King Crimson Requiem Novels & Stories

WE ALL STAND QUIETLY on the path leading up the dark-gloomy castle entrance as the three matrons carry out a ritual. Seven small outcropping rocks lie spread wide apart in a horizontal line at the path leading to the castle steps and Oniko with the assistance of Bashir and Biola moves to each of the rocks, taking one of the seven rams that had been made available for the ritual, slaughtering the rams upon it and letting the blood spill upon the rock while the matrons follow them from behind chanting incantations.

It was the agony of a connection severed, a piece of her soul ripped out with violence, that shook her very being. The crimson liquid, imbued with dark magic, sizzled on her skin as it seeped into her, pulsing with an unholy light. The chanting rose to a fever pitch. Sweat beaded on her brow, her vision blurring as she fought the rising tide of nausea. Tears streamed down her face. Reyana's teary eyes caught sight of Odessa, who led the ritual. She had a satisfied look on her face. A final, ear-splitting shriek escaped her lips as the crimson light reached its zenith. The symbols on the platform flared white hot, then imploded with a deafening crack that echoed through the hall. The chanting

ILANA. The Blood Moon Festival came five days too early. On the third evening, the moon bathed its eerie, crimson glow over the Nightshade Pack. This was an event rarely experienced and considered by the pack to be a sign from the Moon Goddess, hastening the fate of two destined mates. The pack was in an uproar of joyful frenzy. The whole of the pack square hummed with excitement, as though even the air vibrated in anticipation. I faltered at the door to Rana's small cabin and brushed off invisible lint from the pale blue dress that Rana had lent me for tonight. "Rana, are you sure about this?" I asked, trying to keep the nerves from edging my voice.

She smiled, “her wolf is one that needs a strong human, not just anyone can control Crimson.” My eyes darted to her and then back to the road, “Crimson, as in blood, fire and brimstone, that type of Crimson?” She sat up straight, “why would you think like that and not that it is just the color red.” I shrugged, “Angel remember, I always think that type of stuff first,” I gave her a shy smile. She nodded, “it doesn’t matter, Crimson is gone with her, unless she is now with someone who didn’t have a wolf.”

He had been staring directly into my eyes since I sat down and I wondered how intimidating he must have thought it was. ‘’ How badly do you want Christopher Rhinehart dead?’’ He finally asked and I had to school my face to remain expressionless. He probably wanted to strike the the- enemy – of – my -enemy – is – my – friend deal with me, but vampires in general were my enemies, I didn’t have specific dislikes and I was beginning to prefer the Rhineharts to vampires who hid out in dusty buildings and sat on Cain chairs -- but then, everyone preferred the rich.

Damon’s POV The wind carried the scent of steel and sanctified blood. I stood atop the watchtower, eyes fixed on the horizon. The Crimson Order came like a storm. Crimson banners, golden armor, and their twisted symbol—two swords piercing a wolf's skull—fluttering like a warning from the gods. They hadn’t set foot outside their sacred mountains in decades. But now they marched toward my kingdom, declaring me an abomination and Rhea a dark queen reborn. Liars.

The elders were in position. Everything was ready. Everything except.. Them. Ryan and Crystal. There they were. Crystal emerged first, stepping into the ceremony like she was born for this moment. She was dressed in deep crimson, the silk catching the light, flowing around her like liquid fire. She was glowing,radiant, triumphant. And at her side.. Ryan. Dressed in dark ceremonial robes, the embroidered silver sigils of his lineage stark against the black fabric. A crown of iron and bone rested against his brow, a symbol of his place, his power, his duty.

The candles went out. Author’s Note - The Crimson Veil began as a late-night idea about what might happen if logic met temptation in its purest, most dangerous form. Evelyn’s curiosity is my own: the need to understand what we fear, even when it leads us somewhere we can’t easily return from. This story mixes gothic atmosphere, mystery, and forbidden connection—a slow burn between intellect and instinct. Every chapter was written and refined by hand, inspired by old literature and the darker side of human emotion.

“Then it’s not just showing me what’s happened. It’s showing me what will.” Theo reached beside the table again and pulled out a second item from the leather folder. It was slim, bound in deep red linen, the corners worn with time. He hesitated before handing it to her. Her breath caught the moment she saw the title: The Crimson Letter By Isla Ward She stared at it, her hand hovering. “Where did you get this?” “I found it last year,” Theo said quietly. “Tucked behind the books in the library’s upper shelf. I didn’t know what it was at first. Just that it felt… wrong.”

Zafira's red teary eyes again brimmed with tears, "This is my end. End of my life. End of my freedom. End of my love. End of Azrael's CRIMSON" ... Thank you ShineeSunshine ♥️