White Moon The English Novels & Stories

he spat, “I will kill her in front of you—I will finish what I started.” He tensed to spring, so did I—but we never moved. A cold fell over the clearing, a deep, soul-sucking cold that froze the air in our lungs. The sounds of battle died, the clashing steel stopped, and a hush—heavier than silence—swallowed everything. From the trees, from the shadows, from the very air, they came: the moonwraiths. They drifted into the circle of trees, their pale, smoky forms flowing like water. The color drained from the world where they passed: the green moss turned grey, the blood on the ground turned black. The cold was not of winter—it was the cold of absence, of a void.

Whitemoon – Early Morning The wind was different. Not softer, not harsher — just… absent of something. Elise knew before she opened her eyes that the city had shifted overnight. She dressed quickly, pulling on her boots and wrapping her mother’s scarf loosely around her neck. The air tasted faintly metallic, like the seconds before lightning. She found Breya already at the Hollow’s edge, hair unbraided, eyes locked on the vines that had grown over the entrance. “They’re gone,” Breya said without turning.

A crescent moon nestled in faintly clouded glass, with three tiny snowflake crystals dangling from the edge like frozen stars. She reached out, fingers hovering just above it, heart tightening. WinterMoon. Her home. Or… the home she left behind. The sound of the crowd softened behind her. The music faded. That charm—that moment—was WinterMoon. The night skies. The quiet hush of snowfall on the hills. The scent of pine and frost and something wild. It was the silence of the woods and the hum of belonging. Her throat tightened. The warmth she’d felt only moments ago didn’t vanish—but it dimmed. The edges of it curled in on themselves. She didn’t touch the charm. She didn’t have to. Just lookin

"Don't remind me, yesterday was the first time I saw you in control. Your wolf didn't want to kill him" "Ivan is my childhood friend, I won't kill him. I was just mad" Skylar mumbled. Shailyn poked her arm. "Why are you rouse, pup?" "Do you know what a blue moon is?" She consulted, staring at Shailyn, watched as the fairy nodded. "A red moon represent the rise and fall of the Lycan Alpha King, a blue moon represent the rise of the King's Queen, Luna of all magical creatures" Skylar fluttered her eyes, frowning in complication. "I don't get it"

hell? There is white light all around her body and she is practically basking in it. The light is shimmering and I see it slowly spreading in the air. "Guys?! Come here, like right now." I shout and they are by me in a second. They gasp and inhale. "What the-" Vlad says. "Hell." Damien says. Damien takes a step ahead and black vines come out of nowhere and take a hold of his feet as soon as the light touches him.

Each path we chose, each challenge we faced, brought us closer to the ultimate revelation that awaited us. As the moon ascended to its zenith, casting an ethereal glow upon the ancient trees, we stumbled upon a hidden clearing bathed in moonlight. In the center stood a stone pedestal, adorned with intricate engravings and shimmering with an otherworldly aura. Intrigued, we approached the pedestal, our hearts pounding with anticipation. Suddenly, the engravings on the stone began to shimmer and shift, rearranging themselves into a cryptic message. Malachi's eyes widened as he read the words aloud, his voice filled with a mix of awe and trepidation. "Only those who truly understand the duality

No broad-shouldered shadow waiting to walk her to dinner. Rita frowned, checking her phone out of habit—then huffed. Right. No number. The dining hall was half-empty, the werewolf tables conspicuously vacant. "Where are all the—?" "Full moon," Freda said around a mouthful of bread. "They’re all in the woods behind campus. Turning, running, doing wolfy stuff." "Oh." Rita poked at her food, trying to ignore the twinge of disappointment. She'd become so used to Nathan's nightly presence.

A light split through the storm, brighter than the blood moon, purer than any spell cast by the gods. It descended—slowly, steadily—until it found Ava, suspended in the air like a breath between worlds. She didn’t move. Her eyes were shut, her arms loose by her sides. But the wind around her had stilled, as if the mountain itself dared not breathe. Then it began. From her back, two currents of energy burst—one of burning silver, the other deep crimson. They twisted and wove into each other, creating a spiral of twin flames that rose into the heavens. Her skin shimmered, turning pale gold beneath the silver moonlight.

Scotland, 1563 Witches Trial. ¶The Crescent moon stood dauntlessly in its peak, damping what remained of the cold night and her fierce haunting breeze. Its light glinted off the well at the middle of the town, carving its image perfectly upon the water's surface, crowning its presence with a boldly instigated silver aura: fierce, demanding and kingly.

The night is cold, the moon is bright. The palace halls are silent and only the howling of the winds at the night could be heard. The soft glow of the moon illuminated the palace halls. Basked in the luminous glow of the moon the palace marble floor glistened like a rare gem. Morrigan looks out of the window as she gulped the last of her glass of wine. Holding the locket that she wears close to her heart.