Lunar Strings
  • Reads 482
  • Votes 32
  • Parts 8
  • Time 1h 23m
  • Reads 482
  • Votes 32
  • Parts 8
  • Time 1h 23m
Ongoing, First published Oct 09, 2018
The Magi were nothing but legends . . . until she became one. 

⋆ ☾ ⋆

Pria is a fighter-in-training for the resistance against the empire.  After years of being held back by injuries and illness, Pria finally has her chance to shine as the skilled Moon warrior that she is. That is, until an attack on their training grounds threatens to turn her into a martyr. A red-clad stranger runs to her aid. His robes are the color of the Magi. But that cannot be so, because the Magi are not real . . . Are they? And in a world where every man and woman wears their hair long, his shaved head is blasphemous. While Pria doubts the existence of Magi at all, she is unable to deny him any longer when he uses a strange red glow to revive her.  

The result of her resurrection? 
Pria is now believed to be the second-to-last living Magi in the world. 

The cost? 
Half of his soul. 

With their lives now bound to one another, Pria finds herself wondering who she can trust, and more importantly, whether or not her newfound position in this war is a blessing . . . or a curse. 

Copyright © 2014 Anne McKae
All Rights Reserved
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43 parts Complete

Two months have passed since the conversation between Princess Elise and Grace. With the appearance of EleniumFruyes, Haren starts training to control his powers in preparation for the inevitable war fast approaching. After meeting up with an old ally, it's time to fight back against the growing conflict that threatens to change the fate of the world as they know it. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<preview>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Falling. Darkness. Silence. Nothing. Then, he stopped. Now, he was standing in a black void surrounded by echoing shouts and cries as pitch black flames lapped at his feet like breaking waves on a shore. Muffled shouts reverberated through the nothingness around him. A burning heat drilling through the back of his eyes as the flames around him threatened to consume his very being. Feeling something wet and sticky, he looked down at his clawed hands to see them painted crimson. A shadowed figure crumpled at his feet. It looked familiar.