The Crimson King Novels & Stories

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."

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.

The candles went out. Author’s Note - The Crimson Veil began as a late-night idea about what might happen if logic met temptation in its purest, most dangerous form. Evelyn’s curiosity is my own: the need to understand what we fear, even when it leads us somewhere we can’t easily return from. This story mixes gothic atmosphere, mystery, and forbidden connection—a slow burn between intellect and instinct. Every chapter was written and refined by hand, inspired by old literature and the darker side of human emotion.

"Before the empires, before the written word, there was the Void a space between dimensions where nothing existed, not light, not sound, not even time. I wasn't born, Andrea. I was a scrap of consciousness pulled from that nothingness, woven together by the first architects of this world to serve as a tether between the living and the dead. I was never meant to be a king. I was meant to be a lock." He looked down at his own hands, those long, lethal fingers that had shaped empires and crushed bones. "The title King is a lie the world tells itself to make sense of things. In truth, I am the Custodian of the Crimson Pact. That isn't just a fancy name for a crown. It’s a literal, heavy burden o

All because of one girl, the Crimson Bride that his brother wanted for centuries and never had it. But screw his brother, the Crimson Bride is his now. That means the crown of Vampire King is his too. But...Zayne never cared about it. And what's good being King anyway? He'd take over the mortal world and let it be his playground, just like in the good days of 300 years ago. But...it's not the same.

They were all waiting, lined up like soldiers. Four people. Two women. Two men. Plus Viktor’s right-hand snake, Aleksander. I’d done my research on him, charming smile, deadly hands. The kind of guy who’d flirt while picking your coffin. And thensugar-coateds. Viktor Dragovic. Standing tall at the top of the steps like some mafia king. Black clothes from head to toe, silver rings on his fingers like trophies from the people he’d destroyed. And those cold gray eyes locked right on me.

She hated his guts and rejected him, but the king didn’t let her do as she pleased, so he defies her and takes her against her own will. Will they tolerate themselves as they live together, or will each try to kill themselves for the hate they feel? Will the ruthless king have a change of heart when he finds out who she truly is? And will she believe that love truly exists? Meet King Nikolas, The King of the Ruby Crown. And Rose, a queen who became a rogue since the moment she lost her memories and home.

"Why are all of you here?" An elderly woman got up. Her eyes glistened like showers of silver. "The Crimson Star has been spotted in the sky. The Voice has been heard by us. The King of Crimson has risen. I gave a headshake. She is a newborn. Only a baby. Don't refer to her that way. However, they continued. Softly at first, they started chanting. "The Crimson King... The Crimson King..." With his sword at his belt, Killian hurried over to join me. "Retrench yourself. We wish to avoid any problems.

They parted like the Red Sea, lowering their weapons and bowing their heads in absolute, terrifying reverence. ​Through the parted ranks walked a figure. ​He was impossibly tall, unnaturally slender, draped in robes of liquid shadow. His skin was the color of bleached parchment, his eyes entirely black voids. Resting upon his pale brow was a jagged, twisted crown forged of fused silver and Lycan skulls. ​The Crimson King. ​The ancient god of the vampires had returned to the surface. ​The King did not look at Alaric. He did not look at the screaming civilians. His black eyes locked directly onto Elara.

As for King Stefan, it seemed that he was shocked to see that there was a warrior who had a very intimidating aura even to him. "You'd better let her go, King Stefan," the Crimson Warrior spoke to King Stefan. King Stefan bared his fangs as he readied himself to attack. To everyone's shock, the Crimson Warrior then howled loudly. That howl even managed to make me kneel because of how intimidating that was. As an Alpha wolf, this howl was very strong. Was it because I was still a new Alpha that his howl intimidated me? 'Who is actually the Crimson Warrior? Why does he have such a threatening aura?' I thought to myself.