Bathory Blood On Ice の小説・ストーリー

--- Deimon submerged himself in the Blood-Moon bath, an ancient family Jacuzzi reserved for cleansing before the crimson rituals. The water shimmered with crushed moonflowers and sacred oils, their scent thick and intoxicating. Steam rose in ghostly spirals, carrying with it the weight of centuries-old tradition. This wasn't merely a bath—it was a rite passed down through generations of Ashworth Alphas, each one purifying themselves before ascending to greater power.

The Icy Deep ​POV: Alpha Kaelen Blackwood ​Thorne’s grip on my throat was like a vise forged of cold iron and dark magic. The vampire thrall wheezed, dark, necrotic blood bubbling over his lips and spilling onto my forearm. His crimson eyes glowed with a sick, triumphant light, entirely unbothered by the silver sword I had just driven completely through his heart.

ROAR" - my voice instills fear in all who hear it. "To any descendant of mine who hears me, I demand blood! Give it to me!" A woman's voice responds, "Yes, my lord." Within moments, the echo of a human voice and the sound of a sword slicing through flesh fill the air. Each drop of blood is a symphony to my ears, a melody I haven't heard for centuries. Now, with every passing second, human blood rejuvenates my system. I feel alive again. My skeletal figure slowly levitates, a testament to the residual power that has lingered in my body over the centuries.

I pulled one down, the leather brittle under my touch. The Codex Sangreal. My oldest guide. The scripture of blood. I flipped through the pages, searching for the passage I hadn’t needed in centuries. And there it was: “When the blood of the Bathory meets the blood of the True Sun, the bond shall twist upon itself. Maker and made shall reflect each other, and the leash shall break. The Bathory blood. Mine. And the True Sun the first human line touched by sunlight, cursed to walk both paths. The line of Vlad.

Blue lightning danced across her collarbone, tracing the veins in her arms as she poured every ounce of her immortal soul into holding the ceiling of the world from collapsing. But as powerful as she was, Tala knew the elements could only delay a plague born of ancient, sovereign-fed hunger. A wall of water and a trench of stone were physical barriers. The blood-born were anomalies of the deep dark; they didn't breathe, they didn't bleed out, and they didn't tire. "They’re adjusting!" Soren shouted over the deafening, continuous roar of the thunder. He stood right at the edge of the granite precipice, his silver-rimmed eyes locked onto the churning chaos of the ravine below.

Like saying it out loud is its own kind of relief. "Don't talk," I say. I put my hands on him. The Moonblood knows what to do. I don't have to direct it or manage it or be afraid of it. It moves through me the way it has been waiting to move — not forced, not pushed, simply allowed. It finds the powder's trace in his blood the way light finds the edges of things in a dark room. Not by force. By nature. By the simple fact that where this kind of light goes, the things that hide in darkness cannot stay hidden.

Grace's words kept ringing in my head. ‘He doesn't care about you or your silly emotions. He'll fuck you like an animal. He will fuck you bloody.’ I was Dimitri's whore, till the end of days, trapped in this golden cage. A tear ran down my cheek. I wrapped my arms around my middle, trying to quench the panic. The doorknob twisted and Dimitri came in covered in blood. Human blood. A loud gasp wrenched out of my throat before I could stop myself, I drew backwards, My eyes wide and panicky

A sin that couldn’t be stoned I stared deep down his face His gaze was fixated on me I threw the first stone My heart filled with sorrows Covered with the strength of tomorrow I looked away from his preying eyes I couldn’t stand the eyes of the stranger The stranger that I had betrayed They casted their stones Pitting him with the pains in their heart As he slowly accepted his fate His resistance couldn’t oppose A big stone crouched up his head Breaking and tearing through his skull He fell with a great thud Covered with tears and blood While the mob continued incessantly Being incited by unwavering hatred And their loyalism to religion The blaring of sirens And chants of the mob The blood o

She could change any moment from now. "Orpheus Bathory!! Yes that is who he is. He is no other person than the son of the vampire king, Vladimir Bathory and he is here for a mission, to get a virgin hybrid but there he is stuck with that vampire rogue, a common bumpkin and his clan is about to face the darkest doom of all times." I cursed in a whimpering tone.

We're both breathing heavily and I open my mouth to speak but it's no longer me talking, my wolf has taken over and he wants to claim what is his. "Just say the word and I am yours." My voice is a gravely demonic version of my own and I can see from the reflection of her glasses that my eyes are completely silver now. A contrast to her deep golden iris's that shine brightly back at me. Complete opposites. That's what we are. Only the goddess knows why we were paired together. My canines extend as I wait for her to respond her eyes never leaving mine. Her answer is so soft, so faint, it's nearly lost on the wind. Nevertheless I hear it. "Yes."