Sam Crescent Novels & Stories

The empty field on the outskirts of the city was cloaked in darkness, with only the glow from the car lights breaking the darkness. The silence here felt like a deep contrast to the chaotic screams of the mob they had just fled from. Vespera perched on the edge of the open trunk, her face pale in the low light. She winced as Trent tended to the jagged wound on her forearm, taking a sharp breath. This man seemed to be Ezekiel's friend, a closer friend maybe. Ezekiel had not wasted time in calling him some minutes again.

“Just like me. Abandoned at Silver Lake’s borders with no identification except a scrap of paper with my first name.” Nico approached, his steps measured. “May I?” he asked, extending his hand for the certificate. I relinquished it reluctantly, feeling as though I was surrendering a piece of myself I’d only just recovered. His eyes narrowed as he examined it. “Crescent Moon Pack,” he noted. “They’re known for their secrecy and their strong connection to ancient werewolf traditions. And—“ he paused, finger tracing the bottom of the document “—there’s something else here.”

"But here's some free advice: Crimson Moon Academy isn't about pity. It's about power. And you? You have none." The green-eyed boy suddenly appeared in the seat beside me, making both Jenny and me jump. "Mind if I sit here?" he asked, though he was already settled in. Jenny's eyes narrowed. "And you are?" "Ethan Cross," he said pleasantly. "From Shadowville. And you must be Jenny Patterson. I've heard so much about you." Something in his tone made Jenny's face flush. "Oh? All good things, I hope." "Oh, definitely things," he said with that same not-quite-smile. "Lots and lots of things."

After several losses of their lands, properties, and pack members, they had to give in to one another for peace to reign. But the peace didn’t last long enough. The Crescent moon pack took advantage of this peace to rebuild, farm, and stay away from others because they had more to lose due to their smaller numbers. The other three packs, Midnighters, Emoon, and the Crossers, lived in sophistication, wealth, and riches, growing more arrogant. They teamed up together, led by the Midnighters pack, to attack the Crescents because of their lands and natural resources. The Crescents pack were the most strategic warriors, despite their small numbers, led by their warlord Alpha Heartfield.

Rot and memory. The floor was stone, uneven, scattered with the remains of planters and rusted tools. Near the back, a long stone bench sat beneath a broken panel of roof, vines coiling through its legs like snakes. Sloane approached slowly, eyes catching something carved along the edge of the bench. Letters. A name. S.M. Her own. Her breath caught. “This wasn’t here before.” “No,” Rhys said quietly. “But it will be.” She turned to him sharply. “You’re not making sense.”

"Your father just has spare princess apartments lying around?" "We're a royal family. We have spare everything." He stopped at a set of double doors carved with more of those crescent moons. "I had them prepare these for you specifically. Thought the symbolism might help you feel less like a prisoner." "I am a prisoner though. A really well-dressed one." "You're under protection. There's a difference." "Is there?" He pushed open the doors. I stopped breathing. The room was gorgeous. Huge windows overlooking the city. A bed that could fit five people. Tapestries on the walls showing women in armor, women on thrones, women commanding armies. All of them had the crescent moon mark on their face

"But I am excellent at picking winners." The laughter rose again. I wiped my eyes and looked around at the little crowd of people who had decided, in the space of one week, to bet their careers on me. "We will need a name," Elena said. "Crescent," I said, before I knew I would. "Crescent Atelier." Almost everyone nodded. Only Naomi tilted her head and said, "It is a moon." "It is a promise," I said. "That something thin and small can still grow."

Death draws me towards it like we have been attached with an unbreakable string. Maybe it's just a superpower in which I get the last chance to save the person in front of me or maybe it’s a curse. Particularly a Crimson curse, as I like to call it. Through the years the number of deaths I have seen is greater than my age. You would think that death doesn't affect me anymore. You are right to think that because that is what I had thought until 5 days ago.

"I am Alpha Ezekiel, this is the Bloodhound pack. And you are a rouge in my house, surrounded by my warriors, and my pack of 1500 men. You're not the one with the power here, I am. So when I ask a question I except it answered. Now. Who. Are. You?" I clenched my jaw in frustration, he was right. I had no power. No choice. He could do anything to me right now. And I wouldn't have any help or any way to stop him. I nearly reached at the thought. I was fucked. Royally. With that in mind I responded to his question; "Cecil." "And where did you came from? Are there any more like you?" He fired the questions in quick succession. "The East Coast, I travel alone and have not come across another fema

"Celeste, you know me. You know I wouldn't make this stuff up. Werewolves are real and one is attacking humans. Jack made us swear to leave you out of it, but you're in danger. More so than the rest of us. I don't want you walking around campus without knowing all the facts. Crescent wolves are the most dangerous kind." Something like recognition flared behind her eyes. "Crescent wolves?" Matt nodded, happy that she wasn't laughing and calling him crazy. "Most crescent wolves are okay once they've gotten past the initial stages of changing, but some of them crave the violence too much and they just never stop killing." "Jack said something about Crescent wolves the other day. But he told me