Crimson Moth Series Novels & Stories

“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

I laugh. In one quick swoop I slice his throat and stab him over and over again. The anger, the rage! It is all being released from this. I stop. I walk back over to Xane. He was already dead but slicing his throat isn’t good enough. I grab him by his hair and carve a Chelsea Grin onto his face. “Since it was your p… plan to b…burn me you can’t… twin with m… me!” I splutter. I stand up. I walk away with no emotion to find a hiding place.

Out of them, a specific myth caught my attention. An enchanted heart-shaped Alexandrite gemstone, popularly known as ‘Alexart’ turns into red color in the presence of vampires, green in the presence of shapeshifters and blue in the presence of other evil forces. It is so rare that only 5 stones were ever made. Out of which 2 have already been destroyed. No one knows where the other three Alexarts are. I burst into laughter at my foolishness. What was I doing? Why was I being so immature? I was a science student for god’s sake. What was the probability that these gemstones exist? Even if they did, why would one of them be around my neck?

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

I picture him outside in the snow, coat collar up, not looking back. My chest hurts. He was supposed to protect me, not trade me like a bag of coins. I feel small, alone, cold without his hand, even if that hand only ever hurt. We stop in front of one box. A small lamp on the wall gives dim yellow light. I look at the door. My breath catches in my throat. A crest is carved deep in the wood. Black wolf. Snow around its paws. Stars above its head. The Morozov crest. Even a child knows it. Even I know it.

“But I’m sensing that you know more about it than what you’re leading on about, “April G said. “I’m afraid you are quite right. I know all too well how horrific crimson moon is and how it can spell each of your demises if you are not properly prepared for it. What do you mean? “June asked. “What’s so bad about this crimson moon crap? “ “You remember when I told you that your father is coming after each of you? “Hughley asked. “During Crimson moon, the barriers between this world and the supernatural world will be at their weakest and it will allow your father to enter our world at his full power. If he can accomplish one horrible sacrifice,” “Well, what would that be? “Madison asked. “For hi

The council meeting begins tense. Eight alphas, their betas, and our core team pack into the war room. The Crimson Moon banner lies spread across the table like an accusation. Its bloody words stare back at us: We didn’t take your son. But we know who did. “This is a trick,” Roderic, Alpha of Silverpine, one of our steadier allies, says. “Crimson Moon wants us paranoid. Divided.” “Maybe,” I answer, keeping my voice even. “Or perhaps they are telling the truth.”

Chapter 23 ‎One year later – The Night of the Crimson Eclipse ‎ ‎Talia’s POV ‎ ‎The sky bled red above Moonshadow, deeper and more violent than any blood moon before. Tonight was the Crimson Eclipse, the rare alignment foretold in the oldest Lycan scrolls: when the moon turned its back on the sun and the veil between worlds thinned to nothing. ‎

__ By noon, the Silverwood estate writhed with activity. Banners snapped in the bitter wind, each printed with the sigils of clans whose names are centuries old. It was the special day of the Crimson Ceremony, when the Blood-moon shines the brightest. Deimon sat enthroned in his manor's council room, conducting what he'd labeled a "casual meeting" with his Blood-Moon Scion. Casual, as if anything involving werewolf politics could be casual. As tradition demanded, the Scion appeared in ceremonial attire—ancient furs and woven silver threads . Deimon, naturally, was an exception. He despised the old ways the way fire despises rain.

Crimson took a deep breath, wiped her palms on her skirt and entered the clearing. As soon as she stepped out of the Labyrinth, and into the moonlight, the forest went completely quiet; not an owl, not a cricket. She shivered with the power of the place. Crimson made a conscious effort to breath as she peered into the trees hoping to get a bit of a warning as to the Dragon's approach. She heard a rustling of leaves off to the right. She whipped around to see... nothing there. She thought she saw a shadow pass between two trees, but perhaps it was only the wind moving the branches. Her fear was mounting. She thought of running, but realized that there really was no life to go back to. There!