Novel & Cerita Dark Moon: The Blood Of Vargr

The girls had chosen this spot for its energy—a natural convergence point where the earth’s magic pooled like water. Freda lit the black candles with a whispered word, their flames burning unnaturally blue. Pru scattered a circle of salt mixed with crushed obsidian, the grains glittering like crushed stars. Rita laid out the parchment—yellowed with age, borrowed from Gogo’s private stash—and the silver dagger, its blade etched with runes. "Ready?" Freda asked. Rita nodded. Pru grinned.

Then the air shifted. The scent—thicker, like iron and earth. And something else. Luna raised a hand, halting them. "They're here." From the shadows, eyes blinked open—green, glowing, feral. Shapes emerged, hunched and snarling, their forms wrong, as if wolves had been stitched together with nightmares. Draugr. The largest of them stepped forward, maw dripping with shadow, a twisted crown of bone atop its head. It spoke, its voice a growl laced with dark magic. "The Blood Witch summons the Alpha Queen. Come willing, or come broken."

Per lunam plenam et solem ardentem, Per ventos quattuor et aquas currentem, Maneo te captivum, maneo te clausum, Donec ego liberem te aut mors te rapiat. Sic volo, sic iubeo, sic fiat. {Translation:} I bind you, dark spirit, With chains of silver and hard iron. By blood, by bones, by earth, I confine you in eternal prison. No way of escape is given to you, No door opens, no hope is saved. An invisible wall surrounds you, Your power is now bound and falls. By the full moon and burning sun, By the four winds and flowing waters,I keep you captive, I keep you closed, Until I free you or death takes you.

"And I will never be yours." Ronan’s smile widened, revealing teeth that were already beginning to sharpen. "That’s the fire. I can smell it. It’s delicious. You think you’re fighting for Zayden, but you’re just stoking the flames for me." He stood up and walked to the wall, pulling a heavy lever. A grinding sound of stone on stone echoed through the chamber, and the ceiling began to retract. Above us, the sky was no longer grey. It was a bruised, terrifying shade of violet, and the moon—the Blood Moon—was rising, a massive, crimson eye staring down at us.

I wouldn’t let them do it again. “I need a minute,” I said, standing up slowly. “Stay here. I have to check something important.” I walked out of the study and closed the door softly behind me. The hallway felt too narrow, too quiet. My boots hit the stone floor hard as I paced back and forth, fists clenched tight at my sides. Caius Dren. The name tasted like blood and ash in my mouth. He had killed Lyra Ardenne in cold blood during her own awakening ritual. He had tried to kill Sable too. And now she was here, under my roof, carrying that same ancient power that was fighting to break free.

POV DARLENE The moment Jackson’s hand—slick with the grey, dying blood of a fallen Alpha—pressed against the violet rune on my palm, the Infinite Night screamed. It wasn't a sound of air or vibration; it was the sound of logic being torn apart. The contract that had bound my son to the Weaver and the First Alpha was a binary law: Shadow or Light. But we had just introduced a third variable: the Grey. The blood of the Sun-Walker, the Blood of the Frost-Guard, and the shamed Blood of the Silver Moon met in a single point of contact.

The moon shone down like an indifferent witness to the massacre. At the center of it all stood Grand Magestress Eloria, robes torn and stained with soot, her braid undone and clinging to her blood-streaked face. Alder stood several paces behind her, steady but shaken, staring at the destruction with wide eyes. And beside them… something far darker. Varek. Or rather—the thing now wearing Varek. His body trembled as the possession pulsed within him, crimson light bleeding through his veins like molten fire beneath cracked skin. His eyes no longer held a wolf’s fury—they glowed with something ancient. Something monstrous. Something that did not belong to this world.

she whispered, her voice breaking through the god’s grip for a split second. Vaelor roared in rage, using Lyra’s mouth as his vessel. “SHE IS MINE! I WILL NOT RELEASE HER!” The sky darkened further as the blood moon seemed to bleed across the heavens, raining crimson sparks down on the earth. Wolves below scrambled to avoid falling debris, their howls of fear underscoring the gravity of the moment. Iris drew a deep breath, summoning every ounce of power left in her mortal form. “Then you leave me no choice.”

I could almost feel Dante’s presence—alive, dangerous. Another rumble—this time from the sky. A crack formed overhead, red light leaking through. He was coming. Half-Seen Horror A figure stepped into view. Dante. Dark robes, blood caked to his palm. His eyes glowed with crimson triumph. “You brought moonlight to death,” he said. “Your end.” He laughed—a sound bone-deep, terrible. He raised his hand. Blood magic bloomed. From the ground, the dust rose—hundreds of skeletal wolves—Dante’s army, reborn.

“She wrote it once. Just once. ‘If Nytheras stirs, the moon’s light will falter.’ I never knew what it meant.” Grayson frowned. “Is it a creature?” I turned the page. There were drawings—vague outlines of something massive, its form shifting between wolf, shadow, and something serpentine. The script beneath was jagged and rushed, as if the scribe had written it in panic. Nytheras, the Forgotten. The Wolf Before the First Moon. The One Who Devours Spirits. I read aloud as my voice trembled. “Bound beneath the Black Gorge. Fed by blood. Summoned by betrayal and vengeance. Immune to claw or fang. Can only be silenced by the Moon’s Flame.”