Moonlight Sculptor Novels & Stories

I figure that's good enough. I tilt my head down and look through my camera's viewfinder again. The sight immediately makes me hold my breath for a second. The almost-full moon is there in all its radiant splendor. Its silvery glow weaves a spell over the night, and finally I reach forward to click the shutter. As I lose myself in the rhythmic trance of capturing lunar beauty, a distant wolf's howl becomes a haunting melody through the woods. Abruptly, the lens darkens, and for a second I wonder if a black cloud has suddenly obscured my view. When I pull back to check though, I gasp.

Oh, my goddess, what are we going to do? "Kelp, how touched?" I asked. "I don't know, but she's close to the goddess. Won't know how close until she turns 17." is his answer. Anyone who is moon touched means they are related to our moon goddess, Selene. They can be male or female, but no one knows their relationship to the goddess until they turn 17 and the mark appears on their forehead. The goddess then visits her relatives, helping them to understand their power.

How dare Evelyn cheat on me with him? He glanced around, admiring the walls lined with paintings and towering statues. "I love your pack's museum," His voice trailed off as he studied the massive Moon Goddess statues. They were crafted from the rarest materials—rose gold, silver, and gold gleaming under the light. Surrounding her were the sculptures of her descendants, wolves' heads, and other intricate relics that spoke of ancient times. "Nothing entertaining here," I muttered. "Wrong," he countered, his eyes flicking to mine. With a casual shrug, he adjusted the brown jacket draped over his suit and pants, his black leather gloves creaking as he flexed his hands.

Warriors who had faced death without flinching now wept freely, their voices cracking in prayer. The Moonborn stepped forward. Her voice rang clear, carrying the steadiness of youth shaped by fire. “She was a healer. She was a warrior. She was Luna, mother, and friend. She gave us more than magic—she gave us each other. This statue is not only for her. It is for us. A promise that we will care for the wounded, guide the lost, and build a world worthy of the gift she gave.” She knelt, touching the carved plaque at its base, her fingers tracing the words cut into stone:

If I don't get out of here now, it would be me next. Slowly, I took some steps backward, looking around for an outlet or a place I could hide. It was past midnight and the moon's light was the only source of illumination. Thorns and woods are what filled my pathway and I didn't know where to turn to. With my mother's last words still reeling in my head, I cleared a path along the woods with my hand as I ran. Ignoring the thorns and rough tree barks, that pickled me, I ran like my life depended on it.

The trees leaned as though trying to flee. ⸻ Day Seven. The final countdown. Ava stood by the ancient ruins, the wind wrapping around her like a cloak. Achi joined her, his body tense but steady. “We started this with fear,” she said, her voice clear, “but we’ll finish it with truth.” Behind them, Marcus and Darius watched in silence. Neither dared speak. The ground itself seemed to breathe with anticipation. The Blood Moon began to rise—larger than ever, swollen and pulsing with power. Its red light painted the world in warning.

“I…goddess, I don’t even know what to say.” I shifted back before he could finish. The world folded inward, pulling my wolf beneath my skin. The fur receded, the markings dimmed but didn’t disappear, they lingered like faint moonlit tattoos across my shoulders, my ribs and my hips. I stood barefoot in the moss, breath shaky, body warm from the remnants of power. Malik took a step toward me then he stopped before talking slow step forward again. His hands hovered near my arms but didn’t settle. His voice broke slightly when he whispered, “Moon-born.”

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.

"Doesn’t matter. You need protection. We all do. And a coven bond will make us stronger than anything Zach—or Derek—can throw at us." Rita’s chest warmed. She set the bowl aside. "Okay. Let’s do it." Midnight – The Old Oak Grove The moon hung full and heavy over the clearing, its silver light filtering through the ancient oak branches. The girls had chosen this spot for its energy—a natural convergence point where the earth’s magic pooled like water.

Promises made to moons that did not forgive. “I didn’t choose this,” I said, the words scraping free. “I didn’t ask for any of it.” The silver warmed around me, almost gentle. PURPOSE DOES NOT REQUIRE CONSENT. A shape emerged from the void. Massive. Wolf-like. Its form rippled as if forged from liquid moonlight, eyes burning white-hot. Each step bent the silver around it, reality folding in deference. The Moon Guardian. It extended a paw larger than my torso and pressed it lightly to my chest.