Crimson Claws Novels & Stories

The heavy obsidian doors shattered into a shower of black splinters. Through the dust and the rising steam, a horde of monstrous, shadow-covered creatures surged into the ancient cavern. They were not ordinary wolves; their bodies were warped by dark, void-tainted magic, their eyes glowing a sinister crimson, and their elongated claws dripping with viscous, acidic venom. Dominic’s inner wolf let out a feral, bloodthirsty roar that shook the columns of the hall. "Clara, stay behind the throne!" Dominic commanded, his voice laced with absolute, tyrannical authority.

"Are you?" "Yes, just a little wolf problem." "How about your friends?" She had been standing close to a little dark skinned girl which was part of the clan of the Nymphets. All of them with double the outstanding beauty of a vampire. "We are all good." "Okay." The adjudicator returned, holding a flooded red clothe in her hands. "You know I don't like the red robe—" She unfolded it by letting it drop whilst holding the top part of it and I saw that it was actually a red and silver embroidered one arm jacket.

Blood sprayed in dark arcs that caught the strange, too-bright moonlight and glittered like spilled ink. The Crimson Claw pack was smaller but fiercer, red-brown fur flashing like embers. They fought dirty: going for throats, hamstrings, eyes. One of them, a lean female with white streaks on her flanks, leapt onto the back of a Silverfang warrior and clamped her jaws around his neck. He thrashed, yelped once, went still.

I pick it up and run my fingers over the hard moon sigil pressed on the cover. “Interesting...” I mutter, opening to the first page. It simply lists: Goddess, Lycans, Witches, Bloodlines, and Hybrids. My pulse quickens. I flip through the pages, ignoring the ones that have been torn out clean. The writing is cramped and old-fashioned, talking about cursed beings. “The Crimson-born are not of the pack, nor of the coven. They are independent and choose where they wish to go. Forged in the silence between the first howl, the Goddess’s tears, and the first spell. With their pale skin comes eyes deeper than the stain of blood.”

Something dark and foul. Crimson felt it prowl closer to his head and a wave of hot putrid air hit him. He opened his eyes and that was when he saw it. He could hear the sky thundering which was odd because there had been zero indication of rain when he had gotten to that city. Slightly lifting his head, Crimson was then looking at what appeared to be feet. Human? The long and curved claws sticking out of raised and sturdy hairy limbs suggested otherwise. It was dark out. Crimson lifted his head a bit more and this motion seemed to have triggered whatever sort of monstrosity was probing him.

My heart beats quicker with every stride. The ground starts to vibrate. Suddenly, a deep growl echoes down the tube. Lena draws her dagger. “We’ve got company.” From the darkness ahead, brilliant red eyes appear one pair, then another, then more. Creatures with twisted bodies, half-wolf, half-shadow. They snarl and step forward. Ezra raises his workforce. “These are the Crimson Guardians. Corrupted protectors. Stay close to me.” They attack. I hardly have time to react as one of them leaps at me. I swerve to the side and swing, claws out, slashing across its shoulder. It howls and stumbles back.

Pack’s pack, Tess—strike, guard! The shard’s hum intensified, the amber runes flaring, the ground within the ring trembling, Crimsonborn wraiths rising from the frosted clay, their forms coalescing into shadowy, blood-frosted figures, their eyes glowing amber, their snarls a guttural echo, the air crackling with dark magic, the hollow’s wind howling louder, the pool’s ice cracking, the obsidian stones’ runes pulsing faster, the Crimsonborn’s whispers a deafening roar, the ancient power stirring, the Crimson Hollow a crucible for the pack’s fire, the battle for their legacy reaching a new chapter, the pale light dimming, the frost thickening, the scent of blood a chilling promise, the pack’s

John by the Moon Goddess herself—a gift that set them apart in both strength and reputation. Their distinguishing feature lay in their wolf claws, a striking midnight blue hue that held a formidable power. Any wolf wounded by the claws of a Nightclaw could not rely on their innate wolf healing to quicken the recovery process. This ability struck fear into the hearts of both rival packs and rogue wolves alike, cementing Nightclaw’s status as one of the most powerful packs in the region.

Silence swallowed the cavern. Then the ground exploded. A massive black claw burst through the stone floor. The impact sent everyone stumbling backward. Another claw followed, then another. The beast dragged itself from the darkness with a roar that made my blood run cold. It was enormous, twice the size of the First Wolf. Its body was covered in scales as black as midnight instead of fur. Jagged silver horns curved from its skull and its crimson eyes glowed with ancient hatred. Most terrifying of all, it had no pupils. Only endless red. The creature inhaled deeply, then its gaze locked onto me. "The Keeper..." Its voice sounded like rocks grinding together. "So the bloodline survived."

"Go on." The boys removed their masks one by one. "No way," "Boss?" "Adrian?" "Babe?" Zoe waved her hands in the air. "Wait a damn minute. So, let me get this straight, Chris, Jack, and Poet Wilder are Crimson Clan." "You can't forget about Apollo River, the Mafia King." Chris joked. "Oh no, we can't forget that." "And let me get this straight, Zoe Autumn, our Lead consultant. Sandra Pearl, our Corporate Broker. Nina Elizabeth, and Alicia Sun, our Ethical Hackers, are members of the most desired Ruby Tears."