Crimson Aesthetics Novels & Stories

"I think you can still tell Alpha Charles. He won't use it against you. And I think you will need to make amends sooner or later. It'll be best if you have more allies than enemies." "Political advice from a Fae?" He raised his eyebrows. "I guess I'll have to work on that." "I hope you do." Even as Krimson signed out, I stared at the blank screen, wondering why his blood-red eyes never incited the kind of fear in me that I felt towards Alistair. They both had blood-red eyes, but however different, Krimson's eyes never made me shiver in fear, or make me feel like I was being overwhelmed. But even in my memories…Alistair's eyes just felt…wrong. Like there was something so inherently evil in th

“However the Crimson Orders actual goal is much more dangerous and far older. Actually it wasnt founded in the 1980s. We emerged from the shadows and started to make an impact on the contemporary world at that very moment. The Order was actually established centuries ago by a group of mystics and alchemists who figured out how to access something primordial. . . “ I blinked. I had the impression that my brain was a tangled knot. “Primordial? What are you talking about?” With his free hand, Sloan made a hazy gesture toward the walls and the quiet people. “The symbols on the floor and the carvings on these walls are the Old Worlds language…the previous world. The Orders founders who were alche

Then humanity needed to change with it. At first, Husen worked alongside them willingly. He believed they were searching for a cure. For months they studied ancient blood samples preserved beneath the station. The samples behaved unlike anything known. They regenerated damaged tissue. They repaired cells. They adapted to foreign organisms instead of rejecting them. The researchers named it...Crimson Blood. Husen warned them repeatedly. "We don't understand it." Their answer never changed. "We'll never understand it if we're afraid to touch it."

This is another name for the human half of the Founding Ten. The Binding: A rare and ancient magic effect triggered by the ceremonial blood toast during an Accord marriage. It increases attraction and lowers emotional boundaries between the couple. It was created to increase the likelihood of a Crimsonborn being produced. The Crimsonborn: A child born from a sanctioned Accord marriage. Half human, half vampire. Children outside of Accord marriages are impossible. Without these children, the Accord will collapse. They age slowly and have the option to turn after the age of 18. The Crimson Registry: A registry of donors consisting of elite humans who offer their blood for favors of the Eternal

“Like I said before this meeting, this is quite different. For a wolf to be crimson, their eyes must turn crimson during every transformation. But these wolves, there’s something unnatural about them. They lack sight, Luna. It doesn’t sit well with nature. They’re crimson but not entirely crimson!” I nodded, feeling distressed. “Procreation,” I said out loud, thinking about it. “A crimson mating with an ordinary wolf to birth a child not entirely crimson but of a hybrid, is that what you’re saying could be their origin?” “No, Luna.” Sir Wilson shook his head. “It’s not it. For a crimson wolf to be mated to an ordinary wolf, power is given willingly. This way, their offspring shall become a c

Above that, the quote read: Sometimes when you lose your way, you find yourself. I’d definitely be looking up who’d written that quote later, but for now... I marveled over the mastery that was Black Crimson’s world. His strokes were big and bold and yet somehow elegant and flowing. It was like the perfect mix between wild and sophisticated. It was, without a doubt, a Black Crimson original too. People had tried to imitate him, but no one had ever gotten it quite right before. You could just tell which were his and which weren’t. He had very distinctive lines and details.

I temper her thoughts as I begin to recite my conversation with Lamia, bringing these werecats and whatever Crimson is, up to date and informing them of the new enemy – Orion Artos. “We are not strong enough,” Crimson interjects after I have relayed the details. “They are going to war in less than three months. I will be the first to admit our army has been weakened.” I watch Crimson as he runs a hand down his face and then through his dark curls. His yellow eyes flashed in a reptilian way. I swear they change, not just the color because I have witnessed them turning a deep red. But the pupils sometimes seem to take on a different shape.

Crimson exclaims, brushing my hair back over my shoulder so she can admire the sweeping neckline. "This is very uncomfortable," I grit out. When Roel isn't around, Crimson doesn't hesitate to fit me back into a schedule made for a Princess. Apparently my old closet isn't good enough for the new me, with today being only one of the many days ahead of me where my body will be poked and prodded at. I have suspicions that Crimson is looking for any detail of my body that isn't what it once was, like I'm decomposing before her very eyes...

I could tell they were the makeup artists Aunt Malisa had mentioned, as they entered my room and set several sleek cases beside me. With a soft click, they opened one case, revealing rows of shimmering eyeshadows, blushes in warm and cool tones, and lipstick tubes in shades ranging from soft pinks to daring reds. Brushes of all shapes and sizes lay nestled in their compartments, each one looking as if it could transform someone with a single stroke.

My breath caught in my throat. The room was breathtaking, an absolute masterpiece of decor. The high ceilings and large windows, draped with long, elegant curtains, created an exquisite atmosphere. The curtains, tied back with golden cords, allowed streams of warm sunlight to flood the room, casting soft shadows that danced across the walls. Every surface was tastefully decorated in pastel tones, pale pinks, soft blues, creamy whites, that made the space feel serene and inviting.