Moonwatcher Novels & Stories

Not the Watcher. Something far older. Something history itself had forgotten. 🌑

Their presence is cold, ancient, patient. "I have come to ask," I say. "The Watchers. Who are they?" Silence. Then a whisper, like wind through dead leaves. The Watchers are the eyes of the void. They see all. They remember all. They are the ones who witnessed the birth of the moon and the rise of the wolves. "Why are they coming for me?" They come because you are the one. The one who carries the light. The one who will either save the world or doom it.

I wait til I hear feel the cold air drifting into the kitchen and the soft sound of a door closing before glancing into the hallway again. Through the doors glass I could see Embers back to me. The left side of her body was eliminated white from the moon and her hair looked like silver threads as they hung down her back. Creeping towards the door she shifts and a second later a see a silvery gold wolf dashing across the snow, her body low as she ran.

Watchers are intelligent creatures. Tsuki Miki thought to himself how smart he was, so he could get rid of his countless opponents, heading towards the temples, killing whoever got in his way. Nothing stupid, but they are extremely racist towards other types of observers, so it's perfectly acceptable to kill them (just kidding, it's ok to kill anything, that he sees, that he can send, that goes to that one). specific time of the temple you entered. Being a Watcher, then, he like the others was immediately identifiable, being essentially a floating head with a single Cyclops-like eye surrounded by twenty smaller eye rods, he had over thirty tentacles that curled into riches, into which he ent

I asked, looking over his shoulder curiously to get a better look at the watch. He turned, and without requesting my permission, put the watch around my wrist. “Moonmark,” he said. I raised a brow at him. “What's Moonmark?” “The watch,” he said. “It's called a Moonmark.” “Why?” “It only ticks under a full moon,” he explained. “And if your mate is close by, the hands freeze at midnight.” I admired the watch quietly. The leather strap had worn out, but the dial still looked brand new. It had a crack across the face, but that was all.

the numbers blurred as my head throbbed. I must have finally collapsed into a fitful sleep, the device still clutched in my hand. The scream of my dawn-alarm shattered my skull. I silenced it, massaging my temples while the memories of the night flooded back. I grabbed the screen. One new message. Thank the Moon. You heard me. I tore the message open. The Watcher: "You must learn to bear your own teeth. This must be the final time you allow someone to leash your will."

The First Enemy POV: Aidan For a moment I think I heard the Custodian wrong. A scout. The word repeats in my head like an echo that refuses to stop. Matteo is the first one to react. He stares at the projection hovering above the silver floor. The tiny object drifting near the outer edge of the solar system. “That,” he says slowly, pointing at it, “is the scout for the galaxy eating moon.” Yes. The Custodian’s voice remains perfectly calm.

"The Watcher built this place as a trap. It needs a master to rule it or a victim to power it. I chose to be the victim for you!" "No " Maya whispered. She looked at a Silver Pen lying in the grass. It was dull and grey now. She remembered her lessons. She remembered how a poison can sometimes be a cure if you change it. She realized the secret. The Watcher had not just built a city; he had built a mirror. "Aris!" Maya called out. "The satellite is not powered by the sun! Look at the computer readings!" Aris pulled a tablet from her pocket. Her fingers moved fast. Her face went pale. "You are right... The solar panels are fake. The power is coming from... The people?. They are sleeping!"

The grey light of the Unwritten Realms did not change, but a new rhythm was established within the Chromatic Vault. It was the rhythm of a machine. I was its central processor. Maia returned with her report, delivered in efficient, pulsed thoughts. *"The path is clear. A nest of dream-eaters has migrated south. The Watchers' presence is minimal, a single patrol on a twelve-hour cycle. The way is safe."* I acknowledged her with a nod. "Good. We move at the next patrol interval."

He froze, listening, the blade gleaming faintly in the moonlight that slipped through the curtains. Then it happened. The door didn’t creak this time. It burst. A rush of cold air flooded the cabin as the Second Watcher filled the frame, tall and shadowed, his face masked by the dark. For one fleeting second, Mara thought she was dreaming again. That she had conjured him from the night itself. But then his voice came, low and commanding: “Move.” The First Watcher sprang to his feet, knife raised, teeth bared. “You—”