Bathory Under The Sign Of The Black Mark Novels & Stories

He noticed the crystal on its forehead briefly gleamed and shined after it healed itself. A while ago, its body had already been bathed with its own blood of muddy black color from all the wounds it took. Yet now, it completely returned to its original color, like nothing happened in the first place. Feeling suspicious, Yman knitted his brows. Although he was not sure, he could still remember some of his teacher's teachings. He said that the monster with '+' on their rank tend to have a crazy mode that will be triggered when the monster's health points dropped at a certain percentage.

The dark magic writhed like living parasites beneath his epidermis, intertwining to form an ancient, terrifying insignia: a black crown pierced by a jagged void spear. The Generals gasped, drawing back in absolute horror. "By the Ancestors..." Beta Marcus breathed, his face going chalk-white. "The Mark of the Void Sovereign..." Dominic stared down at his shoulder in profound, disbelieving shock. His gray eyes flared into a chaotic mixture of liquid gold and pitch-black before he forced his Lycan willpower to stabilize his vision. "What... is this?" Dominic rumbled, his voice shaking with a rare, terrifying vulnerability. "How long has this been inside me?"

The scenario turned awkward, and the tension built just watching it unfold. “Did I ask something wrong?” “No,” he answered. “I lead them like an alpha, but I'm not an alpha. In the early days when the curse began in families, some had crescent moons as their mark. The alphas get a full moon. That hasn't happened in over ten generations.” “But wolves still need a leader,” Orion chipped in. “That's why Mr Franklin, being the one with more experience, is doing that for us.” “Are we done lecturing the newbie so we can get back to business at hand?” Cameron spoke impatiently.

Really? “Because Beelzebub promised Lady Bathory you would attend tonight, and I can only presume you can't bear to let the precious girl out of your sight, considering the threats that abound.” “Damn Bub to the pits of Abaddon,” the Reaper said darkly. He poured himself the dregs of wine and finished it with abandon, as if bracing himself. “And why is Bathory so eager for my attendance?” “Word in the court is that the Black Legion is preying on mortals in her territory. She wants your agents to back her in expelling the Black Legion from her realm.”

His breath came in short, fevered bursts, each one dragged up from the deepest pit of him like he had to tear it loose. The knife was obsidian. The edge not forged, but broken. Sharp in the way curses are—shaped by hatred and handed down. He didn’t flinch as he carved the sigil into his chest. A spiral of fang and claw. The Hollowborn mark, mutated with his own—lines interwoven, twisted like mating snakes. A mating brand. His fingers trembled at the final curve, but not from fear. It was joy. When he was done, he dropped the blade. It clattered against the stone, echoing too loud in the chapel's silence.

Because I wasn’t sure. We performed the final rite that night. The Blood Pact. A vow older than kingdoms. Forbidden by the stars. Damned by every god that still drew breath. I mixed her blood with Nicholas’s hair, stolen during one of my spies’ raids, bound in root and salt. “Blood for blood,” I chanted. “Shadow for flame. Desire undone.” Flames turned black. The mark on her chest, an inverted version of Azaria’s sacred sigil, flared, pulsed, and sealed.

The voices rose in a keening wail, blending into one piercing shriek. Something massive hurtled through the underbrush, barreling straight towards me. I dug my heels into the spongy earth and backpedaled furiously. A blur of motion solidified into a towering humanoid shape, all sharp angles and rigid bones. It skidded to a halt mere inches from me, the impact gouging deep furrows into the forest floor. Bared fangs stretched its mottled gray flesh into a skeletal grin, lips pulled back in a deranged, mocking leer. Blank sockets stared down at me, hollows in its warped skull where eyes should have been.

My lips invaded her neck hungrily and she gasped in shock when my fangs nipped her drawing blood. There was something different about her...she made me feel things I've only felt when I was with Hestia. Our eyes locked in a frenzy when I realized what I had done. Two dots were on her neck. she smirked at me. I marked her. And it wasn't just an ordinary mark. I had made her mine and it means that Galen can't have her anymore. I thrusted into her and her lips parted softly and I watched her eagerness. "You're mine now."

The colors blue and black ebbed and flowed underneath the gray surface like bruises that couldn’t heal. Thea couldn’t sense Lilith the way she could other living things. It was like she was frozen, stuck somewhere between life and death. She wasn’t a vampire. There wasn’t any Life magic in or near her. Or in the Underworld at all. “You’re like me, little wolf,” Lilith said. The black of her eyes receded, revealing gray irises tinged with red. Lilith moved her hair behind her, revealing her own marks on her neck and shoulder. Crimson symbols that seemed to be bleeding, like she carved them into herself every day before they had the chance to heal. Thea wished Alpha Ford and Amethyst were here

I really wish I could get to know who this strange man was with all the wealth and connections he's got. The Northern Capital Pack isn't known for its accommodations or a good economy for having such a grand place to live, unless you're the Lycan king himself or a family of his. I let go of my thoughts at once the moment I saw something on my neck. At first, I thought it was a hickey until I saw a mark there. I'm gasp. No, I cannot be marked by this man. Chris will kill me if he sees it. Hurriedly, I go to the bathroom and clean myself up. Thankfully, I didn't bleed much, so I was well. When I was done, I walked quickly to the window and saw that it wasn't that far from the ground. I can jum