Novel & Cerita Dark Moon The Blood Altar

He stands to leave. At the door, he pauses. "I will check on you later," he says over his shoulder. After he leaves, I move to the desk and pull the curtains open. A majestic view fills my sight. I see a massive ancient castle-like structure rising from the mountainside. It looks like a kingdom, or a prison. On the desk before me lies a document. Rules and Regulations for Maya Reynolds. I sigh. I open the first page. I have so many questions. And what the hell is a Bloodmoon Pack?

Closer this time. Time was running out. The Blood Altar was older than the Court. Carved from a single black stone, stained red with centuries of blood. It sat in a cavern under the three moons. No roof. Just sky and stars and judgment. Valen stood beside it, bone crown gleaming. Nyra stood on his left. Elena’s shadow lingered on Luna’s right, even though she was 100 miles away in Blackwood. “Ready?” Valen asked Luna. Luna looked at Damian. He nodded once.

The violet light hits the crimson beam of the blood moon, creating a terrifying, pulsing vortex of dark magic directly above the altar. ​The moth-fae begin to chant. It is a horrible, high-pitched clicking and hissing that makes my ears physically bleed. The glade-vein begins to aggressively shake. The bedrock of the mountain groans in agony. ​Deep within the earth, something ancient, colossal, and completely starved begins to wake up.

“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

"Alpha death. Luna blood. Mass sacrifice. I have everything I need." The platform was soaked with blood from the fallen warriors. Death magic hung heavy in the air. Arlene smashed the vials. Damoew's stasis-blood poured out, mixing with the fresh death. Dark magic erupted. Darker than before. Stronger. The ground beneath the platform cracked open. And from below, ancient power answered. The Lycan Vault was opening.

The air hung heavy with the coppery bite of old blood from sacrifices long past, mingled with the acrid smoke of burning sage and the sweet, cloying rot of moonflower petals I'd harvested myself under a waning gibbous two nights ago. The Blood Moon's crimson light seeped through a jagged vent overhead, bathing everything in a hellish glow that made the shadows dance like eager demons. At the chamber's heart stood the altar—a hulking slab of obsidian hauled from sacred pack caves, its surface carved deep with interlocking runes: circles for binding, spirals for siphoning, claws for extraction, all glowing faintly as if alive, etched by my own hand with a silver blade dipped in alpha blood.

Valeborne’s clawed hand pierced through the ceiling, seizing a wavering alpha and crushing him to ash. “Swear now,” the god thundered, “or suffer.” Terrified, one by one, the wolves knelt before Lyra. Aiden gritted his teeth, his voice low. “We’re out of time.” Damon’s crimson eyes burned like coals. “Then we do this the hard way.” He unleashed a wave of shadow magic, sending half the hall sprawling. Aiden’s light clashed with Damon’s darkness, forming a brilliant vortex that engulfed the altar. The Crown of Shadows cracked, sending shards of midnight flying.

The night was still, but there was a sharpness to the air that made the hairs on Isabella’s arms lift. Two men stepped out from the shadows, blocking their path. Both wore dark hoodies, and each held a knife glinting faintly under the streetlight. “Your luck runs out here, Moretti,” one of them said. Before Isabella could react, Matteo’s body shifted — not in panic, but with a predator’s precision. The first man lunged, and Matteo caught his wrist, twisting it sharply until the knife clattered to the ground. He struck him in the ribs with a brutal efficiency that sent the man staggering back.

Prince Evan butt in. "The mountain spirit said there's a bordello in the small community beyond this forest. There, we will find a man named Orion. We can ask him about a wine called Blood of the Wise. That is what we need to please the magical healer." "But wait. Bordello?" My brows furrowed when I realized what word was used. "Oh. Sounds like a good place." Prince Evan smirked. He exactly knows what to expect in that kind of place. Probably because he's a regular or what.

My sister spoke before I could ask how he knew we had grown up as rogues. “You know, Alpha Lucas, I would have thought you would recognize us. Your mate is the reason our mother is dead.” I snarled. “What accusation are you trying to make, exactly?” “Of course, the high and mighty Alpha would forget about us. Don’t you remember the she-wolf and her children that you took in? The unborn daughter you abandoned?” I pressed. “Adam?” Lucas gasped. “In the flesh, Alpha, and this is your daughter. Lizzy Devereaux, rightful Alpha of the Dark Moon pack.” I smirked, satisfied with the shock written across his face.