Halo: The Mona Lisa Novels & Stories

Three hundred miles away, in the sterile, white-tiled silence of a high-security private clinic, Lucas Montgomery sat bolt upright in his bed. He wasn't watching the news of Luna’s spectacular fall. He wasn't watching anything in the physical world. His eyes were fixed on a blank, whitewashed wall, but his pupils were vibrating with a terrifying, rhythmic intensity, moving as if reading lines of invisible code. Suddenly, a thick vein in his forehead pulsed with a life of its own, and a flicker of electric-blue light traced through the fine capillaries of his retinas.

Ophelia led the infiltration team. Inside, the vault was sterile. Cold. Rows of cryo-chambers, tanks, and prototype weapons lined the walls. But at the center — suspended in light — was a case. Within it, a single strand of golden DNA floated in magnetic stasis. Ophelia’s breath hitched. Halo Prime. The original gene. Pure. Unaltered. She reached for it. And alarms screamed. “Move!” Carl shouted from behind, dragging her down as energy bolts lit the chamber.

"It is not common knowledge, but the halo was made to be carried by a Luna, not a crystal. However, the generation of Lunas that followed the creation of the halo had no one fit enough to carry it, so it was never carried by a Luna." "The Lunas who can carry the halo are referred to as True Lunas; they are said to possess the power of the goddess and are created solely for the protection of the goddess' creations. These people are referred to as being half-vanity. The halo, as you all know, was made by our ancestors with an actual fragment from the goddess' halo, which made it impossible for it to be carried by just anyone," he explained. "Are you saying the Luna is carrying the halo? From w

The curtains were drawn, allowing only thin strips of moonlight to spill across the bed, painting everything in soft silver. His fingers traced invisible patterns along my bare arm, slow and deliberate, as though he never wanted the moment to end. “Stay with me,” he murmured, his voice low and warm. “You don’t need anything else, Aria. Not your pack, not the throne. Just me.” I smiled, tilting my head to look at him. Damon had a way of speaking that made everything sound certain like the future was already written, and all I had to do was step into it.