Velvet Crowbar Novels & Stories

The man was standing over her, sweat and Zelena’s blood coated his stained singlet shirt. “What the fuck?” the man exclaimed. I lowered my head and bared my teeth, growling and snapping at the man. I slowly stalked towards him as he took steps back. Cole and Smith jumped down the stairs and stood behind me on either side. The man turned around and rustled around on the work bench, he turned back holding a small crowbar in his hands. He held it out in front of him waving it at me. Interesting, he doesn’t seem overly shocked to see three giant wolves in his house.

(Felix’s POV) The coven gathered in the ruins of the old cathedral, shadows clinging to the cracked stone walls as if they belonged to us. Moonlight spilled through broken glass windows, painting patterns across the floor like bloodstains. Valentina lounged on a toppled column, her crimson lips curling into a smirk. “The wolves are restless,” she drawled. “I hear whispers of a white wolf awakening.” My jaw tightened. “Not whispers. Prophecy.”

The floor of the grand hall didn't just shift; it yawned open like a mechanical throat. A sub-floor rose, bringing with it six "Crows"—Viktor’s personal honor guard. They were silent, armored in matte-grey plating, and armed with high-frequency blades that hummed with a lethal blue light. "Kill the variable," Viktor commanded, his voice devoid of paternal warmth. "Bring me the Rose." The Crows moved with a terrifying, synchronized speed. Julian barely had time to throw Sloane to the side before a blade sliced through the air where her neck had been, carving a molten line into the stone pillar behind her.

The Crowshrike elder's vengeance is not a blade-it's a *seed*. Lila's laughter rings through the clearing, high and discordant, as the moonflowers writhe around her. The roots coil into a throne of thorns, lifting her above the fray. Her eyes, once wide with the innocence of a rescued child, now glow with the Crowshrike's spectral green. The elder's voice spills from her lips, warped and guttural. *"You stole our vengeance, Stormbearer. Now we steal yours."*

When he reached the center of the circle, the silence that fell over the three hundred men was so absolute I could hear the drip of the rain off the cranes. Vulture stepped forward, his heavy vest torn, his face mapped with fresh soot from the reservoir lockdown. He held a silver object in his hands—not a crown of gold or jewels, but the heavy, reinforced steel sprocket of a Harley’s drive chain, polished until it shined like diamond, its edges sharp enough to draw blood.

Attached to it was the barbed head of a flail. Then, the bat creature's eyes turned blood-red as it swung the flail violently toward Wilbur.

Proud that he almost revoked Rori’s right. Vladimyr and I found a quieter corner of the terrace, where the mist began to lift and the sun warmed the chilled stones. We spread out a blanket while Miranda laid out cider and pastries, and the twins eventually wandered over, still trading barbed remarks and mock insults. Victor tossed a long, vine-wrapped stem onto Vladimyr’s lap. “Here. So you don’t look so grumpy. I call it the Crown of Brooding.” Tori leaned closer, inspecting her work with a sharp grin. “You need something to match the bloodthirsty cheekbones. This’ll do.”

Integrity +1 → 8/10 Remy Dagger Sync +1 → 95% Celeste Valentina Morua—14, Level 2, Crown equipped— curled into Remy ready for Monday and every mist-space night after.

Feel betrayed already? Either man or woman, your lover might let you down one day The bass in Velvet Room pulsed like a heartbeat made of neon and regret. Bodies moved against each other under violet light, drinks poured over glittering rims and the hum of scandal traveled faster than any song played by the DJ.

I twisted my body, narrowly dodging the attack, and immediately countered with a sharp, calculated kick to his knee. The impact sent him staggering, but he recovered quickly, growling in fury. He swung again, his grip tightening on the crowbar, his movements fueled by desperation. This time, I ducked low, feeling the rush of air as the weapon barely missed the top of my head. Before he could adjust, I shot my arm up, grabbing his wrist in a vice-like grip and twisting it sharply. A sickening crack filled the space, followed by a bloodcurdling scream. The crowbar clattered to the ground with a dull clang, but I wasn’t finished.