Crescent The Series Novels & Stories

She said in an almost inaudible tone. "Crescent Moon? Are they a powerful pack too?" I asked and they both turned to me with an expression that clearly says, 'don't you know anything at all?' Well I didn't know and that was why I asked right? "Crescent Moon pack is one of the strongest pack and they reside in the mountains. How can you not even know this Iris? I remember you received a history textbook as a present some time ago." She scolded. Oh, the gift from Chad. I had long stopped reading it. History was not my forte and I couldn't help it.

Broken relics littered long wooden tables—silver goblets, cracked masks, rusted weapons etched with symbols she didn’t recognize. Dust covered everything like an outer layer. A massive chandelier hung crooked overhead, its crystals blackened with age. Kevin let out a low whistle. “What the hell is this place?” Ryan walked slowly further inside, eyes scanning everything with sharp focus. “A Crescent archive.” His voice was low with a hint of respect now. The Crescent Clan were exactly as the rumours had it. Their aura was unlike anything Ryan had ever felt. Even in the abandoned archive, he still felt it… their power.

He sat up with my help, a confused look on his face. "Who are you?" He rasped. "I'm here to tell you what I know about the crescent sword. We don't have much time, so I'm going to be quick" she told him and he frowned. "The crescent sword is the only sword that can get rid of deities like Hera. It earned it's name from both the fact that a beam of the crescent blue moon had taken part in it's creation, and the sword possesses the shape of a crescent. It was last seen in the mountains of the king of the undead"

Okay this was beginning to make sense. “He was the strongest witch to ever exist,” Gunnar said, his tone still cold but clear. “The one who shaped Crescent Hollow.” My brows pulled together slightly at that. “He managed everything in crescent with the help of the fucking Moon Goddess” Gunnar continued. “Witches, vampires, werewolves, blood tithers, shadow walkers, night binders, even the cursed ones that no one speaks about openly.” I blinked slowly. Okay… that was a lot. And I was trying really hard to process it properly, but a part of my brain just went, ‘this sounds like a full movie series with at least ten parts and a very expensive budget.’

She has mean written all over her face. "Susan King. This is my husband Joey King." Susan introduces her lips turning into a curt smile. I am not sure what to think of it. "Crescent Armstrong." I reply with a tight lipped one. "So Crescent, what is your relationship with my daughter?" Straightforward, are we? I tense a bit trying to find a way to navigate the question without sounding like an asshole. Her husband on the other side seems unbothered by her wife's question. In fact he stares curiously at me.

"Fine. I want to see the human before I leave here. He must know who he is, and his relevance to this world so his life may be preserved. He cannot die or be endangered." "Vermin bitch." I mutter, seething. "I make the terms. Not you." "You don't understand anything. You act like you don't care, like you can't love, like you can't protect anymore yet you built the Fifth Throne and protected the vampires of the Central kingdom. What the fuck is wrong with you?" Now that cuss calls my attention. Crescent has never cursed before me throughout I knew her growing up. Basically, I knew when she was born. I knew as she aged, spoke, learned, until she became this young adult blabbermouth of a woman.

How was I going to find that out? I turned slightly to Damon. His gaze was fixed ahead even though it was a vast emptiness that laid in front of us. His brows were furrowed in concentration. ‘’You know the people of Crescent pack have a silly legend,’’ I began, keeping my tone very light. ‘’There are whispers about the reincarnation of their priestess.’’ If the information shocked him, he did a good job hiding it. ‘’They have too much time on their hands,’’ he muttered.

she whispered, her hand locking over my wrist as I leaned into her space, my lips meeting hers in a deep, possessive kiss that permanently sealed the final page of our survival under the bright Monday sun. The wind continued to howl off the granite ridges outside the high glass windows, throwing a wild, beautiful shadow across our private penthouse, but inside the master suite, the air was entirely unbroken. The hunt was officially finished, the trackers were dead in the dirt, and as the morning sun hit the high stone walls of our fortress, I knew with absolute certainty that the future of the Crescent Warriors belonged entirely to the unbroken dynasty rising from the ash.

She pestered and pleaded and even though I had already prepared to say no right from the moment she offered it, I agreed. We strolled down the narrow forest and though she was oblivious of how still and strangely quiet the forest was, jumping around and fishing out weird-looking leaf that she called ingredients for the herbs. The moon was a crescent one, shining the little light it offered into the still forest. My mind wasn't settled with the way the forest stilled with no sign of even an owl. And as I followed Aurora right behind, I watched my side and back of anything that could try to attack us.

Practically gift-wrapping herself and sliding across the table. I’d tolerated it. Entertained it, even. But I always knew. She wasn’t it. And Zey? Zey has never liked her. Not once. Not even a little. Still… Crescent Creek is our closest neighboring pack. Small — dangerously small — but they produce warriors that fight like demons. We need them. Which is exactly why this moment could not possibly be worse. Karissa slides up beside me like a snake finding warm stone, her manicured hand settling lightly on my arm.