Jack O Moon Fanart Novels & Stories

How fucking lame is that? ‘The mobile,’ Ares grumbles from the abyss. His reminder brings my attention to the hanging structure above my son’s bed. Walking closer, I gaze at it. It is beautifully crafted. The tent covering the moon is a beautiful navy blue, constellations’ decorate the top, reminding me of the night sky. Underneath sits the triple moon. Upon closer inspection, a key sits in the full moon at the center. Wolves circle the moon, their howling and running figures hanging by fish wire.

He was trembling, his hands clawing at the bridge, his eyes wide with a terror he didn't understand. "You came for a prize," I whispered, standing over him. "You found a judge." I reached down and placed a single hand on his forehead. I didn't kill him. I did something much more permanent. I burned the mandate of the Moonveil into his mind. I showed him the future—a world where the Ashmoor throne was the anchor of the peace, and where the Blood Moon pack was either a servant or a memory. I pulled back. Kael gasped, his eyes clearing, replaced by a look of absolute, hollowed-out submission.

He smirks, but there isn’t any amusement in his eyes. I know that this is serious, but I needed to try some levaty. “This isn't a game. I could lose all respect.” “Frank, you don’t understand. Since the blood moon, I have caught glimpses when I have touched people or things. I think some of that magic is still there. Jack is causing the dissension. He was the one who tred to get you to mark Scarlet so the could control the whole pack that way. I think he had something to do with your father’s death and perhaps mine too. I don’t know about that, but I will. I will learn to control this gift as long as I have it. I am not trying to disrespect you or werewolves. I am simply trying to convey wha

She wasn’t predictable. He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled, eyes locked on her. Every muscle in her body screamed readiness, but beneath the fury and defiance, he felt the tremor in her pulse, the subtle rhythm that told him she had just touched something far bigger than her. Something she wasn’t ready to understand. The symbol she had found. His chest tightened slightly as he remembered the burned crate. The crescent moon crossed by three claw slashes. He had seen it before on bloodied uniforms, tattooed on forearms, carved into doors where wolves had disappeared without trace.

The empty spaces where seven wolves once stood like a circle that couldn’t be broken. “They’re gone,” I say. “Gone how?” I think about that. About the moment the thread snapped. About the way everything just… stopped. “Unmade,” I answer. The word sits between us. Heavy. He studies me like he’s trying to see what that cost. I don’t help him. I don’t know how to explain something I barely understand myself. His gaze shifts upward. To the Moon. It’s still there. But it looks… farther. Smaller.

The artistic style is unmistakable, executed by the Silvermoon Muse, an anonymous rogue painter whose street murals across the Silvermoon Capital Jone had defended for winters. Jone sinks onto the furs of his low bench, opening the heavy pages as his heart slams against his ribs. The inner parchment contains vivid depictions of them sharing flasks at the Crescent Moon Lodge during their early truce, surrounded by winter roses. Jone remembers that specific solstice night with brutal clarity, back when their only warfare consisted of petty border raids and stealing hunting contracts from each other's vards. He turns the page, his eyes dilating as he reads the opening inscription: To the master

she said, her irritation fading into a smile as she grabbed her slides and took one last look in the mirror. The soft glow of her bedroom lanterns reflected off her ash-blonde hair, which she had twisted into a perfect, messy bun, with short curls framing her round face. Her pale purple eyes sparkled, flecked with hints of silver—a distinct mark of being Moon-Kissed. Soon, she thought, her mate would see her as she saw herself: beautiful, unique, a prize worthy of any Alpha’s daughter.

“Thank you, Emma.” The other cubs crowded around, not wanting to be left out. Each one had their own masterpiece to share. Tommy had drawn me training with the young warriors, complete with little speech bubbles saying “Be stronger!” and “You can do it!” Lisa's picture showed the whole pack running together under a full moon. And little Max, only four years old, had created what he proudly declared was just me, Kane, and Zane smiling — though it mostly looked like three happy blobs. Emma watched from the doorway, her eyes soft. More footsteps approached, and the Beta pair appeared with fresh clothes and… was that chocolate chip pancakes?

But in tribulation when all the evil forces were behind that fairy, Moon walked into the Lycan's sight, his heart clenched with desire, and he knew without a doubt in his heart that the beauty belonged exclusively to him; he had to own her. He became increasingly enamored with the young fairy, and soon Moon became his dark obsession, his sole object of admiration like a dove enclosed in its golden cage. Even though he had a deep-seated evil running through the veins of his body, he was believed to be a kind-hearted individual by most people. He was, however, built on lies and deception because underneath the jeweled mask he wore, there was a hideous face that was twisted with disgust, greed,

His tall figure cut through the air like a blade, and his voice carried easily as he grabbed the mic. “We all know this is what you came for,” Jayson said, smirking slightly. His eyes swept across the crowd like he was already picking out winners and losers. “Tonight’s game is simple: one Alpha, one skilled hunter, and one… let's just say, underdog.” There were a few scattered laughs and a lot of tense silence. I couldn’t tell if Jayson was trying to be clever or if there was something else behind his words. “The moon above us tonight is no ordinary moon,” he went on, his tone darker now. “It’s the Blood Moon. And under its light, the forest changes. The shadows twist. And the prey... is unl