Blessing Of Blood To Phantoms Novels & Stories

Then I dipped a finger into the thick crimson liquid in my container and pressed it to the mark, smearing it carefully with a mixture of sacred ash. “What is that?” Frederick asked from behind me. “My sacred blood,” I replied, “Mixed with ash from the burning of several elemental offerings; earth, wind, bone, fire, and shadow.” He said nothing, but I felt his eyes on every movement I made. From the window, the wind picked up again and the candle flames rose higher. I saw the moon soar bright, so close from this hilltop that it looked almost within reach. A good omen. The Goddess watched tonight and her presence was what I needed. Magic this ancient and dangerous required her blessing to seve

“Have I not prepared him enough these past two years?” “No, you have,” I confirmed, a weak smile plastered on my lips. “Alaric is strong and he’ll know what to do when the time comes, but he’s just so happy with Violet right now, and…” I absolutely didn’t want to take that away from him… Aelius nodded. “I won’t tell.” I exhaled, relieved. “She hasn’t been blessed yet. Will you do it now?” Aelius glanced down at Violet in his arms, then back at me. The blessing of a child of blood was a tradition among the elders of Bloodstone. They would read one’s fate, guide them, and speak to them about their path.

That was how things in the Netherrealm normally were. Usually, even with the guidance of Phantom Patrols, living souls could barely make it to Mournglow River. But today was different. It was not because Landon was special, but because of the red thread wrapped around his wrist. That red thread had been fed with blood from someone who had beneficence. Someone had used blood as a bridge to pave him a path to Mournglow River. The Phantom Patrol kept glancing at Landon's wrist. After all, any living soul that wanted to reach Mournglow River had to forget everything from their past life, and their body in the living world had to die too.

Without the least bit of empathy for my cornered compatriots, I pat myself on the back for trusting my instincts, simultaneously horrified and impressed as each time a vamp tries to port, they reappear abruptly, like a bird crashing into a window, tumbling to the ground. If they even make it that far. Inside their dark magic dome, there’s also some phantom form, smoke-like and swirling black, both in the air and at ground level—I’ve never seen anything like it— that shrouds any porting vamps within seconds of their reappearance against the dark magic barrier. Where the hazy phantasm passes, it dumps the porting vampire as a mummified husk before moving on eagerly to the next stunned and obli

and he nods while cursing, his shadows spreading. Cursed wraiths, black, smoky creatures with claws and flaming crimson eyes, hiss like agitated snakes as the ground cracks. “Fuck!” I yell, destroying one by flashing light at it. Dante's shadows slice a third, but he's slow and still injured from the vampire world, and Jude's shadows slam another, cracking the rock underneath. “Observe it!” A ghost swipes at my chest as Jude yanks me back and yells. Calix's laugh reverberates as my light burns it, but more come, and the fog is playing tricks on my mind, flashing images of my family members dying. "We are being screwed by it!" Jude grabs hold of my hand as I yell, our friendship getting stron

As she contemplated this, another message window appeared; [ALERT; YOU HAVE SYNTHESIZED THE SKILL: MOLECULAR TRANSMUTATION WITH THE SKILL; BLOOD CONTROL! UPDATING PHANTASM! YOUR BLOOD HAS NOW CHANGED INTO A FORM OF PLASMA-LIKE ENERGY! YOUR BOND TO ALTERNATE SPACE: CRIMSON VOID HAS BEEN ENHANCED!] [ERROR! YOU HAVE NOT MET THE NECESSARY CONDITIONS TO ACCESS FULL CAPABILITIES!] ***

The wolves had seen many horrors, endured many battles, but none had prepared them for what was coming. The Order, desperate in their attempt to break Veyra's forces, had turned to dark rituals—rituals so twisted they threatened to tear the fabric of reality itself. In the dead of night, under a blood-red moon, they had summoned phantoms from beyond the veil. These were not mere illusions. They were the spirits of fallen warriors, twisted versions of the dead, forced back into the world of the living by the Order's malevolent power.

Under the blood-red setting sun, Caspian stood on the ruins of a silent battlefield. Beneath his feet, corpses piled up like mountains and bones were like a sea. He seemed to be the Death who climbed out of hell! "Blood Sacrifice Grand Magic!" With a roar, Caspian punched again. At this moment, the whole surface of his forearm was covered with blood and the blood exploded into a thick bloody mist. The blood mist enveloped his arm, transforming into an enraged ghost head. It opened its huge mouth and punched out, roaring as it attempted to destroy everything.

Strong. Identical to Emilio. But colder. Eyes black. Elias watched through a monitor. "Begin Phase Two. Let the ghost taste air." The boy’s eyes snapped open. He whispered one word: "Mother." ~~~~~~~~~~ BOOK OF BLOOD — NEW PAGE "You can clone a body. You cannot clone a soul. But if you feed rage to both... they will not become brothers. They will become war." Aria folded the page. Burned it. And disappeared again.

The moment the blood touched the soil, it pulsed faintly, as though sensing the power coursing through me. With a sharp motion of my wrist, I began weaving the spell. My hand moved gracefully, tracing intricate patterns in the air above the blood. The magic felt raw and alive, a current of energy that surged through my veins as I focused my intent. A tendril of light rose from the blood, swirling upward like smoke caught in a phantom breeze. It expanded outward, reaching through the fabric of the world as if seeking Andromeda’s essence.