Novel & Cerita Bathory Blood On Ice

Avel had settled himself against the wall near the door, eyes half-closed but not resting, cloak draped around his shoulders like a mantle of shadow. His breath was too slow. Too measured. Too practiced. Guarding himself more than guarding me. I lay on the bed, exhaustion dragging at my limbs but my heartbeat refused to quiet. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw silver. --- I stood on the main stage of the Blood Opera House. Empty. Silent. Bathed in moonlight so bright it turned the red velvet seats into silver waves.

My legs feel heavy, as if the black earth wants to claim them, pull me down into the same memory it holds of all the others. A wind comes up, shifting ash in slow, eddying spirals. I tighten my cloak around my shoulders and step forward, ignoring the rasp of armor at my joints. I’m not dressed for mourning, but for intimidation: a breastplate chased with gold, the sigil of my House stark on the tabard. Still, there is no one left here to fear me.

But now, with the drastic drop in temperature, that mist solidified, turning into snowflakes made of blood. It was a shocking sight—an eerie phenomenon. The gathered warriors fell into silence, holding their breath. Even Brantley and Waylon, proud geniuses in their own right, watched intently. The battle was about to begin. "Horseback Blade!" Draven wasted no time and unleashed one of his ultimate techniques right away. At their level, there was no need for meaningless prewarning. "Ice Spear!" Umbra harnessed the crimson snow, forging a blood-colored spear of ice and hurling it forward.

I'm sure to find something! Suddenly, I freeze as I read a new chapter. My trembling finger frantically follows the lines. My eyes widen and my heart thumps in my chest. Several things strike me as if I had a sudden flash of clarity: "They only feed in blood... Their skin is pale and icy-cold... They have superhuman strength and extraordinary speed..." I read the title again not wanting to believe it: Vampire. Everything's there. Everything matches. The reflection in the mirror which vampires try to avoid, their aversion to food... Vampires... The Bathory's are vampires!!!

All I had to do was light it and get started, which I did. "Venez sanguis. Venez sanguis, Venus sangria la force de la beta â moi" I chanted, closing my eyes tightly. Even when I did not know what the spell was about, I could not control my tongue. I gathered some blood from God knows and directed in my direction. "Sanguis Sanguis" I chanted repeatedly, making the blood splash on the mirror. The mirror brightened up a bit with blurry figures. I chanted harder as the figures became clearer.

Luntian mused, her brows furrowed as she tried to reminisce and remember the song from almost a millenia years ago. “Blood on the Fortress, from the wrath of the beast. Blood on the staircase, wrath has released. King of the East, your line will be ceased.” =============== With a scream, the woman standing in front of Mongolia’s tavern ran as fast as she could. All the villagers left, some fell on their backs, their eyes rolling in the back of their heads from sheer fright. Fearing, the beast will end their lives. Ember was writhing as Calleb grabbed her by the neck and pulled her up, her feet hanging on the ground. She choked, grumbled. All she could see was white, and after a few more seco

The pack’s warriors scrambled, claws out, but the air was thick with fear. The howl from the north, cold, ancient, hungry still echoed, promising death. “It’s here!” Aria shouted, her voice sharp. The crimson eclipse swallowed the moon, casting the camp in a blood-red glow. Her bond with Kael pulsed, his strength grounding her, but the Oath’s whisper clawed at her mind: His blood will free me. The shadows surged, forming wolves with fur like liquid night, their eyes blazing crimson. At their head stood the Daughter of the Iceborn, her silver fur glinting, her claws dripping with dark energy.

**SEAL Captain (comms, calm):** “Storm Queen, grid locked. Black ops on flanks. Lances hot—waiting your mark.” I nod. Crown spins max. But I need more than human forces. Blood summons. I slice my palm deep—blood welling violet-gold, dripping to the corrupted ground where it hisses and burns clean patches. Speak the name—voice carrying power. **Celeste:** “Julian Bathory. By ancient blood oath between storm and night, I call you and yours.” The ground splits—red mist rising thick, smelling of iron and old wine. Julian emerges first—pale, elegant in tailored black, fangs gleaming, eyes crimson with hunger.

She was halfway across to her car when Sarah felt extreme pain emanating from her belly which forced her to grasp her abdomen. "No!... No! Not now!" she zealously protested. "This couldn't be happening again!" But the pain was too much. She couldn't bear it any longer. As a creature born out of the blood moon her destiny to metamorphose into a manananggal each time there is a blood moon is inevitable. Sharp bones protruded from her shoulders and with no warning bat wings emerged. She let out a loud deafening cry that echoed through the night as her upper torso separated itself from her lower limbs. With intestines dangling and blood dripping, she flew into the darkness.