Moon Rising Graphic Novels & Stories

The only source of light was the luminous moon, its coruscating rays lending an air of mysticism. When the full orb of the moon reached its highest peak, Liam threw his head back and howled. A haunting tone, one that spoke of his loneliness, that spoke of regret, that wished with every breath for a companion, a tone that hid a melancholy, hoping that it would one day be answered by an equal. That would not be today. Today, all that answered his call were groans of pain and the gasps from the spectators gathered around. The kids were changing. Liam watched carefully, making sure each of the little ones was coming though alright. For some reason he had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Dark eyes, light skin, high cheekbones, sharp jaw, Adonis on earth or Hades. “I need to have a talk with the alpha's son in private and I know that your friend is his mate, so convince her to convince him,” he stated, reaching inside his pocket and pulling out a card. He handed it to me. It was the V. I. P access platinum card of one of the hottest clubs in this town. “We’ll meet on neutral ground and it’s a plus unlimited so feel free to join,” he stated cockily, might as well kick your feet up on the table and call the library his kingdom.

It was like flipping a light switch to on and feeling your bulb blaze and start to burn out customer after customer. The current customer in question was a woman rattled on about how she had made one of Gabbi’s recipes for a dinner party and how it had been the absolute hit of the evening. Gabbi thanked her for her purchase and autographed her book. The woman asked for a photograph with Gabbi and she obliged. As the flash lit up the dim room, her eyes felt hot as the little black dots began to form in front of them. She blinked a few times to clear her eyes and, when she finally regained her vision, standing before her was a tall, dark mystery man staring down at her.

Tonight, its grey walls are bathed in the soft shimmer of bistro lights strung across the grounds. But the brightest light of all is the one above us—the full moon, hanging clear and silver in the sky. A formal event beneath a full moon… with a werewolf. It feels almost too much like a fairytale. And yet, I can’t ignore what the stories say about werewolves on nights like this.

She looks up, and it's true. It has been rusting ever since last spring if you believe the papers, but who would still believe them nowadays? They have been lying for a year now. Except, when it comes to the moon. With its brown spots, it looks marbled. As if someone had taken it off the sky by the start of the year in order to petrify it. Like what they’ve done with life.

He looked up through the branches at the sky. The moon was almost full again. She draws wolves, he thought. Even there. Even in that place. Hold on, Mira. We're coming.

It’s evening of the same day, they have done some activities and have rested, had a late lunch after they woke up too, now its nighttime and the moon over a large body of water shines prettily. The air shifts to be a little cooler as the moon rises, its pretty pale light spreading over the resort like a creamy silk clothe. Gentle waves slap against the wooden but sturdy poles of their villa, and the little splashes make her smile.

It felt like I was there to experience it. My gaze fell upon a particular mural, one that drew me in with an almost magnetic pull. It depicted a scene unlike the others—an image of the Moon Wolf standing alone atop a cliff, its head raised toward the heavens. The moon above it was full, its light shining down upon the wolf as if blessing it with its celestial power. Surrounding the wolf were swirling patterns of light, symbols that I instinctively knew represented the flow of energy from the moon to the wolf. But it was the figure standing beside the wolf that captured my attention—a figure that looked strikingly like myself. The woman in the mural held out her hand.. The Moon Wolf’s paw res

I felt a deep sense of reverence as I walked through the chamber, absorbing the history that was unfolding before me. At the far end of the chamber was another puzzle, but this one was different. It was a large stone platform, and on it was a mural of a wolf gazing up at a full moon. The moon was depicted in stunning detail, with rays of light extending out from it, covering the platform in a soft, silvery glow. There were no symbols to touch, no pillars to align—just the wolf and the moon.