Novelas y relatos de Crepusculo

Alyssa holds hands and begins to sick soulfully: “When the heart is frozen, and your tears flow like the waterfalls in Alparo, when all seems lost and peace is yonder, oh! Daughter of the Ancient Alparo. Lift your hands to the sky, let your eyes glow, let your hands lead you to where the relief comes and power excels”. The entire room became windy, like a tornado. The books on the shelves begin to fall because the whole room is vibrating like an earthquake is about to happen.

Amante POV It was almost midnight. The cauldron-black sky was adorned by a few faintly sparkling stars and the heavy clouds half-covered moon. Its vague brightness feels gloomy with the shadows of snowflakes raining scarcely down the frozen grounds of Verte Monde. The chilly breeze was howling in the distance adding more mystery to the almost tranquil territory of the hidden werewolves’ clan.

There’s a decent gap between them. “Give me your hand,” Rathi hesitantly gives her hand and looks at her husband. “Lie down,” “Are you going to cast a spell on me?” “I am going to show you what you want,” “What I want?” “Close your eyes then you will see it,” Trusting his words, she closed her eyes. For some time, all she can she was the darkness and the warmth of his hands. He asked her not to speak a word, she stayed calm being in that darkness. Then Rathi saw a faint brightness at the far end which seemed impossible to reach. But she was dragged there and suddenly thousands and millions of sparks showered all over her and it’s so hard to see.

He felt a low vibration in the tree-trunk, he lay both of his hands. “Luan?!” he calls. “My Dear moonlight” he said. A string of light came out from Aelius pinky, then climb up until it reaches the treetop. In the road of darkness, Stella saw a string of light wrapped around her pinky. Then another string of light appeared from the direction of Aelius. It was as if, he is reaching out for her.

We did. The last two hours I pushed the horse hard and the road opened up as we climbed the eastern ridge, the flat land of the capital province falling away behind us and the drier hillier terrain of the eastern district coming up in the dark, and at the top of the ridge I could see the lights of the crossing garrison town below us and the dark stretch of the road that descended toward it. We came down off the ridge fast. The crossing was quieter than it should have been for a garrison town at the middle of the night, too few lights in the buildings, the particular quiet of a place where people have been told to stay inside.

The Festival of the Canopy was not merely a celebration; it was a living, breathing testament to the Matriarch’s Utopia. As the violet sun dipped below the horizon, the Cradle transformed into a realm of impossible, luminous beauty. Millions of bioluminescent spores drifted through the warm, humid air, painting the shadows of the massive branches in neon greens and soft, glowing blues. The cascading waterfalls caught the light, shimmering like rivers of liquid starlight.

Three weeks ago. The night of the blood moon. I ran alone through the high passes, heavy with young—nine moons along, the pup quickening with every step. The trail gave way. I tumbled, striking stone and ice, wedged in a crevice where the cold would finish what gravity began. I sent my call through the spirit-web to the healers. Needed the Alpha's permission to cut the pup from my dying flesh. Ninety-nine summons. Silence. The hundredth time, the bond stirred.

“I thought it was coincidence. Now I’m not sure.” That night, the hum grew louder. The city lights flickered in waves, traveling from street to street like slow-moving tides of energy. People gathered outside, staring upward as the sky began to glow—not gold this time, but a pale, living light, like the color of dawn breaking through fog. Alessandro and Lucia climbed to the museum roof to watch. “It’s beautiful,” she said softly. “It’s her,” he whispered back. The sky shimmered, the stars pulsing gently in rhythm with the hum. And then, faint but unmistakable, came her voice—woven through the air like wind through strings. You kept your promise.

ISABELLA’S POV The crescent moon hung thin and silver above the keep that night, but the sky around it had turned the color of fresh blood. A true blood moon. The pack called nights like this a time of rebirth, when the Goddess showed her crimson face and the veil between the worlds thinned to almost nothing. They filled the central courtyard under that strange red glow. Torches snapped and spat sparks into the darkness. Low chants rose from every throat, deep and steady, vibrating through my ribcage like a second heartbeat.

Celeste Evening didn’t fall so much as settle—slow, deliberate, like a hand pressing down over the ridge. The light thinned into a pale blue wash, flattening depth and shadow until distance became guesswork again. Not fog. Not quite darkness. Something in between. Uncertain ground. Perfect for mistakes. “Torches?” Tomas asked. I shook my head. “Not yet.” Light gave clarity, but it also gave position. Right now, ambiguity was still ours.