Novel & Cerita Bathory Under The Sign Of The Black Mark

I can't still believe I have formed a blood pact with a demon. Suddenly, my heart pumped wildly then I just saw in my mind my red-colored grace of the Cancer and his black curse joining as one. After these two orbs united, creating a black-crimson orb, a new sign was inscribed inside it. It was a sign that symbolizes a fox and a crab. “Now, let's get going. This is the birth of the Black Zodiac,” Mammon said then the Infinite Prison broke apart into pieces.

Malachor's growls vibrated through her, his fangs grazing her jaw now, teasing another bite as he chased his release, determined to flood her with his seed. She could feel him swelling thicker, his hips snapping forward with feral urgency, balls slapping her ass in wet, brutal smacks. The altar groaned beneath them, cracks spiderwebbing from the force, but Elizabeth barely noticed—her world narrowed to the demonic invasion splitting her open, the metallic scent of blood thick in the air, mingling with the salty tang of sweat and the musky reek of their mingled arousal. Her thighs quivered, locked around his waist, pulling him deeper despite the agony, her submissive body craving the destruct

I pressed my hand to my nose, but it did little to dull the stench. Lying sprawled on the forest floor was a rogue. Or what was left of one. His body was twisted unnaturally, limbs bent at wrong angles, ribs cracked open like a chest cavity had been torn apart from the inside. Deep claw marks ran across his neck and abdomen, feral, not clean like ours. But it wasn’t just the brutality that froze me. It was the mark carved into his skin, burned into his chest. ‘Black magic,’ Dowen growled through the mindlink, his voice laced with disgust.

Surround the territory. Crush resistance. Spare only one. Take her to the master. They crept silently, shadowing the forest perimeter. Controlled by dark magic, the beasts moved like wind, soulless and obedient. Some crawled, others ran, their minds bent to one will—one voice. They had no reason. No strategy. Just a single command: Get the girl. But what they didn’t count on? Black Oak wasn’t just a pack. It was a fortress built on blood and instinct. Every wolf trained. Every sense sharp.

I thought I was prepared, even beyond what Damien could comprehend. I wasn't. Elder Blackthorne sat in her armchair by the fireplace, positioned as if she'd simply fallen asleep reading. Except for the symbols carved into her skin. Intricate patterns covered her arms, her neck, her face. The same ancient werewolf markings we'd seen on the other victims, but more elaborate this time, more deliberate. They formed words in Old Tongue. The language packs had been used centuries ago before assimilating into modern society. And there was so much blood. It had soaked into the chair she was sitting on, pooled on the hardwood floor, and splattered across the nearby bookshelf. The scent was overwhelmi

In his palm: a jagged obsidian shard glowing with an inner black flame. Xavier (hoarse, whispering): “You were chained for centuries. Buried by fear. Fed lies. I see you.” He presses the blade to the stone and carves a looping sigil of flame and chain. The mark glows dark violet, then pulsing red. Xavier: “I carry your curse. I share your rage.” The dungeon trembles. Dust falls. Then—* A howl—low, deep, ancient—rises from the mark like smoke turned sound.

They just needed a little time. Darkness as well as time were the only confidants of two souls who had found each other. Between that white color of the bandages, between that feeling of fear of failing, between everything that came to the front, those people who were on the black list already had a defined destiny. No, they were not going to stain their hands with the blood of those who had only caused harm, they were going to do something more. They were going to find their weak points and make them pay in the worst way.

Gia threw me a look filled with disgust before spitting on my face and departing. I struggled to get up a few minutes after she and her minions left. I tore a piece of my gown from the tip and wrapped it around my bleeding arm. I could not heal, for I was an omega. My healing rate was just like that of a human. I unconsciously made my way to a bar, determined to get drunk and try to forget my pain for that night.

It's worse than I imagined. A jagged scar cuts across his ribs, but it's not just a scar. The flesh is blackened and twisted, and within it, something glows—a deep, pulsing red light like embers in dying coals. The mark is shaped like a broken moon encircled by thorns, and as I watch, shadows writhe beneath his skin, spreading out from the mark like roots. "This is the Bloodwraith Mark," he says, his voice hollow. "My father tried to break a sacred bond, and Vorrak punished our entire bloodline for it. This curse turns emotion into hunger. The stronger I feel, the more dangerous I become. And with you…" He shakes his head. "Everything I feel is amplified a hundredfold. Your fear feeds me. Yo

I explained and he sighed. "Callum come here". Zee patted the seat next to him. Callum scooted over there. "When Zol captured you we had no other option but to change you. It was Steph, well it had to be Steph. Zol just triggered him. Look at these holes. It’s where Stephen bit you. It’s similar to Blaze but these mere holes soon turn into spots. But the bond mark by Blaze will be prominent as the sun. It’s like an arc carved on your skin. A permanent tattoo.