Noctis Lucis Caelum Older Novels & Stories

“Who’s ‘we’?” “The House of Nocturne.” Lucien stepped closer. His coat brushed the floor like whispers behind a curtain. “Vampires, yes—but not the kind from mortal stories. We are older than your oldest songs. And far less sentimental.” Kael’s stance didn’t shift, but his body hummed with readiness. “You’ve made your point.” Lucien ignored him entirely. “I come not just as a representative,” he said. “But as someone... curious.” Elara crossed her arms. “Curious about what?”

A gasp tore from her. The entity’s warning echoed faintly. Your paths may cross. But not without cost. Tears blurred her vision. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, though she knew he could not hear. She forced herself to turn away. The worlds needed her. And if she lingered too long, she might unravel completely. On the fifth night, the sky finally shuddered. Lucien stood at the border of Nightfall, watching the horizon, when a tremor rippled through the stars. A faint silver glow bloomed where the moon should be.

The lingering emotions all swirled together, leaving him feeling lost and uncertain. ************************* INDEX: (lets refresh those latins!) Aestas - Summer Hora Secunda - Second Hour ( ancient Roman time-keeping) 7am-8am Solis Ortus - Sunrise lorica hamata - a type of chain mail armor gladius - sword galea - helmet with horsehair crest Filius meus iuvenis - my young son cubiculum - room (singular) cubiculi - rooms (plural) triclinium - dining area with triclinia

Cole mind-linked me that it was Latin. “Velum temporis, nunc discede, Ostende umbras quae latuerunt. Umbrae praeteritae, secreta tua revela, Veritatis lux in silentio splendeat. Hoc carmine, scaena redeat, Concede mihi visum hesterni diei.”

Preparations are underway, I mentioned how this was basically my favorite holiday over and over again to Luke. Noctis Selenist, Noctis for short is a primal festival done to honor the wolf spirit and release power from the moon back into the werewolves. On Noctis emotions run high and the wolves are their most one with nature, giving into their primal instincts which means, hunts, ritauals, rites of passage and a lot of eating and drinking.

“…that makes no sense, I doubt Van has even so much as visited Yorkshire in decades.” It was Celeste’s turn to smile like she knew something he didn’t which caused the smile on Lucian’s face to die a quick death. “He has. In fact, I can tell you with a hundred percent accuracy that he is as we speak.” She smiled seeing Lucian’s face twist into something dark and ugly. He was thoughtless. What this could mean, he had no idea, but it could never be anything good if Evander thought it wise to go to Yorkshire. Most especially now when a war was brewing and awaiting the right moment to erupt into the utter destruction of all species.

LUCIEN. Prince of Darkness, ruler of Kalmerus, one of the four Underworld regions. "How long are you going to stand there and watch that fiber, father?" For the nth time today, Lucius asked as he slumped his body on my throne, making me hiss before I motioned for him to get off my seat. He laughed as he stood up before walking to where I stood, staring at the fiber in front of us.

Lucian's presence embodied the duality of danger and allure, a captivating enigma that beckoned me to explore the uncharted territory of my own desires. With an imperceptible nod, Lucian acknowledged my presence, silently inviting me to join him on this transformative night. It was a silent agreement, a mutual understanding that defied the constraints of words. In his gaze, I glimpsed the flicker of an unspoken promise—that together, we would navigate the uncharted depths of the lunar festival, and perhaps, find solace within each other's company.

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.

The void trembled. Elias stood before the throne of bones, the air around him heavy with death. The glyphs across his skin blazed with radiant fury, casting golden light across the shattered cliff. Behind him, the stars bled. Nihareth rose from the throne with a serene kind of madness, his voice echoing like a fractured hymn. “You came alone. How poetic. And predictable.” “I didn’t,” Elias whispered. The light behind him split open with a deafening crack—a beam of starlight collapsing into the form of Lucian, sword drawn, eyes burning.