When The Night Falls By Nureyluna Novels & Stories

~Eira We planned by moonlight. The Cast-Outs had set up a makeshift war room in one of their underground chambers, the walls lit with fire runes and flickering crystal lamps. Maps were strewn across the stone table, drawn hastily from memory and patched together with scraps from stolen patrol blueprints. Nyra stood across from me, dressed in dark armor that reflected none of the flame around us. Her eyes, once guarded, now glowed with something close to respect. “We strike at night,” she said. “They won’t expect it. Not with Moon Shadow fallen and their prisoners secured.”

Nelly said as they all came together. "What does it say?" Austin asked as Ottiline took it to read it. "When Night comes, The full moon appears and reflects."

"A message." Luna looked at the photograph again. "Then someone wants us to find him." --- That night, Luna couldn't sleep. She stood by the window overlooking the city. Cars moved below. Buildings disappeared into the darkness. The city felt alive. Then she heard it. A howl. Luna froze. There were no wolves here. At least, there shouldn't be. Another howl came. Closer. Luna opened the window. Cold air rushed inside. She closed her eyes.

“Go back to sleep, mom. We’ll talk tomorrow. I just want to see you.” Catherine licked her dried lips, unbothered to object to her daughter, the omega sighed, “Okay. Fix yourself something in the fridge if you’re hungry. Okay?” “I will.” Giselle stepped inside the room. The Luna made her way to Catherine’s bed. Leaning in, the Luna placed a peck on her mom’s forehead, “Goodnight, mom.” “Goodnight, Gigi.”

Rhychard sat astride his Suzuki and stared up at Renny Saunders townhouse. The chilly, quiet night entirely swallowed the Friday sun. The sky was clear, the stars pin-pricking the night canopy. It was the first night of the Dark Moon. Tomorrow that moon would hold power, power Vargas would harness and use to open a Gateway to the Nether.

The garden was unrecognizable beneath the silvery gaze of the full Hunter’s Moon. Once vibrant flowers now drooped and curled as though wilting under the weight of Erika’s apprehension. Clouds rolled sluggishly across the sky, dimming the moonlight. Rows of darkly clad Lycans gathered, their golden eyes gleaming like embers in the shadows. The air was thick with expectation, and Erika’s skin prickled with an uneasy awareness of every gaze trained on her.

she called, voice clear and pure, “on this sacred night, we call upon You. Let Your light fall upon Your chosen son. Reveal to him the mate You have marked.” The pack answered in low, rhythmic words. Power stirred in the air, prickling over my skin. “Prince Lucian Nightbane,” Nyra said. “Step forward.” He did, shirtless now, only a simple chain and moonstone around his neck, loose black trousers at his hips. The runes on the altar stone brightened beneath his bare feet. The full moon pushed through thinning clouds. Silver light poured over the clearing, over Lucian’s bare chest, over the circle, over all of us.

I'm saying that werewolves have a stronger scent, and maybe only a few lycans are aware of her identity. Nora was happy to see the stars and the moon hanging in the sky. I asked her to name the stars and constellations. Nora pointed to the three shining stars as Sirius. Nora only remembers the shapes of the constellations Orion and Ursa Major. Nora was enthusiastic; I didn't focus on what she said; I just saw her face shining brightly, beating the moonlight. Every time I stand on a hill and look up at the sky, I will miss my parents. Tonight, I'm making new memories with Nora on this hill.

Because my gut tells me I won’t be looking at it for much longer. The bit the crazed Imogen-Luna Ruth hijacker mentioned about me dying freaked me out. What is the point of giving Zena up, rebuilding my honour and pride to end up as a bloodstain on the forest floor? Tomorrow night is the full moon. A blood moon. End of days. White Forest will draw the hybrids out of the city, only for Rising Star to rip out the guts and get Phillipe. That’s how Nikolai described it anyway. Yawning, I make my way up the castle steps to relieve the night shift, when Adrian, who looks as fresh as a newborn, shouts up, “Where were you!”

The word tomorrow doesn’t threaten now; it promises purpose, not failure. We rise slowly and check on Selin. Nyra softly adjusts her blanket; the tiny face doesn’t stir. The remaining candlelight brushes the edge of the cradle, while the moon casts a small bridge of its own between the bed and the window—as if the night itself were guarding this corner.