Blood And Ice Skyrim Novels & Stories

My eyes held The tip of the iceberg holding the steel lungs. There, at the highest point, melt the ice. It wasn't the sun that opened it. The violet light of the Ödland was much too weak. Small, black cracks formed in the perfect blue of the ice. It looked like bleeding the ice. “Do you see that?” I asked quietly and lifted my rifle. Kael was right on my side, his look followed mine. From the cracks a black, viscous substance penetrated to old engine oil

Just the river and the wind and my own thundering heart. The carved symbol glowed faintly in the tree bark, a ward against death. From the king. For Elara. I pressed my hands against my face, feeling tears mix with river water and blood. I'd survived. Against all odds, against tradition and logic and everything I'd believed about the Blood Hunt, I'd survived. But the cost... the cost was written in those claw marks on the tree. Elara had bought my life with something I couldn't name. Something that made a king interfere with his own sacred Hunt. Something that might destroy her in ways death never could.

Flashback: ARACHNE’S P.O.V “Promise me!” Helena’s voice cuts through the room like a blade, ragged and desperate. She’s dying. Bleeding out, trembling, and barely holding on. I grip her hand, heart pounding loud enough for both of us to hear. “Hel, please—”

This best friend is a White girl… a countryman with the murderous gang that Quan once slaughtered. The other girl was one of the Silvers and happened to have the same eye color as her blood. Her dark blue hair was in a ponytail. As a result of Quan's actions too, there was a scar across her neck that looked painful. However, the look in her eyes seemed friendlier than that eerie impression.

I pierced the skin, pulling the edges together, tying the knots neat and tight, just like I had seen someone do a thousand times before in some distant, blurry memory. But his face was still too gray. His skin felt like ice. "He needs fluid," I muttered, looking at the clear plastic tubing in the medical kit. "He lost too much. He's going to go into shock." "There's no plasma bags left, Elara," Sophia said, her voice hollow with exhaustion as she leaned against the wall. "We used the last one two days ago." I looked down at my own arm, then at hers. "Then he takes ours."

I hoped to play the hero–or heroin. Blood painted the stone walls of the fortress, they smelt like fresh blood. Before me in a long hallway was a huge door with few lifeless men littering the door entrance. My heart thuds as I make my brave steps towards the door. What's behind the door could be the dreadful one who slayed the men I met on the way. Also the one who might be keeping Emmett captive, because for what I know, he was immortal.

The other option was that whoever fired the rifle wasn't experienced, hence the minor wound to their target but still didn't explain why the rifle was left. Lucas moved slowly, eyes dancing over the snow. Something else happened to make the shooter drop their weapon, but what? It was still unclear until he spotted where the blanket of ice had been disturbed. The way it was stamped down and cut up told of the struggle that had happened. Tiny red droplets marred the perfect whiteness like rubies on a blanket. The blood had frozen from the temperature. Gradually they grew bigger until they came to an end at a patch of smeared blood. Lucas crouched down onto his haunches, gloved finger tracing a

“Lara… Magnus… listen to me. The only way to kill Rider Storm… is with your blood combined… poured into a lethal blade.” I nodded, my throat tight. “We’ll do it, father. We’ll end this.” With a final, trembling breath, Skyrim placed his hand on Lara’s forehead, a faint glow emanating from his touch. “Take my strength… my daughter. Use it well.” And then he was gone. Lara’s sobs cut through the night, but she steeled herself, turning to me with a fierce determination in her eyes. “Let’s finish this.” We moved as one, driven by grief and resolve. With a swift cut, we drew blood from our palms, letting it mix with the blade of Skyrim's enchanted dagger. The blade glowed with a lethal light, cha

Dominic looked at Gage in disbelief. “I only took the heads and two bags of blood. That Haverley snores like a fucking broken tractor. I walked right into his room, lifted the covers and placed the pig’s head between his legs and soaked the area with the pig’s blood. Halden was still awake so I left the pig’s head in his bed and sprayed the blood everywhere over his bed while he was in the shower,” Gage said. The coffee machine beeped and Dominic shook his head. “That sends a message all right.”

"The glowing moss from the sinks is only the anchor. The rest is brewed from crushed nightshade and a few drops of your own stubborn blood. Drink up, or hand it back. I have deadlier poisons in the back that require far less effort to brew." Zeyric didn't hesitate. He tilted his head back and swallowed the bitter draught in a single, unceremonious gulp, his throat working hard against the thick, gelatinous texture. A sharp, violent shiver wracked his frame, and his eyes watered instantly, but almost immediately, the frantic, jagged drumming in his chest slowed into a steady, muted thrum. The white-hot, microscopic needle that had been wedged behind his ribs since the cursed entry vanished, r