Crimson Lancer Novels & Stories

Killian POV Unlike every usual day, the war room was colder and perhaps it was because of the tension in the air. The presence of Lucian made everywhere tensed. The moment Aria and I walked into the court room, our eyes matched and he held a smile on his face. Lucian was wearing a black and red cloak and it symbolize the colors of Crimson Pack. Perhaps he didn't come with anything threatening like I had thought after all. "Lucian." I said with a sharp voice to him. "You have got the audacity to walk into my pack after everything you did in the past?"

His black-red eyes are more red than black now. “I wasn’t commanding,” I said, taken aback. “I was just joking.” “I want you to quietly follow behind me. Not another word till we get to the castle.” He sternly said. We walked, Kent several inches ahead of me, and I talked. I told him about my oldest sister Crystal's mating ceremony.

Phoebe I had never set foot in Dark Crimson before, and the moment our car passed through its front gates, my whole body tensed. The pack house rose like a dark fortress—nothing like the elegant Silver Claw manor or the clean-lined designs of Thunder Bite. This place felt ancient, heavy… dominant. The building looked as if it had been carved from one giant block of obsidian, with deep red accents running along each pillar like dried blood. The Dark Crimson banner fluttered against the gray sky—black and red, marked by a crowned Lycan sigil.

The forest quaked under the weight of Lysandra’s army. Hundreds of soldiers formed a wall of black armor, their rune carved rifles glinting with cold blue light. The crimson banner bearing my stepmother’s crest swayed above their heads, cutting through the air like a wound. The moment felt unreal. Like the past and the future had collided on this single patch of Earth.

I spat, my sword raising higher. Before he could move, before the pack could descend, the forest shifted again. Crimson light bloomed, searing against the dark and the witches. They slid from the trees like shadows drenched in fire. Cloaks of scarlet flame hissed against the earth, their chanting voices humming low and terrible. At their center, the Crimson Seer stepped forward with her blind eyes glowing white. Gasps and snarls rippled through the wolves. The pack bristled, half-shifted forms growling at the encroaching witches.

The stands stretch high into the night sky, packed with thousands of students, alumni, fans—each one screaming for blood. Popcorn and body paint. Banners and thundersticks. This isn’t just a season opener. It’s a spectacle. And a home defeat? It’s not just unthinkable—it’s unforgivable. We are the Crimson Lions. Champions. Icons. The name that echoes across campuses from coast to coast. And Zane? Zane is the heartbeat. The headline. The one the crowd came to see.

The witches closed in, their laughter echoing like a chorus of nightmares. Something inside Aqua snapped. A surge of dark energy, unfamiliar and terrifying, welled up within her. She felt her pendant grow hot against her skin, the clear crystal turning black as smoke. The air around her crackled with raw power as she turned back towards the attackers, her fear morphing into a blinding rage.

* Tyler brought in warrior clothes for Crimson, she was brushing her hair when he entered, he collected the comb and gently started combing her hair. "Everything is ready, your horse, your clothes, your soldiers, and even you." Tyler said and smiled at her through the mirror, she turned to him. "It's like this is made newly coz it even have my name on it." Crimson replied. "Well, that's because I made it specially for you, this is your first ever war as the Luna of this pack, it have to be something really special right." Tyler said. "It's seem like you are anticipating for the war while I'm here feeling scared every minutes." Crimson replied.

He had known all along that their family was tied to something supernatural, something dangerous. The journal revealed the existence of a hidden society.—The Crimson Circle—a secretive group that operated in the shadows, monitoring supernatural activity and protecting the balance between realms. Her parents had been members, tasked with guarding a powerful artifact that kept the veil intact. But there was more. Lysandra flipped to a page where her father had drawn a detailed family tree. Her name was connected by a red line that spanned centuries. At the bottom of the page, her father had written: You are the last of the line, Lysandra. The prophecy is tied to you. When the time comes, you m

The Tournament was littered with possible 'crimson ones'. Of course, he could be completely wrong in his assumption, and what Madam Josefa actually meant was that he should beware the 'crimson one' because meeting him or her in a race meant he would owe them his life, not the other way around. When he found out that Zafir was his next opponent, a bad feeling settled into his gut. Of all the people in the whole Tournament, he was the one Colin had considered most likely to be the 'crimson one'--red hair, red suit, red wyvern--and also the most unlikely to need his help during the race (the newbie was a natural-born racer). Still, he kept his guard up, ready to either dive into action in case