Novel & Cerita Friendship Crest

“But before I tell you who, I need a promise. I need to know I’ll be allowed to stay in the pack as long as I want.” He looked at me for a long moment, then slowly walked back to his desk, shuffling through some drawers. My confusion grew as he rummaged around before finally pulling something out. He approached me again, and this time, my eyes betrayed me by lingering on his bare collarbones for just a second too long. He placed a small object in my hand. I looked down to see it was a crest, something finely made. “What’s this for?” “It’s a promise,” he said simply. “The pack crest. Not for members, but you can have it. As long as you hold onto it, you won’t have any trouble.”

The silver crest that once bound the packs now lay shattered at its base, its fragments gleaming faintly under the morning sun. He stepped forward. “Then let’s give them one.” ***************************** By midday, the courtyard had filled with wolves, some wounded, some trembling, all bearing the marks of the long night. They formed a wide circle around the dais, silent and watchful. I stood beside Kael as Storm and Milo flanked us. The ashes from the pyre had been swept aside, replaced by a simple silver banner bearing the mark of the Crescent Moon, Kael’s lineage, and now, mine.

Soon as he landed, he marched straight to the Commission and slapped down a new crest design. The old one? Just an eagle. Now? Same eagle, but with Anna's orchid—her favorite—blooming from its head. "From today on, the Ferrante Family crest changes." The elder blinked. "Don, that needs a vote... no one's ever put a flower on a crest." "I'll handle my Family." Shaken, the elder clenched his jaw and took the design to the forge. Leon? He dropped ten mil on a pink diamond and had it set into a ring.

“This did not come from her mother. The seal was forged. Someone tried to lure Luna Nyra out of the fortress.” Nyra turned toward him, confusion mixing with fear. “Who?” Cassian glanced at me before answering. “We do not know yet. But the messenger carried this.” He placed a small metal crest on the table. An ancient symbol etched into silver. A crescent moon intertwined with thorns. Recognition slammed into me. I had seen that crest only in old archives. Nyra noticed my reaction. She stepped closer, her voice urgent. “You know that symbol.” I remained silent at first, weighing how much to reveal. She pressed anyway. “What does it mean?”

A smile paints onto my face as I answer. "Yes, I'm alive." I say, laughing into the phone. "I had to call and make sure." Dionne says, laughing back. "Did you make sure to get your tattoo the other day?" she asks. "Yeah, it's already healed up pretty well." I say feeling behind my ear. I had to get a tattoo of the mafia crest to signify my place in the mafia. Dionne did the same in the same place to let it be known that she mine and that she's the Queen. Once our children turn seventeen, they'll get one too, in the same place. Everyone else who isn't a Foster by blood has the same tattoo on their wrists. If it fades, we get it filled. Just a mark of loyalty is all.

I wouldn’t even want to be friends with someone like that, who looks down on people who don’t live according to the conventional 9-5 life. Anyway, who the hell is he to tell me I’m still finding my way? I’m living fabulously doing what I love, pursuing my PhD, and earning great money from my multiple income sources. What’s it to him that I don’t have a “real job”? The more I thought about it, the more angry I became. I decide to blast some music and get to work on my latest restoration project currently overtaking my dining room to take my mind off my stupid arrogant new neighbour. Well, that’s the last time I’ll ever try to be neighbourly with him again.

He expressed his strong intention to get back the family crest but also respected Donald by dismissing the fact that Donald stole the crest. If the crest were really not that important, Donald would, of course, trade it for the money Carl offered. However … A small, mocking smile appeared on Donald's face. He threw Carl a bored look and replied, "Oh, Carl, are you kidding me? I've never even seen the Whites' family crest. How would I have it? "My best friends are also narrow-minded, humble men. They don't have the privilege of witnessing something so precious like the Whites' family crest!"

I swiftly grab a pair of his pants, rolling up the pant leg and finding a belt so that it does not fall off. As well as one of my maroon, velvet coats. To keep my identity hidden, as well as to keep me warm. It has embroidery at the ends of it. The royal crest, in gold, a moon, crescent, with a young man's face. The moon has a crown atop its head. The young man's eyes wander down to the nautical, north star in its cavity.

Selena added. Levi hesitated for a moment, his breath catching in his throat. The weight of the pack crest, an emblem of ancestral pride and legacy, With a resigned yet resolute sigh, "Each member had the pack crest on their shoulder, a mark of belonging, an indelible symbol that etched their identity into the annals of time."

“That’s not what this is.” “Then what is it? Because it looks like every person I’ve trusted ends up lying to me.” He clenched his jaw, muscles ticking. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.” I laughed without humor. “Then enlighten me.” For a moment, he didn’t move. The air between us felt like it might break. Then he spoke quietly, the edge gone from his tone. “The mark isn’t a crest. Not anymore. It’s a brand.” “A what?”