Crimson Lancer Novels & Stories

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

That he will finally take over like he always wished? The man takes a deep breath in before he points at me. “The God of Death is called Arawn! You got the name all wrong! And why would you be a big-ass damned dragon for that matter?! That makes no sense! This is some stupid daydream and I am going to wake up at any moment!” Oh. I guess I should have realised.

Caroline, a she-wolf who has been considered a monster since she was a child, can she break the tragedy spell and find her MATE?

"Did the Turnbulls kill my parents?" "Straight to it, eh? All right." Alaric combed back his hair. "The truth is, I don't know. There was a battle between two opposing factions in Crimson Blood, which was known as Crimson Moon pack at the time. I don't know how Darien came to be Alpha, but what I do know is that a large group of us rebuilt Crimson Blood almost from nothing after the battle." "How old were you?"

"Thank you!" Secretary Carmen waved to Clara and went off. Clara saw her get into the official car and the driver led the car away. She closed the door behind her and opened the employment letter, her name was written boldly on it as a registered employee of CRUZ enterprise. Clara couldn't contain the excitement, so she called Ella who was still at work. "It's here!" Clara said. "What's here?" Ella asked. "My employment letter, it's here!" "Oh, my sweet potatoes! I will be home in some minutes' time. So wait for me!" Ella said and cut the call.

Still, it was enough to show other creatures that we werewolves weren't someone to be messed with. We also invited the Bloody Fangs. The Bloody Fangs was a group of strongest warriors without any ties to the 3 packs. Their most well-known warrior was their leader, The Crimson Warrior, who was also the most blood-lust warrior in the whole Lupo continent. His nickname came from the crimson helmet he kept wearing as he fought. I had heard that the Crimson Warrior himself would attend my ceremony. That made me wonder if he would wear his helmet or not. After all, no one had ever seen his face.

I watch our blood mix together and, though it is a dark crimson color, there is a purple and blue shimmer to it, the same color that glows from our wolves’ fur under the moonlight. “I Lucas Anthony Fields pledge my loyalty, my service, and my life to you, Alpha Darius Colt Barnett, and to you Alpha Luna Diamond Joy Stone.” Lucas takes the chalice and drinks from it. His hazel eyes glow a bright gold when normally, they are his wolf’s yellow. Before I can say anything, Aurelian takes the chalice.

“This doesn’t feel like King Brad’s command. This feels different.” A terrible, suffocating silence descended over the clearing as the Lycans finally emerged into full, terrifying view, rows upon rows of hulking, powerful warriors, their forms massive and imposing, their silver-tipped fangs gleaming menacingly beneath the indifferent moonlight. Their collective presence was overwhelming, a suffocating force that pressed down on the very air, promising only utter devastation. And then, emerging from their disciplined ranks like a storm given sentient form, was the Crown Prince himself.

I killed for control. ****** The lower levels stank of concrete dust and old war. These halls hadn’t seen light in years—used only for emergencies and bloodshed. Aleksander, Damir, and I moved like wolves, guns raised, sweeping each corner with surgical focus. “Heat signatures—six bodies, northeast access corridor,” Damir whispered, peering through the thermal scope. Then he paused. “Wait... one’s smaller.” I didn’t breathe. My heart clenched. Luca. We advanced like death. Silent. Unforgiving.