CRIMSON KING IS A CONTINUATION OF THE APK STORYLINE.

Continuing the story ...

Hey guys! I'm just posting the synopsis and prologue on here as well in an effort to pull readers over to CK!
CK will be set in the same universe as APK and continue to answer the questions left unresolved at the end of APK.

I hope you will head over and give these new characters a chance 🥰
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Synopsis

Iris is a Lycanthrope. A moon-child, born into a world fantasy and dreams.
However, raised in isolation, she has no desire to venture beyond the comfort of what she knows and loves.

But beyond the borders of home, the Earth Kingdom - recently released from banishment - is changing, and this change brings a new threat - a race that was suppressed, and now thirsts for revenge.

And somewhere far beyond, something is calling to her, something that exists beyond reason.

When fate comes knocking at her door with eyes as cold as a snow filled sky, will she be prepared to meet the one who waits for her on the other side? He is part of a nightmare she had no desire to face, but he holds the key to her very soul.

And as the escalating war between Lycans and Shifters threatens to harm what Iris holds most dear, how will she answer the call of battle?

One such as Iris was never meant to sit on the sidelines. Her crown is waiting for her - she just needs to reach out and claim it.

From the Author of 'A Pirate's Kiss' comes the next instalment of the much loved series.
You thought the battle was over?
It was just beginning.

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THE CRIMSON KING

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'There seemed to be two worlds,
The one before you,
And the one
A f t e r'
- unknown

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Prologue | One Snowy Night

Her memories began with the colour red.

Red was the colour of the blood that stained her hands and the snow that covered the forest clearing around her. Even the sky and the light from the moon that shone down seem to be tinted with the gory shade. The huge shape that lay sunken into the snow was a darker shade of red, but it was red all the same.

She stumbled forwards, her small hands stretching out to touch the wet, matted fur. A word tugged at the back of her mind and then faded away.

She turned to look up at the figure that loomed behind her. Blood dripped from his hands and into the snow below. His chest was bare, but steam rolled off him in waves, curling and dancing through the frigid night air, before evaporating without a trace.

A mane of blonde hair, silver in the moonlight, tumbled about his shoulders wildly, the ends of it sticky with blood from the surrounding massacre. He was much, much taller than her, and his face was hidden in shadow. His fingers twitched once, and then once again.

She stumbled towards him through the snow, bumping up against his legs. She sniffed a little, reaching her hands up towards him, her clear grey eyes unconditionally trusting.

Although she had no memories of this man before he had appeared, a collaboration of her head and her heart told her that this person would help her. Her assumption was proved correct as the man bent down and swiftly scooped her up in his arms, holding her securely against his chest.

Her small hands left bloody prints on his skin but he either did not notice, or care. She clung to his shoulder, her hands tangling in his long, golden hair. His skin was so warm, and she felt the heat begin to seep through the numb cold that cloaked her, her breath fogging in the air.

Now that she was up higher, her view of the surrounding landscape opened up. The clearing in which the pair stood, was littered with bodies, some more distinguishable than others and although something inside her screamed for her to look away, she couldn't seem to close her eyes.
Herself, the man who held her, and the largest shape – the one she had touched before – seemed to be in the centre of the massacre, the smaller bodies scattered in a rough circle around them.

Shuddering suddenly, she buried her face in the man's hair, peeking out beneath the thick mane to glance up at him. His face was highlighted by the moon, but his eyes were dark, his mouth set in a tight, thin line. She could feel his rage simmering still, like hot coals smouldering just beneath the surface of his skin.

His anger was directed at the dead bodies around him and although she didn't know how she knew, she just did, as surely as she knew that he was good, and the ones lying motionless in the red snow were bad.

He carried her forward until they came to a halt in front of the large shape. A hand came up to press her small head further into his shoulder. He was telling her not to look and she resigned to his touch without protest, burying her face into his neck where she felt his pulse beating the rhythm of his heart into her ears.

The man looked down at the body of the female Lycan, bitterness and anger consuming his heart. She was well and truly dead, her spine had been removed – the only way to kill a Lycan – and it lay behind her like a coiled snake in the snow, a sickening sight. Her fur was drenched with blood, and even in the bright moonlight, he could not see the smallest patch of the original silver shining through.

She had fought to the death, of this, he was certain. The bodies that piled up around him were numbers that could only be achieved by a Mother fighting for the survival of her child. Although he had killed more with his own hands, this was a sight that truly sent chills down his spine. If he closed his eyes he could almost see the viciousness with which she would have defended her daughter, the strength of her love that granted her the courage to stand alone against such numbers, to know that she would not win and yet to fight anyway, to be torn apart limb from limb and to stay standing through it all.

His grip on the child tightened.

"Come," His voice was rough as he spoke, as though he had not used it for a long time. He did not seem to care whether or not the girl could understand him. "We must leave now."

The pair drifted silently into the forest without another word, the darkness from the trees swallowing them whole until their presence had vanished entirely.

In the clearing the moon shone a spotlight down on the female Lycan's body, as though lamenting the loss of one of its children. A cold wind blew, gathering a pack of dark clouds in its wake and then, almost tenderly, it began to snow, covering the gory red of the clearing in a delicate shade of white.

And so, the scene was erased.

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