War Of Art Novels & Stories

I knocked aside their hands and bolted into Belgard. The first horror that greeted me was graffiti scrawled across the 10,000-dollar wine barrels: *Jacques Mightiest*. Every glass I had commissioned at great expense from master artisans bore a tacky tag that read, *Art, by Jacques.* The drawing room, once lined with refined paintings by masters spanning centuries, had been stripped. The canvases lay heaped in a corner as though set out for a yard sale. In their place, an ugly canvas reading "Jacques and the Jax-Minnies" hung at the center of the wall.

She asked loudly, waiting for him specifically to answer. War sighed, hating how all of this was turning out. His wolf just wanted to grab their mate and go but unfortunately, it was just not that easy. Not to mention she was upset. "Pomelia is my mate...my name is War from Bane pack," he explained to her, knowing he should just get that out of the way immediately. Bane pack was infamous...not a place where anyone wanted to brag about, at least not in such a holy place.

Marcus said as he looked at the crown stored in a chest about to be carried by the warriors. "It's not meant for him to wear, Marcus. Initially, it's just an artifact that will serve perfectly as decoration," Lyra said, also admiring the crown. She really liked how it turned out. "I hope you can carry this through the forest with wisdom. Remember, we are currently the only ones who want this to succeed—peace. So, if there's any attempt of an attack, you must defend it with your lives if necessary, as peace is what matters," the wise elder said, seemingly indifferent to the lives of the people who would be carrying the crown.

“Deception on deception.” Theodore let his eyes roam across the pack, catching individual faces — young Alen who still paled at blood, old hearts who’d once been conscripted as hunters, women whose hands had known midwifery more than battle. “You will each have a role,” he told them. “We are not a horde but a web. A whisper in one place can topple a crown in another. This is the new craft of war.” He dismissed them then — not with anger but with the satisfaction of a set scheme. “Move in silence,” he said. “Make yourselves necessary in the places where they least expect it. Remember — we are not savages but artists. Our art is war disguised as life.”

"Yes. The artifact you're talking about, it possesses a dangerous power—one that can either bring great harmony or unleash unspeakable chaos upon our kind. It's like a double-edged sword." I listened intently as my heart pounded with excitement. Aunt Belinda continued, "I'm not even meant to be telling you this as it's your father who can adequately reveal all he can about this, but all I can tell you is of the reprisal - The Great War happened about 5 centuries ago and it's devastations are still felt till this day. The cause of the Great War was said to be a misunderstanding between two of the most powerful leaders of the two most populated species race during the time; the werewolves and

I whispered. “I told him control without conscience isn’t power,” he said. Sophia exhaled slowly. “That’s war.” “Yes,” Adrian agreed. I looked at him, fear and something deeper twisting together. “You chose me.” He nodded. “I chose us.” That word settled between us. Heavy. Real. --- The retaliation was swift. Contracts paused. Calls stopped being returned. Whispers grew louder. But something else happened too. Artists spoke up. Supporters stepped forward. The exhibition became a symbol.

“The storm is here. And when it hits… only the strongest will remain standing.” I raise my glass to the empty room, to the city, to myself. And after all these days of feeling nothing, I finally feel the thrill of anticipation… Because war, after all, is an art. And I am the artist.

This was my home for a long time, but I have nothing left here, no friends, no family, Everything swept away within the space of a couple Months. Let me start from the beginning. It is 2027 mid June. Our world has gone into crisis. Wars have been breaking out everywhere. Homes have been bombed, peoples lives lost. History, art, architecture, Everything that has been preserved and kept now lost in a cloud of smoke. This is World War III.

It wasn’t a game. This was war.