Romans & histoires Avenger Of Blood In The Bible

It didn’t get its name for nothing. Nicholas walked with Callie at the front of the group, keeping the Holy Lance in hand. Beelzebub’s blood had stained the wood black and she tried to ignore it. She didn’t know how the Horseman’s blood would affect the spear. Would it twist it from being divine to damned? Or was the Messiah’s blood still more powerful? She didn’t know and it bothered her. Until they could get to Lucifer’s Grace, it was their best weapon against any demon they might come across.

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.

Rowan’s silver knife flashed through the smoke and cut across Caleb’s arm as he reached for him. Blood fell onto the snow. The ground opened beneath Alexander. As he dropped into the dark, the shrine voice whispered from below, “The second debt accepts the king’s blood.”

The Dravens danced death in tandem, one striking while the other bound the fallen in chains of illusionary torment. But it was Ava who turned the tide. As the last bishop raised a staff crackling with soul-fire, she stepped forward, Alexander's eyes locking onto the flame. "Remember the Thirteenth," she whispered, and pricked her thumb on her dagger, smearing a single drop of blood across our son's forehead. The bishop's spell recoiled, inverting into a maelstrom that flayed him from the inside out, his screams a symphony of unraveling immortality.

Blood welled, bright red, human red. Darius hissed, recoiling as though burned. The runes on the walls flared again, crimson to silver to white-hot. The tome on the altar burst into flame, not consuming pages, but illuminating them in stark relief. Words appeared, new words, hidden until blood touched the stone: The bridge bleeds willingly. The chain breaks only to re-forge stronger. Darius’s eyes widened. Elara clutched her bleeding hand to Kael’s wounded arm, pressing palm to wound.

Blood. There were quite a lot of red stains, even stretching faintly like traces left behind by someone walking while injured. Several servants were busy cleaning it. Robert stopped walking. His expression shifted slightly. “Whose blood is that?” One of the servants immediately lowered his head nervously. “It belongs to the person who fed the dogs earlier, Sir.” Robert looked at the servant expressionlessly. “Bitten?” “Yes, Sir.” The servant answered carefully. “The dogs got loose while being fed.” Robert fell silent for a few seconds.

The moment her eyes collide with mine, she hurries towards me, her features twisting into a frown of pure disgust. “YOU!” She cries out, aggressively banging her cane against the rough wooden floor and making me jump. “I am the anne of the man your baba murdered, and unlike Quenten, I have more justice in my heart than compassion. You are bad blood, and I won’t allow you to spread your poison around my home. You might be alive because of Quenten-”