Crepusculo Book Novels & Stories

The curse of the iron rose is about this small land which once was rule by both darkness and light but for a unknown reason, the darkness starting the war that is still being fight to this day. When all light are gone along with the the land history, magic and the believe in the creators, marker, zodiac sister. The darkness replaces it with their own and brain wash everyone in Everwood. When the light start to some back into the land, the zodiac sister is ready for a round, but this time, their more powerful. Will the light won this time and end the darkness era of power after many years? Read the keeper journal to find out.

Upstairs, in the master bedroom, the door was left ajar, letting out a heavy stench of blood that even overpowered the room's fancy cedar scent. A man sat in a wheelchair among the broken ceramics and bloodstains, fiddling with a scalpel still wet with blood. Next to him, a traitor shivered on his knees, his throat cut, twitching as death crept closer. "Another one comes to meet their end?" His voice was gritty and dark, laced with a sinister delight for bloodshed. I shut the door with a flick of my wrist, turned the lock, and shut out the prying eyes.

A spider crawled lazily out from the fold, disappearing into the night. Her breath hitched. She turned to the second page. And there it was—written in dark, crimson ink, the words bled like veins through the paper: "The Red Moon Child.. Alessia." Her eyes widened in shock. The book slipped from her trembling hands and fell into the pool with a soft splash. But instead of sinking, the water began to glow, first faintly, then blindingly bright. The ripples shimmered, turning from blue to pure white, swirling like a living vortex.

“Please don’t do this. I don’t want this. I just want to leave. I just want it to stop. ” Her smile widened unnaturally. “You don’t get to choose anymore. ” “No, ” I sobbed. “Please… ” Darkness surged forward, slamming into me like a wave. I screamed as something ripped through my chest, spreading fast and merciless. My limbs locked, my vision blurring as the ground vanished beneath me. The last thing I felt was the loss of myself. Then everything went black. THE CURSE I stretched, bones shifting beneath thick fur as I rose from the forest floor. The night welcomed me like an

It wasn’t male either. It was both. And neither. And it knew him. He slammed the book shut. The flames on the torches flickered. > “Someone’s protecting her. Someone older than any of us.” Alex turned to leave—but before he did, he noticed one book... tucked deep into the wall, half-hidden behind a cracked obsidian skull. Its title glowed faintly: “The First-born Flame: Records of the One Who Watched the Moon.” He reached for it. But the moment his fingertips touched the leather, the runes around the library pulsed—and the book… vanished.

another priest added. The High Priest stared in horror. "They're going to burn the Temple of the Moon?" A crash was heard. The smell of smoke drifted through the window. "They've started," I whispered. Orange flames licked up the eastern wall. Black smoke billowed into the sky. "Everyone to the crypt!" the High Priest shouted. "Now!" We ran through corridors filling with smoke. Heat pressed against the walls, making the air shimmer. Down spiral stairs, deeper into the temple's heart. The High Priest pulled open an iron door carved with moon symbols. Cold air rushed out, smelling of earth and ancient stone.

I maintained a polite but distant demeanor, holding the book with just the right amount of pressure on the spine, neither ingratiating nor reluctant to part with it. This rare book had tempted me, but it wasn't something I should accept. "Mr. Gross, I finished reading the book last night. Thank you for lending it to me," I said, placing the book on his desk. "I said it's yours now," Cyrus said, his gaze lifting. The scent of cedar and leather washed over the desk, carrying the subdued dominance of his Lycan heritage. His pupils gleamed with a faint golden light under the lamp, the edges of his vertical pupils barely visible, like a lurking predator slowly opening its eyes.

I help her lift it up, and that is when we see the book that is just sitting there in the sand. I hear Nova's breathing seize. “What's that?” She asks, her voice barely above a whisper. I look around one more time, making sure that we aren't being watched, as I pull the book out of the sand, dusting off the cover. There isn't a name. As I open the book and flip through the pages, they are slightly damp, with almost all the pages empty. I get to the middle, and that is when I see the first drop of ink in the book. The handwriting is more or less scribbling, but I can clearly read everything.

Now, I walked the crumbling path alone, feeling the stones call to me. Inside, the ruins whispered. Wind danced through the broken arches, and moss grew thick between shattered bookshelves. But something called from beneath the rubble—a glowing thread of energy I couldn’t ignore. I knelt and pushed aside stones until my fingers brushed leather. A book, sealed with iron clasps and etched with a crescent moon. I touched it—and the world blurred. Visions exploded behind my eyes. Fire and fangs. Wolves bowing beneath a star-filled sky. A woman—the woman—standing atop a mountain, howling to the heavens. Her voice split the clouds.

It didn’t feel like mine to touch. And then—just as I was about to turn away—a spine caught the edge of my gaze. Not with color or glimmer, but with its silence. It was tucked almost too neatly between two broader tomes, their gilded edges crowding it as if to hide its presence. The binding was dark, a shade between bruised purple and coal, cracked with age, and unadorned save for a single phrase impressed in thin silver serif: “The Quiet Cull: A Forgotten History of Hybrid Extinction.”