Lunar Chronicles Cress Novels & Stories

Alpha Lucas POV Pacing out of her ward, I walk gently with the aim of meeting her daughter. It is of a great advantage to meet the mother and the daughter when one is alive and even in her death I still get to meet her mother. I wonder what nightmare she would be seeing at this point. It is not easy to be cold for some days, I know before I bath her it will take a lot of days. Not because her parents would disagree but because we have to wait for the full moon.

She tilted her chin upward, her lips meeting mine in a deep, possessive kiss that sealed the promise under the morning sky. The phantom ache of her silver scar was completely dead, replaced by the burning, unyielding strength of the Midnight Eclipse line. The vipers had run out of territory, the contracts were burned to ash, and as the wind rustled through the western fields below us, I knew with absolute certainty that the future of the Crescent Warriors belonged entirely to my Luna.

They needed a place that Aethelgard couldn't touch, a place where they could gather their strength and find a way to fight back. Selene looked at the Archive records on her tablet. She said there was a location mentioned in the oldest scrolls, a place called the Moon’s Cradle. It was an ancient Silverback stronghold, hidden deep within the coastal ranges, protected by the same lunar energy that powered the well. She said it was a myth to most, but the Archive gave the exact coordinates.

Surprisingly, the door opened without any resistance and officer Hillary watched as she walked in slowly, like someone in a trance. He began to run to his friend at once, eager to save her from whatever was drawing her inside. He doubted this was going to end well for either of them. Once inside, he was met with some eerie ominous music that sounded very odd to his ears. Officer Hilary looked around for the source of the ominous music but he could not find a visible record player. All he could find were various colors of candles arranged in a semi-circle around a graven image that looked like something cut out from one of Michelangelo's works. He was not sure which one exactly it was. Michel

Leo shouted from the far end of the spiral. He ran back, carrying a sphere that pulsed with a dark, rhythmic violet light—the same color as the star in the moon. "It’s a record from the Ninth Cycle," Leo said, his eyes wide. "It says the Chronos-Silver wasn't meant to be a weapon. It was a bridge. It was used to keep the Alphas from the past connected to the future. But the Weaver corrupted the formula". He tapped the sphere, and a holographic image of the Chronicler appeared—but she looked younger, her silver eyes filled with an ancient grief.

Chapter 50: The Eternal Queen A silver dawn broke over the Lunar Citadel, the first light of a new era cascading across its spired towers and gleaming ramparts. Where once the Citadel had been scarred by war, now banners of midnight blue and silver—Selene’s colors—fluttered in the gentle breeze. The scent of healing herbs and moonblossoms filled the air, a testament to the renewal her reign had already brought.

he called down. Lyra turned. A small group was approaching from the east — cloaked figures moving with purpose. “Council scouts?” Vale asked. Malachai shook his head. “No. Too quiet. Too few.” As they drew closer, Lyra saw the crest on their armor — a crescent moon bound by chains. She’d seen it before, in one of her mother’s hidden sketches. Vale’s eyes narrowed. “The Crescent Order.” Cassian hopped down, his tone suddenly serious. “They were wiped out years ago.”

Alpha Markus strengthened the fences just in case some happens to head this way looking for food. The moon casts its iridescent glow over the grassy lands, and fills me with a faint hint of nostalgia. Nights like this in the past were spent our in the open — Hana, Leora and I — listening with rapt attention as she told us folk tales. I'm sure Leora and Hana would be running about now, playing hide and seek. We always enjoy the night better than the day, and sometimes we go to hunt for food in the wild, basking in the moonlight's glow.

The Lunar Well chamber pulses with silver light, the pool’s surface a mirror reflecting my amber-silver aura, now laced with faint lunar wings. My crescent mark burns, urging me to act, but Lysa’s black-threaded aura lingers in my mind, a puzzle I can’t solve without risking exposure. The lunar-eyed stranger’s warning—Don’t tell Sylvara—clashes with Maddox’s hint about Lysa’s signaling, and the weight of the mole’s betrayal presses heavier with each passing hour. I need clarity, a way to see beyond the Hollow’s tangled threads, so I kneel by the Well, letting my lunar sight sink into its depths.

It watched me with those red eyes, unblinking, until I removed the tube. Then it launched itself into the sky and disappeared. --- The message was written on a torn scrap of parchment, the handwriting sharp and deliberate. Luna Brynn, I know who you are. I know what you carry. I know where you sleep. The Blood Moon rises in eleven weeks. On that night, I will take what is mine. You cost me a brother. I will cost you everything. —Vesper Cross P.S. Your border patrols are weak. I've already been inside your home. Check your daughter's crib.