Winter Swan Novels & Stories

Marissa was about to flare up, but I pointed at Kyle's neck and said coldly, "Marissa Langley, what right did you have to give Nora's protection pendant to someone else?" Marissa's expression changed, and the words stuck in her throat. That pendant had been made from a family heirloom of mine. My daughter had worn it since birth, for fifteen full years. "It's just an object," Marissa said coldly. "Kyle kept catching little colds around that time, so I gave it to him for protection. "Owen Duncan, why do you always have to fixate on these tiny things?" I slowly lowered my hand. Little colds. Tiny things.

The tattoo of the phoenix on the baby's left hand. She knew she was holding the Phoenix of Winter in her arms. Finally! She had her chance. Discarding the lifeless body of the baby's mother, Ursula flew with the baby on her magical broom to a very desolate tower. Her plan was to keep her there, because if she is caged in, there is no way she would be able to find the destined Ice King.

The world around me seemed hushed, draped in an ethereal shroud of silence that only winter's arrival could bestow. My senses were tantalized by the aroma that hung heavy in the crisp air—a symphony of snowflakes, each one a delicate note contributing to the grand composition of nature's breath. This was a fragrance unique to winter, a blend of cold purity and untamed wilderness. The snow-laden ground and the towering sentinels of the forest seemed to hold their breath, waiting for the world to awaken from its frozen slumber.

... The car drove through the night, stopping at a secluded dock by dawn. I stared at the cargo ship's silhouette against the horizon and exhaled deeply. Wallace handed me a black suitcase with new identity papers and cash. "This ship will take you to Singapore, and then you'll fly to Switzerland," he said. "Your mother left a trust fund there, and her loyal staff manage her businesses. They'll meet you. She told me to keep this safe, in case the Winters ever failed you."

EMMA I got to the Swiss estate before Adrian which was perfect for me. I grabbed my bags before the driver could help and headed straight inside where a woman in her fifties was waiting. "Ms. Ashford, welcome. I'm Helen, the estate manager," she said with a smile. "Let me show you to your room." "The master suite," I said, following her up the grand staircase because if Adrian thought he was going to waltz in here and take the best room he had another thing coming.

Me and Catherine… I didn’t like the way that sounded. “I would like that very much,” I replied, swallowing back my bad feelings. “We don’t experience Withergreen in Eswen.” She looked surprised. “I suppose we are too far south, or too close to the sea. We have two seasons, really – Sunswell, and what I suppose you would call the Frostwane. So your two choices are “hot” or “less hot”.” “No offense, Grayson, but that sounds awful,” she laughed. “You’ve never told me that before.”

Still, the idea of escape pulsed in her mind like a persistent echo. She walked over to the window and drew back the heavy curtain. The pale winter morning flooded the room with its icy blue light. Before her stretched the vast beauty of Aspromonte—hills blanketed in white, trees heavy with snow, and a clear sky just beginning to stir with the faint glow of the sun. A frigid wind beat against the glass, and for a moment, Svetlana imagined what it would be like to lose herself in that vastness, to disappear into the mountains until no one could ever find her.

A crescent moon nestled in faintly clouded glass, with three tiny snowflake crystals dangling from the edge like frozen stars. She reached out, fingers hovering just above it, heart tightening. WinterMoon. Her home. Or… the home she left behind. The sound of the crowd softened behind her. The music faded. That charm—that moment—was WinterMoon. The night skies. The quiet hush of snowfall on the hills. The scent of pine and frost and something wild. It was the silence of the woods and the hum of belonging. Her throat tightened. The warmth she’d felt only moments ago didn’t vanish—but it dimmed. The edges of it curled in on themselves. She didn’t touch the charm. She didn’t have to. Just lookin

One look in his stormy grey eyes at such closeness always had this effect on me. I couldn’t keep the contact and looked away. Neither of us stepped away from each other. “It is so beautiful here. Like a winter wonderland.” I whispered. The moment felt too delicate. “It is even better in the Summer. I’ll show you when the lake unfreezes.” He offered. “I’d love that.” I smiled up at him. “The water is so clear, you can see the lake bed. It is a lot deeper than it looks. That’s when the swans migrate here from the Northern winter.” He told softly as if reminiscing a memory.

As Max had phrased it, ‘You could fuck a tree, and as long as you are a good person, I would accept you. I’m currently sitting by the lake; this has become my paradise. We have been blessed with a small flock of swans who have decided to make a stop on their way south for the winter. They are truly majestic creatures and appear unfazed by the presence of wolves. Their pure white feathers glisten when wet, and they own the water.