Blood Line Book Novels & Stories

Ever since she arrived at Blackthorn, it hadn’t appeared and she would have preferred it that way, but now, she feared it won’t always be like that anymore. On her arm, she saw the lines again, like vines twisting and circling. It moved on its own and it had a glow of its own—a faint one. She raised her arm and watched it closely, not understanding what it was and why it chose her out of the billions of people alive. Or could it be that she wasn’t the only one? Like how she discovered that there are vampires and wolves in the school, could there be more out there? Even from her other school?

“This is a bloodline record. It contains the complete history of your lineage, the powers they wielded, the reasons they were deemed too dangerous to survive.” “Can you read it?” Rowan asked. “Not me,” Maren said. “Only someone with the blood can access the full knowledge. Anyone else would see only fragments.” Elara opened the book. The pages were blank. Then, as she watched, text began to appear. Writing itself in real time, responding to her presence, her questions, her need. *The Bloodline of the First Flame,* the text read. *Born from the union of human will and wolf instinct, forged in fire that predates pack formation, designed to bridge worlds that were never meant to touch.*

Alpha Collen mumbled in excitement. "But there is a little problem." The beta said. "What problem?" "The seer (witch) of the pack mentioned that the child in your mate womb is carrying the last bloodline of your great grandparents." He added. "That is not a problem, my child is special then, you know I heard from my parents that my great grandfather was a big red and black werewolf, I wonder what colour my child will be, even if my child doesn't inherit I or my mate's colour of the wolf, I know my child will have those wolf yellowish eyes just like every one of us here in our pack."

They say karma is a bitch.... but not many believe it neither did I until today, when my past is standing right in front of me laughing at my face, and even in this pin drop silence I could hear its laughter like ricochet piercing through my ears and hitting its core along with my subconscious which reminds me that I’m sitting here all by myself drenched in blood clueless and helpless, unable to process what just happened wondering what went wrong in my story for it to take such a drastic turn. It has always been a battle of bloodlines but who would’ve thought for it to turn into a literal bloodbath, with my hands covered in the only thing I was always running from.

It was strictly forbidden by the pack rules for any werewolf to remain in their tents during the morning work hours. _But who cares? The rules were meant for others, not me._ My name is Samantha Emberwood. I was born half-werewolf, half-nymph, under a special lineage of wolf known as Purebred. Unlike others of my kind who have the ability to transform and communicate directly with their wolves, Purebreds possess the ability to separate from their inner wolf, creating a special bond that grants us control and mastery over their abilities. In the entire Dawn Runner pack, I'm the only one born with the Purebred Bloodline. Rumor has it that I inherited my abilities from my birth mother. But the

“Please go.” “No.” “Ella,” he begs, tears shining. “I’m not worth your life .” “You’re worth everything ,” I say, and the words rip out of me like they’ve been waiting years to be spoken . Barion laughs, cold and ugly. “Sentiment from a rogue. How touching.” Vera’s voice cuts through like a blade. “She is not rogue. She is blood of the royal line.” The room goes dead still. Galeon scoffs. “She’s a half-breed.”

"Then what's the problem?" "The book is one piece." Aldric turned a page. The sound of brittle paper in a quiet room. "The formula requires a bloodline. Specifically the First one's bloodline, carried in an unbroken line from the original binding." He set his finger on a passage. "Without the living bloodline as a catalyst, the formula is a description of a process that cannot be initiated. A recipe without the primary ingredient." I looked at him. "You mean the girl."

“There are two more bloodlines I haven’t called. They’re wolves… just like us.” The room goes silent, chests hammering. Eyes locked on her. “The Blue Crescent blood…” She begins describing the mark. My heart drops. “Could… could you read that again?” I stammer, eyes wide. “You can read,” she hisses, sliding the book toward me. “Go ahead.” I grab it, my hands tremble as I read the line again. And again. And again. Then I flip the page, I see the pictures of the bloodlines with their new and marks.

It wasn't hot enough to be painful this time, just pulsing softly in rhythm with my heartbeat. I opened the book. The pages were aged-looking, the ink spotty in different spots. The writing itself, no, I shouldn't be able to decipher it. The symbols were old-fashioned, from before the pack texts. However, I could read each word. *The Histories of the Ancient Bloodlines. Volume III: The Torres Lineage and the Binding of the Moon.* My hands were shaking. Torres. My mother’s ancestral surname. In Andrew’s chair, I settled in and read.

Some had gone unopened for centuries. I strode past them all until I spotted what I was searching for— Bloodlines & Bonds: A History of Magical Inheritance. It was thick. Leather that didn’t feel like it could be from an animal. I took a seat at the closest table, and I started reading. --- Hours passed. Every page piled more rocks atop the weight that was already crushing my chest. Theodore didn’t just have a marked bloodline — it had been engineered.