All Chapters of My Blood Wizard System : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

165 Chapters

The new girl rides in on wheels

CHAPTER 1The new girl rides in on wheelsFreshman Year – Lakeside High School, Hot Springs, AR Fall Semester, August 26 2025 – First DayThe mist didn’t chase me from Nashville. It was already here, curled around the Rams marquee like it had been waiting three years for the right set of lungs to breathe it in.Mom’s old Tahoe coughed to a stop in the drop-off loop. “First day of high school, Celeste Valentina Morau. Try not to break any hearts before lunch.” I tugged the hood of my white-and-pink hoodie lower over my platinum bangs. “Hearts are overrated. Bones heal faster.” She laughed, kissed my forehead, tasted like sweet tea, and goodbye. I kicked the door shut, slapped my skateboard to the asphalt, and rolled.Forty-seven steps from curb to front doors if you walk. I counted twenty-three pushes on urethane wheels instead.Inside, Lakeside High smelled like floor wax and boiled peanuts. Lockers slammed like gunshots. A banner screamed RAMS Verses. MALVERN – FRIDAY! in b

Friday night lights,Freshman red zone

CHAPTER 2Friday night lights, Freshman red zoneThe spiral behind my ear started itching at 6:12 p.m., right when the marching band hit the first downbeat of “Louie Louie.”I was crouched under the bleachers lacing my Vans tighter, skateboard wedged between my knees like a shield. Lakeside’s freshman football team was warming up on the practice field behind the stadium—real game didn’t start until the varsity finished, but freshmen still got to play under the same lights for one quarter. Tradition, apparently.Tradition smelled like burnt popcorn and teenage desperation.Brittany Rae Lynn bounced past in her tiny navy skirt, megaphone swinging.“Celeste! You’re coming to the game, right? We need bodies in the student section or Coach kills us.”“I’m working,” I lied, tapping the Canon AE-1 hanging around my neck. “Photo lab assignment. Mr. Bathory wants action shots.”She pouted glossy pink. “Fine, but save me one of you doing something cute on that board later.”She cartwheeled away

The Locket

CHAPTER 3The LocketMonday, 7:03 a.m.The spiral behind my ear woke me up throbbing like a second heartbeat.I rolled out of bed, hoodie still on from the game, and found the locket on my nightstand exactly where I’d dropped it after Mom handed it over last night.“Grandma Elowene’s,” she’d said, voice too casual. “She wanted you to have it when we finally settled somewhere permanent.”Permanent. Right.The locket was heavier than it looked: blackened silver, Gothic Romanian filigree curling like frozen smoke around a single oval of deep-red garnet. In the center, etched so small I needed a loupe to read it, Japanese kanji:森羅Morau – “to receive.”Grandma Elowene had lived in Kyoto for thirty years. Married a Japanese photographer, never came home. Died last spring.I’d never met her.But the locket fit against my sternum like it had been waiting for my ribcage to grow into it.I clipped it on under the hoodie and skated to school through mist so thick the lake looked like it was bo

Grandma's Voice in My Head

CHAPTER 4Grandma’s Voice in My HeadTuesday, 9:47 p.m.I couldn’t wait another second.I kicked the front door so hard the hinges rattled. Skateboard clattered across the hardwood. Mom was at the kitchen island slicing tomatoes like nothing was wrong. Dad was on the couch pretending to watch a Razorbacks rerun.Both froze when they saw my face.“Celeste Valentina, shoes off the—”“No.” I yanked the hoodie down, platinum hair sticking to my lip gloss. The locket burned a perfect circle against my skin. “We’re doing this now.”I slapped the evidence on the island like a crime-scene tech:- The touchdown print where eight coyote-mist versions of me wore the locket.- The cracked Kyoto negative Seras had thrown at me.- Friday night’s sideline shot—Mr. Bathory with no reflection.- The envelope from my skateboard truck: me asleep, closet door open two inches, red eyes glowing in the dark.- And finally, the locket itself, mirror splintered, garnet weeping something thicker than blood.Mo

Blood on the Grip Tape

CHAPTER 5Blood on the Grip Tape3:33 a.m.The storm cracked the sky open like a negative held to lightning.I was already awake, locket pulsing so hard it bruised my sternum.Grandma Elowene’s voice slid into my skull the second I opened the front door, cool and Kyoto-calm.“Child, the hour is thin. Ride. The lake is calling its Receiver.”Rain lashed sideways. I didn’t bother with a hoodie. Just Vans, soaked jeans, and the locket swinging like a pendulum.Skateboard under my arm, I kicked into the street.Wheels hissed on wet asphalt, glowing faint blue—new trick, apparently.The storm tasted like ozone and hot springs.“Left at the dam road,” Grandma whispered. “He’s waiting.”I carved hard, tail scraping sparks.“Who?”“The one who drinks without breathing. The one who taught me how to bleed the mist in 1951. Julian Bathory is older than the lake, dragă. And he is starved for a Morau throat.”The high-school parking lot appeared through the downpour—empty except for one black 1960

Ruby Morning Co-op Sunrise

CHAPTER 6Ruby Morning, Co-op Sunrise6:12 a.m.The shower ran scalding, but the bite on my neck still throbbed like a second heartbeat.I tilted my head under the spray, watching pink water swirl down the drain.When I wiped the fog off the mirror, my eyes stared back ruby red.Not glowing.Not contacts.Just pure, deep, permanent ruby—like someone had replaced the crystal-blue with liquid garnet overnight.Grandma Elowene’s voice drifted through through the steam, quiet and satisfied.“First binding always leaves a mark, dragă. The eyes are yours now. Forever. The vein likes its Receivers to wear its color.”I touched the two silver-scabbed punctures just below the spiral tattoo.Julian’s teeth marks looked like crescent moons.My ruby eyes looked like I’d been born with them.I shut the water off.The color stayed.Downstairs, Mom dropped a spatula when I walked into the kitchen wearing my Lakeside Rams hoodie, platinum hair dripping, eyes the exact shade of fresh blood.Dad’s coff

Two Wizards,One Spell

CHAPTER 7Two Wizards, One SpellFour Days Before Homecoming, Behind the BleachersTuesday, three days after the binding, four days before Homecoming.I was cutting behind the bleachers to avoid Brittany’s cheer-practice ambush when I heard it: a tiny, panicked chirp.A sparrow lay on the concrete, one wing bent wrong, chest heaving.The mist curled around it like it was trying to help and failing.Grandma Elowene’s voice drifted in, soft as morning fog.“Mist and light, dragă. Never blood. That was never our way. Reach.”I crouched.The bird didn’t flinch when I scooped it into my palms.Its heartbeat fluttered against my lifeline like a trapped moth.I didn’t know the words, but Grandma did.They spilled out of me in Romanian and Japanese at the same time, overlapping like double exposure:“Lumină lină, ceață blândă—ridică aripa frântă.”“Yasashii kiri, hikari yo—tsubasa o naose.”The mist answered.It rose from the cracks in the concrete, silver and warm, wrapping the bird like cot

Home Coming and the Monday After

CHAPTER 8Homecoming and the Monday AfterHomecoming, 11:59 p.m., The Vote WinsFriday, 11:59 p.m.The bonfire roared thirty feet high, shaped like a coyote with two heads and one tail.Its eyes were real garnets—Seras’s and mine—set into the logs by Remy’s pack hours earlier.The entire stadium smelled like cedar smoke, burnt sugar, and two-stroke exhaust.We stood on the fifty-yard line, side by side.Me: platinum waves loose under a black beanie, ruby eyes catching every flame.Seras: red streak glowing like a fuse, black-garnet eyes steady, maple pendant blazing crimson against her collarbone.Both of us wearing identical lockets that pulsed in perfect sync—森羅 kanji now permanently burned into a flaming maple crest on Seras’s, silver spiral on mine.The marching band had stopped.Cheerleaders frozen mid-pyramid.The entire crowd held its breath.Because the vote had just been announced.Principal Hargrove’s voice still echoed over the PA:“By student and faculty vote, your 2025 Ho

Dam Road, 100 mph and the Ledger

CHAPTER 9Dam Road, 100 mphThe dam road unspooled ahead like a black ribbon under a bleeding sunset.Remy’s YZ250F screamed beside me, blue frame a blur, his coyote grin flashing every time he risked a glance.Ninety-five.Ninety-eight.One hundred.My board didn’t have a speedometer, but the wind howled like it was trying to rip my hoodie off.Hot-pink grip tape glowed under my Vans, four-point spirals pulsing in time with my heartbeat. The wheels were starting to glow with heat.It was so loud like I was riding on a jet turbine.The pack fanned out behind us—eleven bikes in perfect V-formation, engines snarling like wolves on a hunt.Seras rode point on QUEENS 7, red streak whipping behind her like a comet tail.Her maple pendant blazed, flames licking the edges without burning her jacket.Remy edged ahead by a nose.I felt the vampire blood sing.I crouched lower, thighs burning, shadow magic threading through the wheels like dark lightning.The board leapt—not an ollie, not a tric

Three Heartbeats One Crown

CHAPTER 10Three Heartbeats One CrownThe mist tightened—a living noose around the turnout.Headlights dimmed.Engines died.Even the crickets went silent.The drowned king rose higher.Water streamed off stone shoulders in sheets.Chains clanked like funeral bells.His crown—three rusted points—tilted toward me.Remy’s growl vibrated through the asphalt.He was full shift now: no half-coyote compromise.Shoulder height to my chest, nearly the size of a horse, silver-black fur rippling like liquid metal.The rest of the pack followed—eleven beasts the size of ponies, eyes glowing ember-orange, circling the king in a ring of fangs.Seras’s flames crowned her head in a living halo.QUEENS 7 lay forgotten; she stood barefoot on cracked asphalt, maple pendant screaming light.Julian stayed between me and the king, but his ruby eyes were wide.“Celeste,” he whispered.“Whatever you’re about to do—don’t hold back.”The king’s stone mouth opened.No tongue.Just darkness and the smell of dro

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