What Is The Ordeal In Crescent City の小説・ストーリー

She pestered and pleaded and even though I had already prepared to say no right from the moment she offered it, I agreed. We strolled down the narrow forest and though she was oblivious of how still and strangely quiet the forest was, jumping around and fishing out weird-looking leaf that she called ingredients for the herbs. The moon was a crescent one, shining the little light it offered into the still forest. My mind wasn't settled with the way the forest stilled with no sign of even an owl. And as I followed Aurora right behind, I watched my side and back of anything that could try to attack us.

"You never gave up on me." "I never will." They arrived at the top of a broad hill. Spread out beneath them, indistinct in the distance, they were able to discern the outline of the Crescent Capital. The towers. The blackened gates. The looming stormclouds twining above like snakes. Krishna gazed down upon the city that was once her crown. “I will face them all,” she said. “Miyal. Perfera. The council. The curse. Every wound they gave me. I’ll carry it to the heart of the storm.”

There was something deeper—something ancient—and she could feel its pull in the marrow of her bones. Yet, there was something else, a flicker of hope. A whisper that had reached her across the void of the Citadel's cursed grounds. The Crescent Rebellion—a group of prisoners who had fought the Order from within their very cells. These rebels, those who had been imprisoned by the Order for their defiance, had not been broken. They had survived, hidden away in the shadowed depths of the Citadel, their resistance a quiet spark amidst the darkness.

I doubt that Alpha Jordan is in any shape to swim after his tumble down the stairs. Zabrina will abandon her injured father and make a break for it. I just know it. Crescent City is a large industrial town with lots of factories and apartment buildings where the factory workers live. I try to make sure that everyone within my kingdom is able to make a nice living, and while it’s not possible for me to micromanage all of the packs—like Willow pack—I do make sure that the workers within my own pack lands, the ones directly around the castle, are taken care of.

One by one, the shamans placed objects of power before the moonstone altar bones, crystal shards, locks of hair from ancestors. "The Phoenix awakens when the Crescent falls," intoned the oldest shaman. Her voice was like cracking bark. "A sister broken, a throne betrayed. Fire and silver. Truth and death." I felt Ophelia shiver. After the ritual, Ophelia and I remained behind. "If Ezren is the Phoenix," she said softly, "then who is the Crescent?" “Elira,” I said. “But what if it isn’t just her?” That night, sleep evaded me. I walked through the halls, memories clawing at my thoughts. The lives I’d taken. The blood spilled in my name. Were we better rulers? Or merely survivors with better we

With brutal force, he tore into him, not with elegance but with wrath, blood splattering across the obsidian floor as he fed like a beast unchained. The sound of tearing, gurgling, and the gushing rhythm of a mortal heart filled the chamber. And then silence. Only crimson lips, dripping. Only hunger, sated. Elder corvane finally spoke after so many hours of silence, and more elders were already present: [we all stan that, "The CRESCENT OATH RITE ritual will proceed.”] [“Let them defy us. It will only make their fall more exquisite. And when ysolde supposed reincarnated is bound and the blood is spilled, even Kaelith will see that the old ways are unbreakable.”]

This was the moment of truth. Nyra’s breath came in jagged gasps beneath the Sacrificial Moon’s pale slit. The courtyard’s torches had long since been extinguished, leaving only the trembling glow of Celena’s blood-red crystal to illuminate the stony assembly. Each flicker of its light cast Nyra’s daughter’s wide silver eyes in shifting hues, hope, fear, and destiny all dancing across her small face. Celena’s staff thrummed. “To break the curse,” she declared, “you must endure the Oracle’s Trial. A mother’s love will be tested by three gates: Fear, Sorrow, and Death. Only by passing each can you return to claim your child’s life.”

"Us. Free roads. Protecting what matters. The fight goes on but so does life." Ezra leaned close. "Life with you. Pact holds forever." Thomas joined. "Pact includes me. We track leaders. Free more kids. Simple." Dane looked at the stars. "Simple and right. The last site destroyed. Victory here. More ahead." They talked strategy late. "Next city east," Thomas said. Ezra planned. "Contacts there. Watch for new rivals." Students shared stories. "They tested us at night. Forced the moon pull."

"But the Nomads tracked her trail — and it didn't stop at the Silverwood boundary. It went further, past the Ridges." "That's beyond Silverwood territory," Greystone said. "And that," Deimon cut in, "is exactly the problem." He rose slightly, leaning on the table with both hands. "Beyond the Ridges marks the edge of Crescent jurisdiction. Any pursuit past that point requires formal process, diplomatic passage, the cooperation of packs this council has no business disturbing. We start pressing in that direction, we're not just looking for one missing Luna — we're rubbing shoulders with clans best left undisturbed."

He ignored it. "We need the blue flowers now." I said. "They only grow near running water." We walked toward a creek. The sun was setting. Roland walked ten paces ahead. He scanned the trees. His hand never left his sword. "We are running out of time Alaric." I said. I felt the pressure in my chest. "The journey back will take hours. The competition starts at sunrise. If we miss the opening ceremony, the Moon Crescent Pack wins by default." "We will make it, Sophie." Alaric said.