Charcoal Moon Novels & Stories

The female’s moon was a deep silver, like steel and the sun was a fiery orange/yellow, both in contrast to her creamy skin. Carefully I picked at another piece of popcorn. My job here was done, it had been seen through. The humans were collapsed in a heap, and I would have assumed they were dead if I hadn’t been able to hear their voices, their conversation too low to make out the words. Satisfied I ruffled my feathers and settled down in my spot, under the couch, for a nap while they recovered. For pictures of the tattoos and other goodies head to my F******k group Charlotte’s Chaos Corner

"I love you, Typhon Bloodclaw." "And I love you, Jonas Bloodclaw." "And I don't much love Carlotta De Leon," Fire Moon grunts. "So if one of you is inclined to help me, I'd like to tie her up and be done with her." I break away from my husband with a sheepish expression on my face. "Sorry, Fire Moon." Jonas follows and watches as the Spanish witch is bound and gagged. "How do you mean to get her up the hill?" "Oh, bloody hell," Fire Moon mutters. "I certainly don't want to carry her."

I vowed to return to this meadow, a bit of lost heaven, someday. Against the black firmament, the magnificent gods of the sky twinkled and gleamed, escorted by the graceful presence of the moon. Charlotte and Legolas sat in the lush green meadow under the stars. A brisk breeze blew across them, softly waving the long grass to the East. The moon, like the firefly, emits light. The owl's distant booming hooting rang in her ears, harmonizing with the insects' chirping. With the elf, Charlotte lay down in the grass. Legolas drew back, peering down into her eyes, after what seemed like an eternity.

The door shut behind him. Charollet slumped against the wall. Her chest heaved, and her fingers dug into the stone. The Rite of Moonbinding. She had read the term once in a decaying scroll stored deep in Darkfang’s southern archive, a place only scholars ever touched. It was not a ritual for power, but a binding that linked body to realm. It took the vessel and rewrote its soul. She was not a vessel. She was not a tether. She was not their salvation.

"Last chance Yileyna, think this over… We both know Andres is not the best king-" "I don’t care! Deceit, lies, and framing my parents? You are worse than him." I shot back resentfully. His eyes darkened as he looked at his wrist. "As you wish." He said, glancing out at the sky. "Do you know what tonight is, Yileyna?" "The Full Moon, Charlene just told me." I spat. I didn’t want to talk to him. It hurt far too much. "The last Full Moon of winter. Tonight will be a cold night, I guess we will have to keep the fires burning…"

"So, it's a special moon tied to the blossoming of flowers?" I nodded, excitement coursing through me. "Indeed! It's a celestial celebration of nature's rebirth, a reminder of the beauty that surrounds us." Charlotte, still caught in his own world of whimsy, gasped and joined the conversation. "Oh, the horses must be dancing under the moonlight, their hooves tapping to a secret rhythm." "Yeah, we should join them. Now put the air and let bask in the holy moonlight," I said. . "My skin will burn if I sunbathe under the moon," Charlotte complained.

' she thought. That night, Charlotte leaned by the window, seemingly deep in thought. She had shed her complicated daytime attire and wore only a thin nightgown. In the moonlight, her silhouette resembled that of a sorrowful fox—pure yet seductive, with eyes full of unease. She was gazing straight at the moon hanging from the treetop. A few faint stars peeked through the sky, using the last of their strength to twinkle. Surrounded by clouds, they fought to shine but ultimately disappeared into the haze. Only the moon remained while the stars around it vanished from view.

Terrifying. We reached a small clearing, and I froze, my breath catching. There, nestled among the roots of an ancient oak, was a patch of Moonshade flowers—rare, delicate blooms that only unfurled under the light of a full moon. Their petals shimmered like liquid silver, glowing faintly in the dark, and I stepped closer, mesmerized. “Gods,” I whispered, crouching down. “I’ve never seen them in person.” Lucien paused beside me, his presence warm and solid. “They’re special,” he said softly. “Their scent changes with the moon’s phases—jasmine tonight, but by the waning gibbous, it’ll be something sharper, like clove.”

Jake replied. Charlie came running into the kitchen. "Alpha! I found it! I had to dig way back, and I mean hundreds of years back! It's the oldest book we have." "Ok I get the point spill." Jake ordered. "Ok this is some straight up myth stuff." Charlie remarked. "Charlie!!" Rae warned. "So, there was a pack called Angel moon pack. The Luna was a strong winter white wolf. She was a very kind Luna who came across a bad Luna who was ripping apart another she wolf.” Charlie begun.

The vitality of the Charmed Woodland streams through the water, making swells that reverberate the interconnecting of all things. “This lake is like a reflection of existence,” I muse, captivated by the peaceful scene. Celina's words are wonderful. "And the charm of the Charmed Timberland includes profundity to that reflection." Alder's voice is calm. "Let's make sure beyond any doubt that the reflections stay genuine." Our travel at that point takes us to a kingdom where the moon's gleam casts a quiet brilliance over a peaceful woodland. The charm of the Charmed Timberland harmonizes with the moon's vitality, making a climate of tranquility.