Wolves Of Blood Moon Novels & Stories

I promise, knowing how little the promise is worth. She moves the boy behind her. Only then do I see the crude drawings scrawled in the dust near where he sat. Stick figures, drawn with a child's impatience—three of them, all large, triangular heads, each with exaggerated, fanged mouths. Their bodies are wolfish, or what a boy imagines a wolf must be: hunched, heavy at the shoulder, legs that end in claws. One figure holds a stick, or maybe a sword. The last is bigger than the others, looming above a crowd of smaller shapes—people, presumably, but every one drawn with a red X where the heart should be. The mother follows my gaze. "He says the wolves walk upright, like men. They come at night

The giant wolf holiday where the moon turns magically red and everyone gathers together to thank the Moon Goddess for things. Last life I'd watched it from a distance because standing around praying never seemed like a productive use of my time. And it still doesn't. I'm an atheist. “The Bloodmoon marks the night the Moon Goddess first blessed our kind,” Alaric says, setting down his fork, the warm light from the chandelier catching against his watch as he folds his hands loosely on the table. “Every year wolves gather to give thanks for the year behind them and seek blessings for the year ahead. Every pack gathers. Families return home. Oaths are renewed. Disputes are settled before the moo

"Thousands of years ago, long before the rule of King Alastair, the beginning of the moon goddess creations. Her first creatures were known as the Pure Blood Lycans, a set of wolves that walked and ran on their two instead of four, taller than the normal height of a human, faster, stronger, smarter, and a built body structure, most described them as monsters for their uniqueness but they were her pride and Joy.

She had long heard of those tragic romance stories, and how the star-crossed lovers would be united with death. Witches like her were not capable of love because of the brutality of their destiny. Living life to the end, all alone and destitute. The fate of her aunt and grandaunt was not unknown to her. They had lived a life of celibacy. And she strongly believed she was about to undergo the same. She lay back and relaxed under the moons. It was marvellous how she seemed to feel mightier during a full moon, and besides, eight moons were better than one. She figured that the presence of the moons greatly enhanced their power and also, her sensuality.

"Annie?" It was such a strange sight, but a wolf actually jumped to behind them as soon as Annie's name came out of Asteria's mouth. Annie looked at the wolves than at Asteria. "You shouldn't try to do something so openly in front of them. Those are different from the wolves we have encountered on our way here. I also don't expect that pure blood to appear here while we are still in the outskirts area of the mountain." Asteria was confused. Pure blood? But judge by their size, it must be true. They seemed to a completely different species than those smaller wolves they had encountered on their way here.

He said, something that I already knew, and I smiled at him. "Is that all?" I asked, and he nodded. "That is all on your weaknesses," He said, and I sighed, but he looked worried, and I had to ask him why. "We are fighting with witches, and witches can cause the blood moon to appear. The only divine wolf that is powerful during a blood moon is Haimon," he said, and I understood his fear. The goddess had sent the wrong wolf for the job. "You need to hide or burn the books, Luna, so it does not fall into the wrong hands," he said, and I nodded.

Scene 1: Beneath the Rebirth Moon The Rebirth Moon loomed enormous and alive, casting silver and crimson light over the Sanctuary. It shimmered like an open wound in the heavens, its pale glow fractured with veins of red, as though the universe itself held its breath. Wolves from every surviving pack had gathered here, seeking refuge and unity in the wake of endless wars. Light wolves with glistening ivory fur mingled uneasily with the dark-furred Eclipse wolves, their eyes wary, their paws twitching with centuries of ingrained hostility.

We would have plenty of time for talking during the trip to Grandmoon. Or not. When we cleared the trees, we were suddenly aware of how late it had gotten. In fact, night had fallen and there was a giant red moon staring down at the two of us. I was aware of all the wails and howls surrounding the territory. It had been ages since there had been a blood moon, and it always affected the wolves in unique ways. In fact, I read in books that oftentimes a blood moon signified the arrival of special wolves that possessed powers far beyond that of a normal wolf.

But they demanded a price…a sacrifice. When the moon was eclipsed four times in two seasons, there was said to be blood on the moon. It happened once a century. On that night, the wolves entered the clearing, a forbidden, desolate stretch of land between the village and the forest that separated us from both the dark force and the vengeful wrath of the beasts we’d created. As the blood moon rose, the wolves entered the clearing to claim their sacrifice. Whomever the village chose was never seen or heard from again.

The moon hung low in the night sky, casting a glow over the dense forest that was filled with leaves. Shadows danced among the trees, and the air was thick. Noises could be heard, the smell of furs also lingered in the air. Freya stood at the edge of the clearing, her amber eyes scanning the gathering wolves. She was no ordinary wolf. Her fur was a mix of gold and black, a testament to her dual heritage. Half werewolf, half witch, she straddled two worlds, yet belonged to neither. As most of her werewolf companions saw her as.