Novel & Cerita A Fate Inked In Blood Characters

“I’ll do it. Whatever it takes.” The healer’s gaze darted between them, calculating. “It may require both of you,” she admitted finally. She reached into her satchel and pulled out a slender dagger, its blade etched with runes that shimmered faintly in the torchlight. “Royal blood can only be stabilized by blood sacrifice, carefully balanced. Her veins reject ordinary blood, but the energy of kinship, bond, or fated ties may hold her lantern steady.” Marcus stiffened at the word fated. His eyes slid to Raine, then to Colin, wolf bristling with the thought of anyone else’s blood touching her. “Then mine. Take mine.”

I looked back at my silly poster on the screen, and my face froze. “Blood.” “What?” I didn’t realize I had said it out loud, the gears turning in my head drowning out the world around me. “It must be something in the blood.” Lucian’s face was wide open in confusion, waiting for explanation. “The Rogues were testing something on those teenagers, in the lab,” I was working out the theory as I spoke, “and they had IVs as well as other wires between them. They were Fated Mates.” “Okay…” “So they must share a blood type, another component connecting them to one another.”

I had to find a way to break this curse or I would die trying . We spent the rest of the morning in Althea’s room, poring over books that were older than both of us combined. Stacks of grimoires, ancient texts, and spellbooks covered her desk and the floor. The smell of parchment and ink filled the room as we flipped through page after page, searching for anything that might help us. “Most fate-related magic is tied to bloodlines,” Althea murmured, scanning a page with her finger. “Which makes sense considering Esther is involved.”

The top page was blackened, edges curled, but faint markings still stretched across the center, symbols jagged and cruel, nearly identical to the ones glowing in my palms. My knees buckled. I braced myself against the table, staring down at the impossible truth. The marks on my skin pulsed in rhythm with the faded ink, alive in a way the parchment no longer was. Kael’s hand slammed against the table beside mine, his breath ragged. “Do you see now?” His voice was half-snarl, half-plea. “It doesn’t matter what I burn. Fate finds another way. It’s written in blood. In you.”

Her sister not by blood but by fate. ~~~ THE END~~~

The so-called keepers of fate. I pressed my palm to the rune wall and felt the future trembling beneath my skin. Fate wasn’t a straight line. It was a script written by cowards. And scripts could be rewritten. The child’s blood was the key. I had avoided thinking about it for as long as I could. Pretended there was another way. But the truth had a cruel sense of humor. The prophecy was bound to blood. To lineage. To an innocent life that had never asked to be born into this war.

The cover was worn, the pages yellowed with age, but the script inside was surprisingly legible. She flipped through it, her breath catching as she read the first few lines: "To those who follow, beware. The Blood King walks a path of shadows, tethered to the Crimson Fated by fate and fire. Their union will either save us or doom us all." Aria’s heart raced as she scanned further. The entries spoke of Lucian Draevan, the Blood King—a name she recognized from old hunter lore. He was a vampire lord from centuries past, known for his ruthlessness and enigmatic disappearance after a great war.

He didn't know the poison that would kill him was already on her tongue, seeping into his bloodstream with every kiss. He didn't know she had inked his death into her skin three days ago. That his face was now part of the people she tattooed in her flesh. He was the only one strong enough to stop her father, the only king who'd promised the other kingdoms he would end the tyrant's reign. He didn't know the girl he was about to fuck against that war table was the same assassin who'd killed his sister. Who slit his general's throat and left her mark at the foot of the Thornborn Altar.

"They’re memories! Every Scribe who died with a grudge against the Vane family... they’ve been summoned!" Dante’s shadow-wings beat against the air, sending waves of violet force into the encroaching ink-snakes. But every time he struck them down, they simply pooled back together and rose again. "I can't kill what is already dead, Elara! You’re the one with the Ink! You have to talk to them!" "Talk to them? She’s trying to drown me!" I ducked as a whip of black ink lashed out, narrowly missing my neck.