Crimson Stone Novels & Stories

CRIMSON “Do you know the story of the bloody werewolf rogue that was killed by his alpha? Do you know about that rogue that was hated by all of his pack and all the other packs that no one wanted him at all? Are you familiar with the story, child?” an old woman asked me while giving me a serene smile on her lips.

Without protection, a vampire could compel any human close to me and I could be compelled, too. Raven closed her eyes as she held my hand and extended her other hand over the stones. "Siramacha brenach bondagia compage, siramacha brenach bondagia compage, siramacha brenach bondagia compage." She opened her eyes, clearly drained. She reached down and picked up one of the stones, placed it in my hand, then curled my fingers around it. "Make sure to carry this with you at all times." I nodded and looked down at the stone. I could definitely see why it was called Bloodstone. It looked like blood had been splashed into a sea of green, then frozen into a stone.

His weapon was drawn as he looked into the eyes of Lizzie. “Back off, if you want to stay alive. You will listen to me,” Mason hissed at her, but she snapped at him. “That’s your mistake, Wolf, because I am not alive. My soul is tied with My master and you can’t kill any of us.” her voice was cruel. “Indeed, but who said I want to kill you? I would just trap your soul in the Crimson stone.” Mason smirked at her. Lizzie’s eyes went wide when she heard that. Crimson stone was used to store demon energies and it was called a prison for souls. Not many souls could survive inside it and many just scattered in the various parts, makin

“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

Ciel continued. “If they stand behind you, protect them. If they stand beside you, respect them, and if they stand against you, defeat them." Jarvis proceeded. Kaizen slowly approached her; he hooked a hand under her chin and lifted her face to look him in the eyes. Brown met Crimson. “Always remember this, Roxanne.” “What?” She whispered. “A queen will always turn pain into power.”

Morgan interjects taking over the conversation. She didn’t seem like a leader, but everyone listened to her with intent and at that moment she was the most important person in the room. “The blood of Crimson, Mathias, Zane, and myself should work in regard to creating the stone…” I cut the white witch off knowing she had it wrong. I don’t know how I knew but a voice spoke to me, and images showed me. “No. King Crimson, Finns, a small boy, and Petra’s blood will create the stone.” I speak.

It was like a voice whispering at the edge of her mind, promising ruin. Yoona raised her hands, whispering an incantation in a language so old it vibrated through the air like thunder beneath the skin. The runes flared and then dimmed, the wall dissolving into mist. The three of them stepped through. The chamber was vast and suffocating, lit by a dozen black candles whose flames burned blue instead of gold. At the center of the room, on a pedestal carved from obsidian, lay the Bloodstone , a jagged crystal, glowing with a sinister, pulsing red. Beside it, resting on black velvet, gleamed a silver dagger etched with runes that seemed to crawl when stared at too long.

Because I did not know what else to do, I took it and he led me forward until I could have sworn we were directly under the moon, then he brought out his claws. I flinched slightly, but did not run, there was some kind of power stronger than myself holding me in place, bending my will to his. His eyes were more silver than blue now, and I shivered in fear as he stepped closer to me. With a single claw, he traced the delicate pulse on my neck, and I sucked in a breath as he pushed his claw harder, hurting me, drawing blood.

“But I’m not letting some ghost in lipstick steal my kill and walk away like a fucking legend.” I stood, crushing the cigarette under my heel. Amara Voss. The Revenant. I didn’t care if she was a myth, monster, or martyr. I would find her. And if she wanted war, I’d give her one she’d never forget.

The candles went out. Author’s Note - The Crimson Veil began as a late-night idea about what might happen if logic met temptation in its purest, most dangerous form. Evelyn’s curiosity is my own: the need to understand what we fear, even when it leads us somewhere we can’t easily return from. This story mixes gothic atmosphere, mystery, and forbidden connection—a slow burn between intellect and instinct. Every chapter was written and refined by hand, inspired by old literature and the darker side of human emotion.