Crimson Lions Novels & Stories

The bond was tugging harder now, stronger, impossible to resist. The square was a wild, chaotic celebration of joy, laughter, and love. Mates were finding each other under the crimson light, their howls of unity echoing across the pack lands. My wolf clawed at me, restless and demanding, urging me to find her. And then I saw her.

And those cold gray eyes locked right on me. I didn’t stop. Didn’t blink. Just walked straight to him, like I wasn’t scared of a damn thing. “Good morning, Lion Dickhead,” I said sweetly, like sugar coated in poison. His lips twitched, almost a smile. Bastard. “Team,” he said, ignoring my insult. “Meet The Revenant. The ghost that makes grown men cry. The reason half of Mexico sleeps with a gun under their pillow.” All eyes turned to me. I saw it right away, the doubt in their faces shifting to realization. Then fear. Good.

He had used only half of his strength in that water dragon, but most Chrysopoeia Graders had struggled to counter or tank that attack. "Unfortunately, you still made the mistake of pissing us off. You people are descendants of us—we left when Earth's mystique energy was depleted and left you inferior creatures out of our mercy. And now you're challenging us, your true elders and ancestors?! Imprudence!" He summoned 80% of his power and shot it out of him. It became a tidal wave threatening to swallow Logan whole. Crimson Guardian was the fiercest fighter of the Crimson Order, second only to the leader. Even Violet Venerable and Lady Selene would rather avoid this attack than to face it head-

Arnold shouted. I knew he's right. Every killer in Crimson pack has been carefully selected. They have been put into a group of thirty people in a killer camp for training since they were little wolves. When they are close to adulthood, the Crimson pack will let them fight each other until there are only ten people left, and these ten people can truly become warriors. My eyes were fixed on the eight muscular massive wolves in front of me. They were truly killing machines. "Kylian!" I shouted through mindlink.

“I was already doing it, you did not have to yank it off me!” Lev says nothing. His rough hand pushes the heavy door open wide. Then he shoves me hard inside. I stumble. Yelp. The box is small. Dark red walls. Two soft chairs. A low table with a bottle and one glass. Half full. Blood red liquid. And a man. His back is to me. Shirtless. Skin pale like snow. Tattoos cover every inch. Black ink. Wolves. Knives. Skulls. Snowflakes. In the middle, huge, the Morozov crest. The same wolf.

“The Crimson wolves have always been in the FireHeart pack, because their flames and uniqueness comes from the same flames that emanate from the crimson throne.” “Can I ask a question, Doctor?” Minister Blackthorn asked suddenly. “You may.” “You spoke about survival of the fittest, how sure are you that the crimson rogue we showed you is not actually a crimson wolf but a generated one?” “The eyes,” Doctor Monroe said, his smile stretching. “The eyes never lie. A crimson wolf is made crimson because of its distinctive red color. This distinctive color is shown both on the fur, the eyes and hair. They have a characteristic pale white skin like snow. That is the characteristic of a crimson. If

She smiled, “her wolf is one that needs a strong human, not just anyone can control Crimson.” My eyes darted to her and then back to the road, “Crimson, as in blood, fire and brimstone, that type of Crimson?” She sat up straight, “why would you think like that and not that it is just the color red.” I shrugged, “Angel remember, I always think that type of stuff first,” I gave her a shy smile. She nodded, “it doesn’t matter, Crimson is gone with her, unless she is now with someone who didn’t have a wolf.”

Back at the Beast Hall's Book Collection Vault in Desolate Grounds city, there was an ancient text that had spoken about the Blazing Overlord Lions. These lions were just like other lions, only that their bloodline were extremely peculiar. Unlike normal lions, the Blazing Overlord Lions had a scorching orange flame as fur. They also had the dragon bloodline mixed with theirs, and as such, if they claimed to be second strongest in the animal kingdom of their cultivation realm, then no animal would dare claim to be first.

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.”

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.