Ruby Red Goblets Novels & Stories

The air within the Ironfang Pack’s stronghold was charged with anticipation. The Great Hall, usually a place of familial warmth and ancestral pride, had been transformed into a space of deliberate diplomacy. Anya's runic goblet rested on a central pedestal, its etched surface gleaming softly, a silent testament to the legacy they fought to uphold. Around it, carefully arranged, were Elder Marcus’s scrolls and Anya’s personal trinkets – the carved wooden bird, a worn leather-bound journal, each item a fragment of her wisdom and spirit.

The red vials opened with a pop as Dongyue removed their caps. Xiyu understood the risk, identifying the vials carefully with her magic. She immediately confirmed that the potions contained within had health-improving properties, but it was not tellable if somebody had tainted the concoctions at any point. Red berries. Red symbolised strength. Dongyue remembered this. Now came the question of whether it was worth taking the risk for them to hurry and recover so that they could find his companions and work a way out of the place.

Or maybe he had more to hide than I did. I handed the bottle back to him without meeting his eyes, but the Goddess had other plans for us. My fingers brushed his as he collected the bottle, and I felt a spark of desire move through my body from that single point of contact. Right there and then, I wanted nothing more than to turn around on the horse and mark him as my mate.

I couldn't do anything whilst they were in danger. "I would like to introduce you all to my female." Drax says, announcing my presence to the room. "As you all know she is quite special, the Red wolf. A gift from Selene herself. But, she is mine and if anyone touches her. You'll have me to deal with. Do I make myself clear?" the whole room answers in unison. "Yes alpha!" Drax nods, "You may all eat." He says in a stale voice, as though he'd rather be somewhere else or is bored. He turns to me and hands me a plate, motioning to the blonde haired wolf. "You have already met Christian, my beta."

So familiar, but exotic in a way I couldn't even begin to explain. I just stood, staring out the door like an absolute idiot, taking in the God at my doorstep. I couldn't take my eyes off his own. A deep-set swirling violet tinted with the darkest ebony black was confined to the irises of his eyes. It almost trapped me, like hands made from the illusory magic that seemed to pull me in.

Nathan’s family lays white stones at Gregory’s feet—to light his way to Selene’s realm. Meredith, Gael, and Hakeem place white lilies in his hands—a gift for the goddess. Liam, Bhakti, and Sandra paint red crescents on his hands and feet—to keep greedy gods from stealing him as a warrior. Diego, Karamea, and Lily lay owl feathers around his head—to preserve his wisdom for the next life. Donovan, Kesha, Chloe, Casen, and Severn wind garlands of white roses and poppies around the pyre—to tether his spirit until his journey is done.

“Moreover, it seems very new and modern when you look at its color, but this is because Goryeo is rich in pearls. Hence, they crushed some pearls and mixed the powder in it to give it a iridescent glazing effect.” “If you don’t believe in me, you can send this for the carbon element identification. It’s not difficult to identify its age and composition.” Although his voice was low, he said it bluntly. Everyone was confused, except for Shane, Rosalie Naiswell, Charles, and Luis Zarate. No one knew what Harvey was talking about. Goryeo? Princess Cassandra? Were they related? ‘I did not study much. Don’t you fool me!’ At this time, Shane smiled and said, “Well, Charles, Harvey did not talk nons

ERIC’S POV The royal chef presents the goblet filled with wine. I gesture for him to leave and he bows his head before leaving. I look towards the goblet. It is a silver goblet adorned with different precious and rare stones. I pick the goblet up and take a sip of this wine of Eden. The moment the liquid touched my tongue I felt heavenly bliss. This is my favorite wine because its red color represents victory, my victory. It has always been said that red is the color of victory and that is the reason I like it.

No grand displays of wealth, no soft velvets or ornate decorations. A soft crimson glow emanated through the darkness from somewhere unseen. As the only light, it stained the furniture, as if everything were bathed in blood. High-backed chairs twisted with elaborate ironwork like thrones of shadow and bone. Dark upholstery drank in the dim glow, obscuring its true colors. A small table at the heart of the room reflected the light in sickly streaks. Upon it sat a single goblet, its silver rim dulled with age. The liquid inside gleamed, too viscous to be wine.

Crystal goblets brimmed with drinks in every jewel tone — ruby-red elixirs, sapphire-blue cordials, golden mead that seemed to hum softly if you listened closely. The people were almost as dazzling as the décor. Velvet gowns trailed like rivers, silks clung like water, and threads of gold and silver caught the light with every movement. The men were just as shamelessly adorned, their tunics heavy with embroidery, some wearing crowns or circlets far too ostentatious for a mere guest. It was beautiful — yes — and utterly exhausting. “I suppose this is her way of saying she’s still our benevolent ruler,” I murmured to Diana. “Throw enough wine and sugared peaches at people, and they’ll forget y