The Crimson Gardevoir Novels & Stories

"I know, right? Even if this buffoon is a delinquent, he doesn't have any tattoos." "I heard princesses should be trapped in towers." Crimson commented. "Well, you look more like the wicked mother that trapped the princess there." "Please don't ruin the peaceful atmosphere here." I stopped them from fighting again as I sighed. It was annoying, but I'm glad to see that Crimson was back to his normal self. More importantly, here's another person that suddenly gained colors. I really don't get why they're the specific people that have colors. There should be a reason why it's them, but I just don't understand what it could be. I have no idea what their common denominator is.

Peter dropped his hands. “You found out more quickly than I expected. That my dear is smart.” Avery looked at him from head to toe, she put her hands on the trigger. “I don't mind blowing off your head. Who are you?” She asked him, her head spinning from what's going on. He only smiled and moved. “I promise you, I will shoot you if you don't stand still and start talking” she said to him already pulling the trigger. “My Name is Arthur Crimson. The leader of the Crimson Red. Nice to meet you.” He said stretching his hands out for a handshake.

My heart fluttered and my breath caught in my lungs at the thought of how his ‘were’ form was just as handsome as his human form. His claws dug into the rogue's neck and, with one swipe, tore it wide open. The rogue went limp and I watched in awe as Crimson leaned over the dead rogue, his fur shimmered to a bright yellow and back to the deep hue of red right as the rogue gasped for his last breath before dying. “Crimson!” I called out to him, coming to my senses, wondering what it was I had just seen. This night was full of strangeness.

Pieces of wolves being torn to shreds, bodies of what seem to be human as well as non-human and pieces of what used to be the door, all has been scattered all over the house. He sighs while looking at the mess that was his home a few hours ago. He needs to clean this mess up. Fortunately, he knows the perfect man for this job too. He hasn’t needed his services in a long time, now, it seems it’s time to reach out to him. He walks up the stairs and makes his way into his study. He sits behind his desk, and he lifts his personal computer and puts it aside, revealing the carving on the middle of the desk of a raven taking flight with its wings spread out. The detailed carving is done very beauti

I had always assumed they just somehow knew, and that if they had a problem with something, we would be the first to know and suffer the price for upsetting them. Glancing away from Masika and the Spirits, I once more looked at Max. Any moment now, I’ll need to shatter the protective crystal around him. When that happens, we won’t have long before the Spirits have completely drained the life force from him. I just hope this ritual works, and that the phoenixes haven’t betrayed me. I don't believe they would ever stoop so low, as they have their dignity and pride much like my kind, but there is always that chance.

I was looking forward to no reminders. “There is my little wolf! Are you ready for our walk?” I nodded and the guard rolled his eyes. Gorm picked up right away. “Oh, I am so sorry there is the magnificent Crimson Priestess behold her in her glory.” He laughed and I also couldn’t help but smile while rolling my eyes.

The unnatural calm was the aftermath of death, a signature calling card of rogues. “It smells like rogues,” I said, inspecting faint paw prints embedded in the soil. We stood on the southern edge of the burned clearing, right along the border of a neighboring pack. “Rogues aren’t capable of this level of coordination,” Althea said doubtfully. She stood behind me in a protective stance, eyes never straying from the mission. “How did they gain access to crimson fire?” She was right. Only crimson fire could cause destruction on this scale, and it was obtained solely through a pack’s forgemaster or someone powerful enough to secure it. Rogues were neither. If my suspicion held true, they had hel

He stepped closer, his eyes unwavering. This wasn't the right place to pick a fight against him, but if he tried anything or planned anything to harm Adrian, I would surely put some bullets in his damn skull. For now, I had to keep my cool. I looked around the mansion, watching the maids decorate each corner. What was happening? "Know your place, Caleb, and don't try anything funny..." I warned, leaving his side and stepping out of the mansion, only to catch sight of Uncle Gavin standing outside, staring at some of the maids who were also decorating the outside walls of the mansion.

A pack bonding ceremony was sacred, yes, but it was also a celebration, and she would see that it was nothing short of perfection. “Lower that banner,” she commanded, her voice calm but carrying easily across the chamber. Servants scrambled to adjust the crimson tapestry, the golden wolf emblem gleaming brighter once the light caught it at the proper angle. “Better. The pack must feel the weight of their legacy the moment they step inside.” At her side, a steward read from a long list. “The moonstone has been delivered and set upon the altar. The cloaks arrive by nightfall. The musicians—”

You'd think after seventeen years, I'd be used to it. You'd be wrong. "Aria Blackwood," I read aloud, tracing the elegant calligraphy with my thumb. No one in Pine Hollow received mail with such beautiful writing. Hell, most of us were lucky if the bills arrived without coffee stains. The return address made my blood turn to ice: Crimson Moon Academy. "No," I whispered, my hands starting to shake. "No, no, no." But there it was, the official seal pressed into blood-red wax—a crescent moon wrapped around a wolf's head. Everyone knew what that meant. Every human between seventeen and nineteen knew what that meant.