Dark Moon: The Blood Altar Novels & Stories

I say hesitantly. “Sup dude? How’s life on the dark side?” Xane blurts out. “Don’t be a douchebag.” Donnie buts in. “It’s fine Donnie. Life couldn’t be worse, couldn’t be better.” I huff. “Cool.” Xane laughs. “Show him the mask for the game we are playing later!” Alex chuckles. “Sure. Plain white mask, black hoodie and Dead Man’s Woods. We’re going to play manhunt.” Donnie says with a smile.

Before he could react, her hand wrapped around his and a playful smile played on her face. “Thank you.” She said to him as she glanced at him with a smile on her face before staring ahead. “My pleasure,” Carl responded and his eyes darkened dangerously. … It was dark and the only sound that could be heard was that of the crickets and the rustling leaves that moved thanks to the wind. The atmosphere was quiet and it felt like the world had gone into eternal slumber as not even the sound of a human or animal could be heard. One would wonder if the grim reaper was passing by with his scythe, looking for a soul to harvest. The moon shone brightly, casting its bright light upon the deep darkness.

“Perfect.” As the wind picked up and the sky darkened above us, I turned back to the altar and pressed the jewel against the center of the relic. A faint hum began to rise, the air thick with anticipation. Soon, very soon, the forest would bleed. The Blood Moon Pack would fall to its knees. And I would rise. Dagna’s POV

"Then let this be the final chapter." She raised her hands. The altar shattered. ------ The blood moon rose like an omen, its crimson hue painting the clouds with a sickly glow. Far above the charred towers of Ember Hollow, it hung motionless—an eternal witness to the pain unraveling below. The city, once a cradle of sacred whispers and rebellion-born hope, now bore the stench of betrayal. From the shadows of its sacred places, vengeance slithered. The Elders had set their plan into motion.

Together, they came up with additional methods to obtain the blood they required, including the Red Cross, campus blood drives, and, where necessary, robbing a hospital's blood bank. Zachary's wife of almost forty years, Sarah, was a true free spirit. Her native to this country, bronzed skin was enhanced by her long, black hair that hung past her waist. Her eyes were still the original black color of a human; the silver of aging had not yet supplanted it. She was a newborn vampire.

We fought with every ounce of strength, our bodies moving in harmony with the magic coursing through our veins. As the tide of battle shifted, the remaining werewolves faltered, sensing their impending defeat. The alpha, his eyes burning with fury, let out a thunderous roar. The ground trembled beneath us as if echoing his rage. But just as victory seemed within reach, a bone-chilling howl pierced the night air. It was a sound that froze our blood, a haunting melody that resonated with primal power. From the darkness emerged a figure, towering and formidable. Malachi Ravenswood stood before us, his presence radiating malevolence. His eyes glowed with a sinister light, his lips curled into a

I answered. “I would use that ability and pay close attention to her scent. Since she is a dark angel, it is possible that your pup could be a rare metallic angel. It is written that the only other two documented dark angels gave birth to children that bore powers associated with metals. One was said to have wings that were golden in color and that the child was able to control all things made from gold. The other child was said to have wings that were dark grey but then faded to silver at the tips. This child could control multiple different metals.” Eivor explained.

The air around her crackled with raw power as she turned back towards the attackers, her fear morphing into a blinding rage. With a scream that seemed to shake the very foundations of the house, Aqua unleashed a torrent of dark magic. The energy exploded from her, a violent wave of force that knocked the witches off their feet. The room was bathed in a sinister glow as the dark magic tore through the intruders, their cries of pain mingling with the howling wind.

“I just need to survive.” Her mother pulled her into a hug, trembling. “You’re stronger than you think. Don’t let them break you, my child.” The door creaked open. Beta Hale, her father, stood at the threshold, his face grim. “They’re waiting,” he said quietly. “It’s time.” Ariana took one last breath, steadying herself. The scent of lavender and rain filled her lungs — the last familiar thing she would have before her world changed forever. The BloodMoon Hall was vast and ancient, its walls carved with runes older than the pack itself. Torches burned blue fire along the stone pillars, casting strange shadows on the floor. At the far end, beneath the grand crest of the Moon Goddess, stood Al

Isabella lay awake long after the house had fallen silent. The only sound was the soft rhythm of rain tapping against the window, a steady beat that matched the relentless pulse in her chest. Darkness wrapped around her like a suffocating cloak, heavier than any noise she could hear. Her mind refused to rest. Every thought seemed to collide with another — a storm of fear, doubt, and something stubbornly fierce that refused to be silenced. She was trapped. Trapped between worlds she didn’t belong to — the cold, dangerous realm of the Moretti family, and the fading shadows of the life she once knew. Neither felt like home anymore.