Dark Moon: The Blood Of Vargr Novels & Stories

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."

"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.

AS THE blood moon rose above the skies of Darantha, painting the world below it in crimson light, the surge of demonic energy was also at its peak. Far from the vibrant Imperial City of Amros, under the ancient ruins in the underground cave in the southern part of Zolheim, it trembled with the echo of forbidden dark magic.

And for a moment I couldn't tell if the red was the stone or the afterimage of the nightmare still burning in my vision. Valtherion was awake. Of course he was. The bond would have screamed at him the moment the terror spiked. "Another nightmare?" I looked at him. The love that held the darkness at bay. I was done pretending. "It's not a nightmare, Valtherion." I steadied my voice. "It's Malachar. The Blood Moon Cult leader. He's reaching me through the shadow bloodline, through my dreams." Valtherion went still. The kind of stillness that preceded action.

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.”

“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.”

Only Varkor remained standing. His hatred burned brighter than ever. "The trials are meaningless!" "I will destroy all of you!" He opened his jaws. A colossal torrent of Blood Flame rushed toward us. Lyra lifted the Moon Crown. I raised the Blade of Kings. Our powers became one. Silver. Gold. Moonlight. First Light. The combined energy burst forward, colliding with Varkor's attack in an explosion that shook the heavens. The sky split apart. Clouds scattered in every direction. For one breathtaking moment...