Wizard Howl Novels & Stories

It is actually the Moon Goddess’ plan all along. I try to find the family link and a link to one of my parents. I yell, in my head, “Dad!” I hear nothing in reply. I ask Willow, “Are we under a spell that keep us from linking anyone? It feels like there is something blocking it.” She replied, “There was another herb in your breakfast.” I asked, “What herb?” She replied, “There was a small amount of wolfsbane in the gravy too.” I growled, “Willow, you are now in charge of keeping me from wolfsbane.” She replied, “You got it, lady.” I sighed, “Now, I just need to keep trying the link.”

The trees around the cave swayed violently from the rolling energy. The bodies of wizards clad in tattered robes floated, creating a whirlwind of chaos in the air. They muttered spells in a foreign language, raising staffs and symbols toward the sky. The stench of sulfur and blood mingled with the smell of burning earth. I darted between them in my wolf form—my golden fur reflecting the magic light around me, my jet-black eyes glaring sharply in the darkness. My fangs bared, I lunged at the first wizard who aimed a spell at me. I leaped high, clawing at his neck before he could finish his incantation. Red blood spattered, but I didn’t stop. My body spun, dodging an ice arrow that flew from t

The oppressive silence was broken only by the sound of their footsteps and the occasional drip of water. Then came the growl. It was deep, resonant, and so loud it seemed to reverberate in their chests. The group froze. “What was that?” Sara whispered, her hands already glowing with magic. Zoe’s eyes darted around, her heart pounding. “Whatever’s guarding this place.” The growl came again, closer this time. A pair of glowing red eyes appeared in the darkness, followed by another. And another. “Wraithwolves,” Ellara hissed.

they said with a little fear of their voice but again the clown head laughed. "Of all the werewolves here in howling Island he is the only one different, don't make the mistake of trying angry the werewolf who possessed those spiral crimson eyes because otherwise, even your soul will not survive" all of them stunned of what the clown head said. Maybe they know of what she pointing but still don't want to believe. I wonder who he really is? Why he's the only one who possessed those spiral crimson on his golden eyes? Why he is the most different?

"Don't worry about her. When the time comes, I'll make her disappear forever." A collective gasp echoed through the hall. "No… that's not real…" Lyra covered her mouth, her eyes filled with shock and disgust. The images continued. The second image: three months ago, Meggie meeting with the warlock late at night. "It's time for the final step," the warlock said, producing two crystal vials. "The red one is for Hazel. It will cause her wolf spirit to completely dissipate. The blue one is for you. It will create the illusion of near-death."

He pointed out a large davenport. I just nodded, and he started walking out of the house. I let myself sit on the couch and waited. After a few minutes of being comfortable on the settee, I heard footsteps outside and opened the door. I saw Alarick holding the lead rope of a sorrel horse. “What is with the horse?” “We’ll ride this horse,” he replied and hopped on. I nodded and sighed. I thought werewolves can run faster than horses?

Making my back arch until my shoulders flattened against the table. Next to me the tipped candle caught the cloth afire. Blooming into an orange flame as he entered me. It spread wildly and I tossed my head to look at it. Panting nervously. “Don’t worry about that.” He waved a dismissive hand and the fire doused as if a bucket had been thrown on it. The black hole in the tablecloth smoking haplessly. Warlock magic. I yelped and clawed at the tablecloth. He growled low in his throat and stroked deeply into me. Withdrawing until only the heavy tip lingered inside. Then he eased back in. Embedding deeply again and making me gasp from the foreign feeling of being pushed open.

I’m looking over the meeting minutes and ticking places off the map when Tru’s voice pulls me from my thoughts, “Would the Willow know where to find the stone?” I pause for a moment. Willow is considered the spirit of the forests and trees. She’s old and wise and knows many things. Anything that happens close to trees, she will see it. Speaking with her is dangerous. Humans and other creatures have destroyed many different forests. Special huldra were created to protect her. The huldra would begin to sing if a man entered the forest where Willow dwells. The intruder would follow the sound, and the huldra would lure them deeper into the forest. Then if the man was lucky, he is given a quick d

“Ben, who lives in the dark house in the woods, the one you kept me from approaching that day I first saw you in the woods?” He blew out a hot breath, like he didn’t want to tell me, but I could tell that he would. “It’s complicated, Harlow, but essentially, the mage who lives there wants to destroy all of the good wolf packs. One at a time, she is infiltrating the good and using those who can be turned to drive us out of the forest or kill us, whichever she can accomplish first. Because of her, many of our kind have been lost to us, either leaving Whispering Hollow forever to try to protect their children, or not sending our kind back to us as is required by the council.”

Isla's POV The warlock's snarling voice echoed through the chamber, taunting and defiant. Deep inside the recesses of my mind, Cleo, my loyal wolf companion, growled in response. Her voice surged forward, urging me to act decisively. "Isla, we have to destroy him," she demanded. I could feel the power of her instinct pulsating through me, urging me not to back down. The darkness that emanated from the warlock's words only fueled my resolve. I couldn't let him win, couldn't let him escape the justice he so desperately deserved.