Dark Moon The Blood Altar Novels & Stories

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?

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.

“That’s officially creepy.” “The ring is here,” Lucien murmured. “She sealed it inside.” “How do we open it?” “Blood.” “Of course it’s blood,” I muttered. “It’s always blood. Nobody ever tries passwords.” He turned to me, eyes glowing faintly. “You opened our tomb. You woke me. She listens to you.” I blinked. “She likes me because I didn’t scream. That’s not consent, it’s pity.” He extended his hand. “Lend me your blood, Miss Hale.”

His majestic and divine power in the palm of his hand, followed by the loud shattering of the palm of his hand, caused the immense Blood Altar Area to tremble violently. Deep in the ground, in the middle of nowhere, the Blood Altar Area's crystal cores actually flowed out in a never-before-seen splendor. Like a candle burning in the wind, swaying slightly, it is difficult to control oneself. Unsurpassed heavenly demon killing and punishing great art, unleashing the star sea, sweeping across hundreds of thousands of worlds. Haunt Uncle's brows were slightly wrinkled, his tricks suddenly shook, the blade did not fly, and reversed Tadhg Walter's extremely hard left hand.

I crept like a shadow and slid my ear to the seam. The altar was a stone slab rimed with runes that pulsed like a sleeping heart. A vampire knelt before it, lips moving in rhythm, while rogues struck their marks with dull blades, and bound animals whined. The altar drank sound and light and scraped it into a boiling pool of magic that shimmered a faint sickly green. “You will bleed a blessing and a curse into this,” the vampire intoned, his voice like velvet over iron. “The Eclipse — he will hold the Moonfire. The line will be his.”

“It was buried beneath the roots of the Hollow Tree. Beside an old altar—an altar soaked in Alpha blood.” “What does that mean?” “It means Damon isn’t just trying to reclaim you, Elara. He’s trying to finish what your bloodline started centuries ago. A Blood Moon Pact. A ritual older than the packs themselves. If he completes it using the Luna Star and your blood—he becomes something else entirely. Not Alpha. Not wolf. Something worse.” I stared at the dagger, heart pounding. “And he needs me to do it.” “Yes.” Night crept in like a shadow with teeth.

My name is Elora and I reside at the Blue Mountain Packhouse. I have a slim figure, long curly blonde hair which I usually wear up in a bun so it is out of my face. My eyes are a deep blue which I love. I am not a normal girl though. You see I am a shewolf, my rank at the packhouse is an omega. I don’t know my parents because they passed away when I was just a tiny baby, so I don’t have any memories of them. The only thing I have is a necklace locket from my mother. I have never taken it off because it makes me feel close to her spirit.

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.

Isabella whispered as she stood just behind him. His gaze stayed on the table as he spoke. “Because you need to see how things work. Money changes hands, words are exchanged, alliances are made. The deals made in rooms like this decide who lives and who doesn’t.” The game was quiet, punctuated by the soft clink of chips and murmured bets. Matteo played without rushing, his expression unreadable. When the game ended, he gathered his winnings, rose, and led her toward the side exit. The alley outside was wet from earlier rain, the smell of asphalt rising from the ground. The night was still, but there was a sharpness to the air that made the hairs on Isabella’s arms lift.