gnarled roots of an ancient tree, my heart pounding in sync with the unseen pulse of the night. As Dad moved stealthily through the underbrush, the air grew taut with anticipation. He emerged into a moonlit clearing, and there, amidst the haunting beauty of the woods, he confronted the unexpected source of disturbance—his best friend, Damian, the Beta of the pack. As soon as he saw that it was Damian, he breathed out a breath of fresh air. "Damian, it's you... What brought you here?" Dad inquired, the frosty breath of his words visible in the cold air. "Tonight is the Alpha's hunting day. You, of all people, know the rules. What's the meaning of

CHAPTER 3 He led me across the lawn towards a large oak tree. My toes sunk into the soft loam of the yard, feeling the lush grass caressing my toes as I walked naked towards the tree. The boughs of the aged giant swayed across the sky as though trying to sweep the clouds away so that it could be reunited with the sun once again. “Hug the tree, slut. Your body needs to be tightly pressed against it, and your legs need to be spread.”

Colton looks like he wants to walk into a tree. I shake my head, unable to stop the small smile tugging at my lips. “You two are terrible at lying.” Oakley beams. “Thank you.” “That wasn’t a compliment,” I say. “It felt like one,” he replies. Colton exhales slowly. “Let’s just… move on. The orchard is this way.” Oakley nods quickly. “Yes. Orchard. Trees. Fruit. No mysterious healer prophecies there.” Colton mutters, “Hopefully.”

Elara felt a prickle of awe, a sense of being in the presence of something truly extraordinary. They emerged into a small clearing, bathed in the ethereal glow of the moon. In the center, a gnarled oak tree stood sentinel, its branches reaching towards the heavens like skeletal fingers. Beneath its ancient boughs, the ground was carpeted with soft, dewy moss. Kael nudged her gently towards it, a clear invitation to rest.

It was old, its leather cover cracked and worn, with no title on the spine. Curious, I pulled it from the shelf and opened it, the pages brittle beneath my fingertips. As I turned the pages, I realized this wasn’t just any book. It was a journal—filled with the scrawled notes and observations of someone long gone. The handwriting was messy, the ink faded, but the words were clear enough to make out. The hidden chamber lies beneath the roots of the ancient oak, where the first Alpha of Silverwood made his vow. My breath caught in my throat. The ancient oak—that was the tree near the edge of our territory, the one that had stood for centuries, long before the pack was even founded. I’d always

The white tree was there too, smaller now, but still standing. A pup asked him: “Were the old wolves stupid? To fight over trees?” Oka laughed. “No, baby. They were brave. They taught us that choice isn’t between right and wrong. It’s between different kinds of right.” “What kind are you?” the pup asked. Oka looked at his moon. Pink, with one white spot. “I’m a Thorn who takes naps under white leaves. What kind are you?” The pup thought hard. “I’m both too.”

I knew he was supposed to be here. Thinking he was yet to come, I sat under the oak tree and waited for him. I kind of see why he liked this place, the cool breeze brushing against my skin was so calming, and the leaves on the oak tree rustled with the wind. I closed my eyes, breathing deeply, enjoying the calm environment. I think I was too engrossed in how good I was feeling that I did not know when I fell asleep. I don’t know how long I had slept, but when I woke up, I was moving in the air, my eyes immediately flew open, scared I was being kidnapped.