Red Hood Symbol Novels & Stories

“What kind of calling card?” “A symbol spray-painted on the warehouse wall. Boss, I think you need to see this.” “Send me the footage.” My phone buzzed with the incoming file. I opened it, watching masked figures move efficiently through the warehouse, setting charges, then the camera angle shifted to the exterior wall. The symbol was large, painted in red, a double-headed eagle with a crown, crossed swords behind it. I knew that symbol. Everyone in my world knew that symbol. “That’s impossible,” I breathed.

“Yes, Your Majesty.” “How was it opened?” The guard swallowed. “From the inside.” My stomach dropped. “Is anyone there?” “We don’t know.” “Then check.” The guard hesitated. “There is something else.” Rhydian’s eyes narrowed. “What?” The guard stepped aside. A black symbol was visible on the floor outside the corridor. A circle crossed by three sharp lines. The same dark mark I’d seen on the controlled soldiers. Dominion. I stared at it. Rhydian moved in front of me.

It was one of her father’s most secret communications, a symbol he had meticulously devised, taught to her in whispered lessons during their clandestine meetings in his private study, a code known only to them, and perhaps, to his most trusted, most deeply hidden, allies. The symbol depicted a stylized raven, its wings outstretched, its beak open in a silent cry. It was a representation of freedom, of flight, of the ability to move unseen through the shadows. But beneath its wings, intertwined with its very form, was a smaller, almost imperceptible, knot, a complex series of interlocking loops.

“We…don’t…speak…it.” Coward, the Zenaida-voice inside me hissed. “Then draw it,” I said. “In the blood you were so eager to spill.” I lifted my boot, just enough for him to move his arm. He hesitated, then dragged his fingers through the puddle of red by his leg. His hand shook as he traced on the concrete, rain already working to blur the lines. The symbol that emerged was ugly in its simplicity: a circle with a line through the center, and four smaller cuts radiating outward like claw marks.

Alec couldn’t speak in too much irritation and probably, anger. His eyes were so red, like the color of evil itself. The color of blood and war. The color of death. Yes, red can symbolize love like that of a rose. But it could symbolize many things such as what I have mentioned already.

"After all, I already have a new one, and I won't wear the old one. "I don't think you have one, do you?" Joanna looked at Jeffrey lovingly, her voice elongated like a kitten. "If you want one, ask Jeffrey to buy one. It's not expensive anyway. "But there's a problem. He has already used his ID to buy a DR ring once. So if you need it, you might have to get it from a different person." Joanna said in a sarcastic tone, but her expression looked like she was aggrieved. Seeing the bracelet engraved with the oath on the outstretched wrist, I suddenly felt like a clown.

“You’ve got quite the art collection here. Bit dramatic, though. Not one of them looks happy.” Reinhardt’s lips curved into a faint smile. “That’s Thornveil for you. We don’t paint smiles; we paint victories.” “Yeah,” I muttered. “I can see that.” We kept walking. I tried to keep my eyes forward, but something else caught my attention—a sword hanging from Reinhardt’s hip. The hilt glimmered faintly in the torchlight, marked with an old, familiar symbol. A crescent shape with silver streaks curling through the center.