Moonblood Stories

Mit dem Sturz im Jahre 2088 endete für Kibou und ihren besten Freund das normale Leben. Sie hörten auf zu altern und so sahen beide wie sich die Welt entwickelte.. Doch die beiden wussten nie, weshalb sie nun so waren wie sie sind. Sie wussten nicht, was für eine ungeheuerliche Last auf ihren Schultern lag.

"THERE'S A NAME BURIED INSIDE YOUR BLOOD. AND WHEN IT RISES....𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑳𝑫 𝑾𝑰𝑳𝑳 𝑲𝑵𝑬𝑬𝑳 ."_ He was supposed to be untouchable. Jeon Jungkook-global idol, golden boy, heartbeat of millions. And she? She was no one. Just Y/N. A fan. A girl. A student with brown eyes and ordinary lungs. Until the forest swallowed them whole. Until the sky cracked. Until something ancient opened its eyes... and remembered them. There, in a realm forgotten by time- the prophecy gets revealed: The heir of the burning sun, marked by eclipse fire. The blood of the silver moon, chosen by the soul of moon's magic. Jungkook And Y/N? Start to see. to hear. TO FEEL. On starlight. On memory. On truth. And then- her name breaks through her like a blade to the chest. "You are not Y/N."..."You are not Jungkook." 𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕚𝕣 𝕓𝕝𝕠𝕠𝕕 𝕣𝕖𝕞𝕖𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕨𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕚𝕣 𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕕 𝕙𝕒𝕤 𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕘𝕠𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕟. The prophecy awakens. The dark lord rises. And two names that were never meant to meet... are suddenly all that stands between salvation and ruin. "𝑽𝒂𝒍𝒕𝒉ô𝒓..." "𝑺𝒆𝒍𝒆ñ𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒚𝒂.... " --- He was born of sunshine. She was made of moonlight. And when they bleed- the galaxies go silent. ✧ 𝑀𝒶𝑔𝒾𝒸. 𝑀𝓎𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓎. 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝑜𝓈. 𝒮𝒶𝓈𝓈. ✧ This is the story of Jeon Jungkook and Y/N - two stars destined to collide in a world that forgot how to shine.

Moonlit poems to help others remember what's important... [Originally titled "Finding Earth"]

In this story the character is still Death. A 19 year old Student at Darlington University. He is a Beta in this pack and his wolf hasn't matured yet. Death is the type of person that keeps to himself, but at times he can get angry and rowdy. Athena (His Future Mate) is Deaths best friend in the pack along with Atari.

We had never been equals. Even before the executions and hunting parties, "moon-blood" was a word children used to pick on each-other and were scolded for saying. There was never a funeral when a moon-blood died. We were scum, scamps, scapegoats. Always had been. Still, we used to just be outcasts; tolerated, but never given the same privileges as other commoners. But then the "defending" got out of hand. Suddenly a moon-blood's death wasn't just excusable; it was a trend, a right of passage, an honor to kill a moon-blood. Men began making their livings as blood-hunters and spliced a whole new rank of aristocrats, courtship even. What the provinces were digging themselves into became nothing short of genocide. So we kept our blood to ourselves, and who could blame us? The moon blood became a secret, and those who had it kept quiet. Which of course, only made things more complicated.