Wings Of Shadows Novels & Stories

“Centuries ago, twin alphas Fenrir and Faber Nightshade were born to lead Shadowfang. They fell for the same she-wolf, fated to Faber. Heartbroken, Fenrir founded Nightshade, carving a territory steeped in the land’s spirits. Their rituals, passed down through generations, border on magic, drawing power from the earth itself. That, paired with the three years of nearly complete silence... it feels deliberate and worrisom.” Aurora’s heart raced, her thoughts flickering to Vincent’s warnings about Nightshade’s unrest. The pack’s isolation, paired with this unnatural energy, pointed to something sinister. “This feels bigger than territorial disputes,” she mindlinked. “Like it could threaten all

He nodded, contented from my response. “The shadow pack has a secret gift, passed down to generations. Its an ability inherited from our ancestors, an ability to see through the shadow of the people. It is called the ‘shadow eye’.” I... haven’t heard of that. My confusion must have illustrated with my reaction that Jacob gave an immediate explanation for it. “I have the ability to see colors, shades of it, to the shadow. These hues have meaning such as envy, joy, sadness, wrath, arousal, some certain emotions. Also, uh, strength and… weakness.”

This hunger that kept her constantly in my mind. But a crazed panic overcame me one day while I was out for a short flight. I had left my office feeling tense and annoyed that I couldn't go see Amara until my paperwork was finished, deciding to Shift and take Erebos out to stretch his wings. It’s a long but welcome process for a dragon to Shift, with our body melding into our dragon's heart while the rest manifests through a cloud of black smoke. My solid black and scale covered body had been enjoying the sky just aimlessly flying over the forest when a distant cracking sound caught my attention. I dropped lower and found myself over the ruins, my heart stopping cold in my chest as I caught

waiting. Because shadows... never die.

The aristocratic nose, chiseled jaws, perfectly carved eyebrows, and sensual thin red lips were devoured by the darkness surrounding the room – highlighting the predatory gleam of his eyes. “Such a tiny thing can kill an angel without blinking,” Damon muttered as he stood at the end of the bed. With one move, he was now sitting at the corner of her bed. Her head which was revealed by her enormous wings gave him a peek of her sleeping face. One of his hands withdrew from his aristocratic posture, stretching towards the sleeping form. His hand reached towards her neck but was stopped midway by the cloak of darkness that her body emitted. “Shadow arts, I see. So that is the reason why the holy

The torches flickered violently, their flames twisting sideways. Cassian shouted, "Get back!" The earth cracked open in the center of the Vale, a jagged wound glowing with silver light. Wolves scattered, snarling. The energy that poured out wasn’t heat—it was hunger. From the fissure, a shadow rose. Wings—massive, skeletal, wrapped in light that hurt to look at. Eyes like shards of moonstone opened within the void. Julian dragged me back, shouting, but I couldn’t move. The shadow was looking at me.

Layna shifted uncomfortably, her unease palpable, as The Shadows closed in, their icy, unforgiving energy enveloping us like a shroud. The Shadows' presence was a balm to my fractured soul, a beacon of hope in the darkness. I knew they possessed the power to revive Roxy, to defy even death itself. The only unknown was the terrible price they would exact in return. I held out my sliced palm, offering them the payment they demanded.

Her pulse hammered, adrenaline and desire mixing into a dangerous cocktail. “Together,” she whispered, voice trembling. “Together,” he echoed, lips brushing the shell of her ear. His hands tightened slightly around hers, grounding her, anchoring her, even as the shadows threatened to pull them apart. The west wing surged. The shadows formed shapes—faces from memory, hands from nightmares, twisted fragments of people they had loved and feared. The room seemed alive, hungry for them, testing their bond. Ava’s grip on her father’s shoulders faltered for a heartbeat. The shadows reached for her, tugged at her arms, at her hair, whispering impossibilities: “Leave him. Fail. Join us.”

But when I open them again and look towards where he is, I still see black leather wings and crimson eyes. His fighting is even more impressive than what I’ve seen in Sahara’s gladiator ring. When the shadow aims some kind of power, he flies back, flips, and lunges at what I assume is its head. He flaps his wings, pushing the shadow back and aims his sword over it, cutting through it. He twirls again and piercing the center of the shadow over and over again until the shadow fractures and shatters into a million pieces. As soon as that happens, the fog fades, and the dark monster disappears, leaving the shadows of the true darkness behind.

I throw myself to the nearest wall and look around the room. “At least this one has a window to look out from”, I jokingly say to myself. I drag myself closer to the window, grab hold of the frame, and pull myself into the window leaning on it. I look in the window, I stare eyes wide through the blood-stained glass. I can see Brittany sitting in the corner of a room across from the room, I'm in. The window in the room is adjacent to another room next to me. I try to open the window but it's stuck, the window won't budge. I start shouting for her and banging on the window. I can see Brittany walk stand up and walk over to the window and stare into it. It's as if she is starting right past me