Moonlight Glass Novels & Stories

It was mine. Tonight, nothing felt predictable. The moon had risen huge and white, not soft but stark—like a coin hammered flat and nailed to the sky. Its light made edges cruelly clear. The moss didn’t blur into shadow; it glittered with frost. My breath came out in ghosts. The air was so sharp with pine and damp soil that I tasted it, resin and metal at the back of my tongue. Somewhere far away, water moved. Somewhere closer, something else did.

And Eliot, already aching, would feel every single one. Damien’s steps slowed as he reached the stairwell. He leaned on the railing, gazing out at the moonlight spilling through the tall glass windows. It painted his face in silver, sharpening his smile into something dangerous. “Moonlight mystique,” he whispered mockingly. “How poetic. How tragic.” Because in the end, Eliot wouldn’t just be Theo’s obsession or Damien’s conquest. He would be something broken, reshaped in the shadows of both their hands.

he passes the rock to me; I accept it with both hands after a moment of hesitation. This is it then, the moment of truth, the little weird rock will dictate the path of my life forever. It's heavy and cool in my palms, somewhat chalky. I brush my right thumb over the smooth surface and then look at the pad of my finger, slightly expecting there to be a white residue on my finger. There isn’t. Hmm. “Look into the moon child” the abbot coaxes I blink slowly, and upon closer inspection, I notice the rock is a slivery blue not white as I initially thought

Michael’s POV The clinking of glassware filled the room as the wedding planner held two shades of ivory against the sunlight streaming through the tall windows. “One is moonlight cream,” she said, “and the other is classic pearl. They look similar, but the undertone completely changes the mood of the ceremony. What do you think?” I blinked at the samples, pretending to care. They looked identical to me. “I think they both look fine,” I said carefully. Chloe tilted her head, reading my tone.

All I can do is watch. And it’s torture. Salcom pulls her toward the center of the room where it sits… the real Moon’s Tear . The bottle rests on a pedestal carved from obsidian, its surface smooth but etched with ancient markings that glows faintly, like the sun but not as bright. The Moon's Tear itself is contained in a crystal-clear glass, the liquid inside glowing with an otherworldly light that almost hurts to look at. It’s small, just a vial, really, but it radiates power so immense, so untouchable, it feels like the guards themselves are holding their breath.

Drifting to Ramanov he smacks his lips together annoyingly. "Where is Moon?'' he asked, his lips barely moving to firm the word, every syllable was flat and showcased his incredible control. " What do you ask, not the slightest idea how you want her to react to this mess." I shook my head straight in the direction of their blood and the broken glasses. This was worse than sarcophagus as dispersed around. Another crack sounded from my neck as it shook me, it was a relief for me, just earlier this morning. He ground his teeth together, his fingers scraping the wooden table that stood in front of him.

Marco stared after them worried. Lyle walked Amaris back the way that they had come. They went past the kitchen, and back to the foyer. They crossed over and went into the room that was just on the other side. Christos was sitting in a high wingbacked chair drinking out of a highball glass. It contained an amber liquid that Amaris assumed was some type of alcohol. Christos looked up at them as they entered and motioned for them to be seated in the two chairs opposite. Lyle let go of Amaris' hand as she walked to one of the arm chairs. Lyle walked to the side table that held the glasses and the decanters of different liquids and poured himself a glass without being offered by his host.

The bottle seems to be an ordinary one, but the liquid inside is beautiful. "It's called Moonshade," Clyde says proudly. "It's a very unique wine. There are only three wineries in the world which produce them. It's more expensive than the most aged wine." I give him a doubtful look, "Are you sure it's okay to be drinking this?" He chuckles, "Oh, yeah. Come on. Bottoms up." He's already poured us both a glass, and I take a sip. The taste has me closing my eyes briefly. It's both sweet and tender on my tongue, and I savor it.

Emily, still barefoot in one of Adrian’s oversized shirts, wandered toward the dining area with a warm mug in hand—only to freeze mid-step. Outside the wide glass doors, above the small lake behind the house, something new had appeared. Suspended a few feet above the water’s surface was a glowing moon-like orb, not overly bright, but just luminous enough to look otherworldly in the daylight. Soft pink light shimmered across its surface like silk. She stepped closer, pressing her fingers lightly against the glass. “Adrian…what is that?” He looked up from where he was setting down plates on the table, then smiled.

A small mirror with a moon etched on its surface. And a thin black book.