Village Of Shadows Novels & Stories

Amara Eldwood The shadows in our world have teeth. Large, razor-sharp fangs that will pin you in the darkness and consume you whole. At least that was what everyone thought ever since The Reckoning years ago completely wrecked Shadowville. I could still remember it like it happened yesterday. A maelstrom of disease and high winds that tore through the entire village, crushing towers and wolves and plunging everything into darkness. The sky had stayed red after, lightening in the day and dimming at night. Like it too had been permanently corrupted by The Darkness.

Lucky there’s nothing deep needing stitches. In my grieving and broken state, I begin to feel faint. I let myself go and pass out. Opening my eyes I feel myself transported into another realm. Standing in front of me is my grandmother’s house which stands in front of a looming property which I dare not go near. The “LeFleur” mansion. A place said to belong to my ancestors from centuries ago. A place that continues to haunt my dreams since a child. Something about this place calls to my soul, it pulls me and begs me to return. The house stands in the Normandy countryside. She feels it in the wind and air, she feels it in the depths of the earth, it’s as if a spirit like a piece of me is locke

The truck sped across the muddy beaten path full of tire tracks from other vehicles. Lukas stared at the bright sky. Even if it was morning, the fact that the things they fight in the shadows existed made the world a dark one that no sunrise could ever illuminate. Back when he was living in ignorance, everything was colorful but when he was pulled into a battlezone where incarnated nightmares are the belligerents, everything just becomes black and white. And he thought that the Moro rebellion was dark enough. This conflict, simply known in the documents as the Shadow War, had made him see everything.

Andre and Jacob struggled to have a child and just resigned themselves to being happy with each other, but little did they know, a storm was coming and their lives would be turned upside down. Next in Kilox Series – Andre – Book II.

She looks at me solemnly, not at all surprised by my question. "Please, I need to know. I need to try to at least keep myself safe," I tell her. "Don't you think it would be nice to get out of this mess?" I ask her. She seems to think about it for a moment before she replies. "It's called the Shadow Farm," she tells me. "The organization I work for. I don't know why, but they're after your life. And there's no saying who they'll send next if I don't do it myself."

Somewhere in the depths of the Underworld, a god awaited his bride—and Penelope, terrified and powerless, was being pushed toward him like a lamb to the slaughter. The Underworld pulsed with a life of its own. It was a place where shadows danced along the cavernous walls, and the faint hum of restless souls filled the air like a mournful symphony. The grand halls of Hades' mansion, carved from obsidian and veined with faint streaks of glowing red, emanated an eerie beauty. The torches lining the walls burned with blue flames, casting ghostly light across the smooth floors, which seemed to absorb sound and reflect only silence.

The bond spiked, sharp and urgent, and I spun, blade drawn, as the shadows at the chamber’s edge *moved*, not light tricks but *alive*, curling like smoke, forming shapes—hands, faces, eyes. “Get back!” Lucian shouted, pulling me to the center, his blade flashing as the shadows lunged, not solid but cold, their touch burning like frostbite. I slashed the dagger, its light cutting through, scattering them, but they reformed, faster, their whispers filling my head—*spark, key, ours*. Killian swung his staff, the runes flaring briefly, pushing the shadows back, while Mara stabbed at one, her knife passing through but slowing it. “What are they?” she gasped, her voice shaking.

Something had happened. “What is it?” I asked as I reached him. “We lost contact with the northern patrol last night,” he said. “They were supposed to check in before dawn. No word since.” I swallowed hard. “That’s not normal.” “No,” he agreed. “And that’s not all. Another village, farther east, sent a raven just before dawn. The message said they saw shadows moving through the trees. Too big to be animals.” My stomach dropped. The creatures with wings—the shadow beasts. They were moving closer. Bolder.

And then, silence. A scream shattered the dusk. Not Ridge. Not Luna. Something inhuman. They came from the trees—figures cloaked in rot and shadows, twisted armor etched with claws and blood-writ glyphs. Hollow pack. Their stench struck first—metal turned sour, flesh long spoiled. Trisha moved before command was called. Her axe unslung in one motion, she veered left into the shadows where screams grew sharper. Serin roared, “West line! Fall to the crest!” even as Ridge archers loosed arrows overhead.

Ava placed the reason too late. “Penny, no!” It’s too late now; she heard Passerini’s voice in her head. She couldn’t stop Penny as she charged towards the source of the cold spot. A shadow golem. The worst of the worst. At the same time, another horde of shadows came at Ava, cutting her off from Penny, both locked in a fight for their lives. These shadows were stronger. They were not fragments like the ones Sven could create. These were originals. They could have only come from one place.