Crimson Rain Sought Flower Novels & Stories

Just then, a cool breeze blew, making the flowers shake in response and I heard his voice echo in my mind. 'There's something with the wind, the way it rustles by, caressing the flowers...' Just then, I heard someone beckon on me.

"You want hunger? Feed on this." I closed my eyes. I let the day pour out — not as grief, as fuel. The anger at Selene's poison, the protectiveness toward Mason, the calculation in Riven's crimson gaze, the clinical hunger in Aurel's blue eyes. The refusal to be nothing. The absolute zero of composure that had carried me through the seminar and the refectory and the corridor. I let it all flow toward the rose. Not asking. Offering. The flower pulsed. Faint at first, then stronger. An iridescent light that wasn't violet, wasn't black, but something between — the color of bruises and midnight and power that didn't bother with names.

I was foolish enough to think that as long as Anya was safe, I would tolerate Freya and Liam from thereon. "But you never picked up, not even once! Do you have any idea how much it hurt for me to see Anya drawing her last breath in my arms?" Ack! Lucas was so heartbroken that he suddenly coughed up a mouthful of blood. As his tears were mixed with blood and trickled down the side of his cheeks, he was drowned by an immense sheet of sorrow and pain. He knew Cassiopeia would never forgive him. Even he had trouble forgiving himself for what he had done.

It was as good a place as any to start working up that friendship Max had wanted. Putting all my focus on this task, I removed the dead things, burning them into a crisp to avoid wastage, then I brought forth some bulbs from the underworld. Planting them into the pot, I then used my powers to bring forth some water from outside, and used it to give life to the soil and bulbs. Within moments, and thanks to my powers, the pot was soon alive with several fire-red and yellow Chrysanthemum flowers. Admiring my work, I nodded. Max would have to appreciate this.

Crimson frowned, she was dealing with the bowl they used to mixed the ingredients and Forest wondered why she spoke of their uncle. Crimson quietly stomped Forest's foot and looked at her in the eye, giving her a sign that if she spoke another word it would give Blanche a clue. "What do you mean? He was busy with the organization." Crimson replied, avoiding Blanche's gaze. "Why did you asked that, Blanche?" Forest said, which made Crimson halt on her stance, but unlike the first time, she didn't stop her twin from prying. Blanche gave a little smile, she put her hands together and sheepishly said, "it wasn't a gift, but I believe Noir gave me one."

Suddenly, Miren's voice transformed into a song about the manipulation of the soul and the destruction of life. "The most gentle and lovely people in the world are responsible for creating the stunning irises that are known as the flowers of death. This intoxicating and alluring aroma is wrapping its arms around your broken heart. Those with feeble and pitiful hearts are looking for support for their unsteady hearts wherever they can find it. The blood that is currently flowing through you is beginning to heat up gradually. The moans of the dying are trying to bring your attention back to the reality of the situation. This harsh reality world no longer has anything that can stop you from mov

“He won’t love you, Isabelle. He doesn’t know what love is.” Crimson rain dripped onto my face from the hole in the ceiling. I looked up to the sky. Loretta’s ritual had begun. “Don’t ignore me,” hissed Isabelle. “I am still your queen.” “I will deal with you later,” I told her. Then I flew up through the hole Salem had made, to stop him while I still could. Above me, a crimson storm was forming. Red clouds mingled with the black. Red rain fell onto the Uncivil in the streets and alleys below. As it touched them, something in their manner changed.

The sun’s beaming rays of sunlight shone through the empty spaces between the leaves of trees and bathes the flowers with its warmth. The flowers were beaming their vibrant colors, as droplets of water from the morning sun’s dew made them shine, a spectacular view were to be seen indeed. “If you were still alive, brother. Wouldn’t we make a garden as beautiful as this? A pavilion in the center, a small river down the creek, a small bridge leading to that pavilion. If you were still alive, what would we be today?” Crystal mumbled to herself, a sigh leaving her lips as her delicate fingers touched the flower’s petals, the morning dew sticking onto her finger like a bug, the warm drops of water

The night sky crept and there are no stars shining bright to make the night pretty, as the showers of rain fell from the heavy clouds. The wind is unusually chilling and the crickets are chirping. The frogs are singing due to the wet surrounding. "We will. We must go inside, it's starting to rain." Carl weakly invited the Sheriff and the other Officer. They got inside and Amy readied them something to eat and lead them to the dining room. "Thank you for your time and for visiting us. I really hope that the robbers will get caught." Amy uttered as they sat on each chair of the room.

At once, a powerful wave of energy filled the space. "Crimson Bloom Wipeout…" The next second, the words left Granny Rafflesia's lips coldly. As the words rang through the air, the air in front or her began to constrict and rip apart before showers of brightly-colored flower petals began to appear in mid-air.