Wild Force Silver Ranger Novels & Stories

A spark of purple energy jumped from his skin to mine, biting like a frost burn. "Why are you here?" I asked, my heart beating against my ribs. "To save you," he said. The playfulness vanished. "You are standing on a sinking ship, Holly. The Silverfang Pack? They're dinosaurs waiting for the meteor. Come to my side. We're building a world where we don't have to bow to wolves." "I can't," I said. "They're my family."

Jon, Lance, and I included makes a dozen of us to their five. We are also coming heavily armed. We have never fought the Silverhair pack, although they are allied against us. We have heard of the mutant Silverhaired members and their superstrength. It is said their strength matches that of four men, which is why the Alpha probably wanted more men. However, I have instructed my team to soak arrows and rope in wolvesbane. We have also dipped daggers and spears. They are said to be immune to silver, but they are not immune to Wolvesbane.

Was this the source of his increased strength? I lunged at him, aiming for the glowing object, but as soon as I touched the crystal, a wave of energy pierced me like lightning, cutting my skin in several places. I cried as the powerful blow pushed me to the ground. Ragnar snarled as he approached my bleeding body. He opened his jaws, preparing to end my life, but I wasn't going to surrender. I was severely bleeding, but I used the last ounce of my strength to jump to my feet. Then I lifted the silver scales on my back, turning them into blades. Ragnar growled and jumped at me while I could only lower my neck and arch my back. It worked. His jaws closed, hoping to bite into my flesh, yet what

Silver immediately placed a thick wall of water far in front of him. Even then, silver knew that it wasn’t enough to stop the attack. So he used a single drop of his grace for his escape plan. A powerful force of energy clashed against the wall of water, sending pulses of shock waves across the land. The wind howled all around him. A beam of purple energy the size of a house swallowed his water wall in seconds. It was coming straight at Silver, creating a trail of molten earth beneath it. Silver released the pressure on the small ball of compressed water that was forming to his right. The resulting explosion sent him frying to his left, just outside the reach of the beam.

Shifting quickly, I yell at everyone to stop! As everyone freezes in position, I realise this was a death mission. None of these rogues were sent here to win. They were sent as a distraction. As I look around, I mind-link my warriors, “Take them to the dungeons,” I say. The warriors look confused until I repeat myself ending with “Now!”. Everyone starts to move. Shifting one by one, the rogues are cuffed in silver and start the long trek back towards our dungeons. Silver is debilitating to a wolf; it stops them from being able to shift and can be painful when it touches a wolf’s skin.

My fingers finally closed around the small can. The second they ripped my jacket open, I pulled it out and slammed the nozzle. Silver dust sprayed into their faces. They screamed and staggered back. But in the struggle, some of the powder sprayed back onto my arm. The searing pain made me cry out. Silver is poison to werewolves. "Fuck! The bitch has silver!" the rogues cursed, clutching their burned faces. "What do we do? She's hurt bad!" "Call him! If she dies, we're all screwed!"

Ryder had told me to hold human form as long as possible. Instead, I drew the silver dagger and followed him down the stairs into the chaos. The courtyard became hell. Phantom Wolves were faster, stronger. One slammed into a rogue, claws raking through armor like paper. Blood sprayed. Another leaped onto the wall and tore out an archer’s throat. I moved on instinct, the bond guiding me toward Ryder even as the fighting separated us. A Phantom Wolf lunged at me. I slashed with the dagger. Silver met silver fur. She screamed as the blade bit deep.

And did not come for me. “He is lying,” Silver finally whispers weakly. “He really left. Our bond never restored.” “Oh Silver… how are you?” I ask softly. “I feel weak,” she says. “I think we inhaled Hollowfang mist. It weakens wolves and slows reflexes. It works faster if you are emotional. It is dangerous when the heart is hurting. Try to stay calm. Do not let them break you,” she warns. “Thank you,” I whisper back. I glare at the guard still holding my hair, the pain shooting through my scalp. I open my mouth to speak, but suddenly his mouth crashes into mine.

War had begun. The Silverfang soldiers, a disciplined and trained militia, greeted the anarchy with tranquil resolve. They shifted into wolf form, a wave of silver and grey fur, and charged into the woods. Rhea's heart pounding, she sprinted with her pack, their tie a rope in the sea of chaos. The forest was a maze of madness. Thick with snarling wolves, ringing steel, the stench of blood. Rhea fought in a rage she did not know she possessed. She used her training, her instincts, her Omega power, to protect her pack.

Even then, she understood that her power was hers alone—and it was dangerous if seen. Life was far from easy. When Silver was eight, her parents were killed in a sudden raid by a rival pack. She remembered waking to a cold, empty cabin, the smell of blood and smoke heavy in the air. Her siblings huddled together, silent and trembling, while Silver’s heart burned with grief and something else—a spark of power she did not yet understand, a pulse that coursed through her veins with every beat of her heart. She could feel the forest, the pack, the world reacting to her presence in ways no one could see.