Winter Woods Novels & Stories

It is a trading company. Today I have the Winter. co and several affiliated companies all over the country. Several properties and factories, hotels, and stores. And the best part is no one can find out it’s me who owns them. The companies are owned by Kian and Alex Winter, but because they are minors I am their Guardian, but there is no trace of me when anyone looking into the company. I am simply an employee from the outside. My most trusted employees and my lawyers know of course how it is.

"Take a good look. You sent this to me yourself. It's you treating my husband like a dog. You two have some truly disturbing tastes." An older woman in the crowd pointed at Brynn, shaking her head. "I can’t believe she’s a homewrecker and still acting like the victim. People who destroy families like this should be ashamed of themselves." Several women began pulling vegetable scraps from their shopping bags and throwing them at her. Then someone hurled a rotten egg. It struck her square in the forehead. "You ruin other people’s families and still act shamelessly? You don’t deserve to be called human!"

*Winter* The air was thick with dread, a palpable tension that clung to me like an unwelcome shroud. Each strained breath felt heavier than the last, weighed down by the ominous atmosphere surrounding the Whispering Reef. Walking side by side with Aaron, I couldn't shake the prickling sensation on the back of my neck. Was it just the chill of the winter air, or was there something far more sinister lurking just out of sight? The trees loomed tall and twisted, their gnarled branches reaching out like skeletal fingers against the bruised sky, casting everything in an unsettling shade of gray.

They pulsed with a gentle, golden light, completely banishing the gloomy shadows that had hung over House Winter for centuries. Tables of polished oak groaned under the weight of the grand feast. There were roasted wild boars glazed with mountain honey, massive platters of smoked trout caught from the glacial streams of the Peaks, and towers of spiced winter bread that filled the air with the sharp, comforting scent of cinnamon and clove. Casks of the Shield’s finest dark ale and the royal vineyards’ pale, glittering mead were tapped without end, poured into heavy pewter tankards that clashed together in a relentless rhythm of toasts.

My eyes drifted to the date in the corner of the photo, and my breath caught. November 6. Three years ago. The day before that was the day I found out I was pregnant. I had been so happy then. I believed that once Ethan heard the news, he would cry happy tears like I did. I thought he would rush to marry me and give our child a complete family. However, the moment I told him, the smile vanished from his face. “Vivian, I have told you many times. Marriage and children are not part of my plans for the next few years.

Winter always made her think of the lives that passed on, but also of new beginnings yet to come. The icy winds howled through the passes, seeking any gaps to invade the dens of the werewolves. Frost formed intricate patterns on the windows as the fires crackled inside, providing what warmth they could against the bitter cold. Townsfolk gossiped by their hearths, recounting stories of winters past when blizzards raged for weeks on end, isolating entire villages under mountains of snow.

1: Into the Frost The winds howled louder the farther north we traveled. Trees thinned until only skeletal birches remained, their white bark like bones scraped raw against the sky. Snow fell in whispered curses, flurries that never ceased, clinging to our cloaks and lashes. The Hollowed Peaks lived up to their name carved by ages and forgotten battles, haunted by memories no one spoke aloud.

A woman who did not waste time on opinions that did not fill the larder. "Thank you," she said. "For the bread." "For telling me something real." Darius looked at her for a longer moment than the lantern light quite justified. "You asked. I answered." "Most people answer with less." "Most people are not sitting here." Wren turned the last crust of bread in her fingers. "Do you have a favorite time of year there." "Late autumn," Darius said. "Before the deep snow. The air turns sharp. The forests along the upper slopes go quiet in a way that feels earned. You can walk the ridge path at dusk and hear almost nothing except your own steps and the wind. It clears the head."

Lyra and Ronan, accompanied by a small group of trusted warriors from different packs, embarked on their quest. The Whispering Woods lived up to its name. The trees whispered secrets on the wind, the shadows danced with deceptive ease, and an unnatural stillness hung in the air. The very air seemed charged with ancient power, a palpable sense of age and mystery clinging to every leaf and stone. As they journeyed deeper into the heart of the woods, the air grew colder, the shadows deeper, the whispers more insistent. Lyra, sensitive to the subtle energies of the land, felt a growing unease, a sense of being watched, of being judged.

On the day I was diagnosed with stage four cancer, Vivian Cross handed me a contract for a divorce reality show. I already knew that meant she'd lost another bet to her secretary, Miles Smith. They'd made ninety-nine bets over the years, and every time, Vivian let herself lose on purpose. She lost the house we decorated for our wedding. She lost the wedding itself. She even lost our son's body, handing him over so Miles could satisfy his twisted curiosity about the human body. Our baby had been seven months along when they donated his remains. He'd been so small. Vivian slid the contract across to me, tapping the papers. "Ethan, I lost another bet. It's just a reality show. Help me keep M