Resident Evil Crimson Head Novels & Stories

Broken columns lined their path, and moss-covered altars hinted at rituals long faded from living memory. Suddenly, the scent of ash and decay drifted to them. Kael froze. “Something’s here.” Elandra’s hand went to the dagger at her hip, her senses flaring. “Not something,” she whispered. “Someone.” From behind a collapsed wall, a figure emerged—hooded, cloaked in deep crimson. His presence chilled the air. The symbol on his chest marked him as Crimson Fang. Kael snarled, shifting partially, his eyes flashing with Alpha gold. “You followed us?”

I hurried towards it. The bodies turned out to be witches from smaller covens. I knew immediately that they were the missing ones. As I turned around to call for help, a hand grabbed me from the clump, making me squeal hard. I looked down at the owner of the hand and at the face screamed once, long. Her face was mangled beyond recognition and only strips of skin were on her hand, showing the bones and lots of blood. “Shkk- she- very strong. Brown mask. Disappear w- wi- tth cu- cu- rrrsed- ones.” She hissed, blood gurgling from her mouth. She fell back, her bloody hand trailing blood down my hand.

He gritted his teeth and decided to open his eyes and wipes the water away from his face with both of his hands. "Why? I know that you're going to need me tonight. We're going to have a visit on that lovely Heather!" He can feel the excitement of himself while saying those. It urges him to do it. It pushes him to make it happen. By his hands, by his own feet. But not by his own decision, but by himself. Bring him own self to another murderous part of his world. Inviting the horror of him, the mystery in him back in himself. "Aren't you getting chills, Collin? Because I do. I wanna see some blood! I wanna hear some screams! I wanna to taste death!" It encourages him more to do it. To kill...

"Tell me all you know of Amara." Thalia begins to explain, her voice steady and filled with conviction. "Amara is unique, King Badan. I believe she is a hybrid—half wolf or lycan, mixed with witch's blood. If my suspicions are correct, she is the last descendant of the Crimson pack, making her royalty. It seems that she was bound as a baby to hide the immense power she holds within, and her counterpart was bound to never surface."

Her smile was carved in cold precision, lips painted the color of blood remembered. “You always did underestimate me,” Valentina said softly. “You thought fire would cleanse. But fire only transforms.” Bianca’s dagger trembled once then steadied. “You’re a ghost wearing flesh.” “Perhaps. Or perhaps I’m the consequence of your unfinished sins.” Behind Valentina, shadows moved figures cloaked in crimson. Their masks were carved in the likeness of serpents devouring their own tails. The Crimson Pact is alive, reborn, and loyal to her.

Watching. “Riri,” she whispered into the cool dark. Something massive moved — quiet, slick, powerful. Aria’s breath caught in her throat as coils slid from the shadows, scaled black streaked with gold and deep red, wrapping slowly around the base of the chamber like a throne in motion. The serpent rose from the stone, gliding along the smooth floor until her face hovered inches from Aria’s chest. Deep purple eyes met hers. Glowing. Bottomless. “You smell different,” Eris hissed, her voice curling around Aria’s spine like incense smoke. “Like you’re already claimed.”

Crimson. The ceremony's completion moves through Lucian's system with the finality of something that cannot be partially done, the First Hybrid's merged soul completing its integration with the channels in a wave that starts in the chest and moves outward through the limbs and the extremities and the crown on Lucian's brow, the gold-red burning there shifting in response, the colors remaining but the quality of them changing, deeper and older and carrying the specific weight of something that has been doing this for a very long time.

She flips one open, showing us the colored edges where half the pages have been ripped out. “These keep talking about the Crimson Moon Queen. They don’t call them curses. They are described as shifters the goddess sends down on purpose.” She points at a jagged tear. “Right here, you can see mentions of ‘Crimson-born’ People with crimson eyes. Zhodin’s name is all over the early and later parts. It’s like every time a story of a cursed being comes up, his name or the Fenaris bloodline appears right beside it.” “How come none of us ever saw these books?” Khaisha walks over, leaning in to inspect the yellowed parchment.

A recognition that lived below thought. The woman's eyes opened fully. Crimson. Not human. Deep glowing red lit from somewhere inside, burning steady and old and alive. Tyra stepped back. "Who are you." "You already know," the woman said. Her voice was warm and cracked at the edges like something that had been through fire and come out the other side. She moved forward, each step soundless on the black soil. Her crimson eyes moved over Tyra's face with a desperation that was almost physical. Like someone who had been kept from something for so long that seeing it again hurt. "You have always known."

He activated the crimson circle. The giant Blood Mirror above me glowed. A dark red beam pierced my veins. Agony shot through me like a million silver needles. It was pulling out my memories. The Crimson Trial drains a vampire's blood to project their past. It shreds the soul. It feels like burning under the noon sun. It is the cruelest punishment for traitors. I felt the mirror sucking my life away. But I didn't fight it. Instead, I felt a weird, perfect peace.