Blood Magic Well Of Suffering Novels & Stories

A sickly, pulsing crimson light. Agony. It hits like a physical blow. The carefully constructed walls inside me – Arthur’s roots, my own scarred will – groan. The blood-magic resonates with the original curse, the one woven into Kieran’s betrayal, the one that birthed the Alpha. It scrapes against my prison bars, seeking weaknesses, prying at the seams holding Kieran’s echo. It burns. A cold fire searing my spirit.

Where he was, where I always felt him warm and constant like a candle flame, there's nothing now. Just void stretching endlessly. Cold and empty and fundamentally wrong. The sound that tears from my ruined throat isn't a scream or a howl. It's the sound of something breaking inside that can never be fixed, never be made whole again. But my body doesn't collapse like I expect. Doesn't weaken or fade. Instead, my birthmark doesn't just glow this time. It explodes with light that fills the entire chamber. Silver light, blinding and pure and ancient. The blood mage flies backward like he's been struck by lightning. He slams into the wall hard enough to crack stone and doesn't get up.

The further I got from the Blood Well, the more the forest opened into barren land—the forbidden territory where old magic ran wild and the soil reeked of dead witches. This was where the ritual had to begin. I reached the center—the cracked altar built from the bones of ancient wolves. Everything around me pulsed with forgotten power. The wind twisted unnaturally. The sky above swirled in sick, harsh colors. Perfect. I held up the vial, trembling as Charlotte’s blood glowed brighter. I uncorked it, letting the scent spill into the air. “My turn,” I whispered, lifting the vial over the altar. The moment the first drop hit the stone, the land screamed.

Pain. Searing, all-consuming pain. It tears through every cell of my body like molten lava, reshaping me from the inside out. I try to scream, but my vocal cords are transforming, making my cries come out as half-human, half-wolf howls. The basement of Callum's penthouse spins around me, ancient runes carved into stone walls pulsing with an eerie blue light. Their magic contains my thrashing body, keeps me from hurting myself – or others – as the change takes hold. The metallic scent of my own blood mingles with sweat and fear, overwhelming my heightening senses.

They coalesced into ribbons, then into streams, rushing upward toward the Spire like a reverse waterfall. The Council Elders watched in horror as the blood of their soldiers mixed with the blood of the rogues. In death, there were no factions. Only fuel. The blood swirled around Morrigan, a cyclone of crimson fluid. She shaped it with her mind, sweating blood from her own pores. " Pons Sanguineus! " she shrieked. She thrust her hands toward the cracking vortex. The blood shot forward. It didn't form a ramp. It formed spheres—stepping stones of surface tension and dark magic—leading straight into the maw of the collapsing dimension.

We finally have an elder on our side and she can perhaps combat with the warlock magically. "And I can't think straight with this throbbing head and bleeding body." I bobbed my head and bit a chunk of my hand before filling a wine glass with the droplets of my blood. The blood of vampires can help heal up all kinds of wounds on any supernatural species and fragile humans. Bastiana accepted the glass and drank my blood with a gulp while her face mirrored disgust. Her scars began healing and her cuts closed back till her skin was as good as new.

I want him to taste my wrath, to let him feel my overflowing thirst for vengeance. I stood and uttered an oath of lividity. Glowing fire surrounded me. I closed my eyes and started to mutter the forbidden enchantment I’ve learned. I know that this power formation would consume a big amount of my energy and could kill me, but I don’t care anymore. I don’t care if this hall would be my graveyard as long as I drag Ren Lancaster in hell. “Mea vita pro morte sua… Mea vita pro morte sua…” I uttered again and again, my hand parallel to each other, and on its center is the formed symbol of death on fire.

However, all of a sudden, Adrian started to stop his footsteps there, and stood with his stiff body right now. Adrian hardened his facial expression there, and subconsciously started blinking his eyelids a few times. It wasn't long before his eyes started to turn slightly metallic in color. Damn, it's the smell of Alexis' blood. What happened to her right now? Is she hurting? Adrian thought to himself, when he realized what had just happened to him. Adrian smelled Alexis' blood there, which suddenly made Adrian's eyes turn into metallic color. And the thirst that he could immediately feel slowly began to fill every part of his body. Adrian tried to catch his breath, to at least quench his th

Well, at least I finally got something I can do as a mage, right? Water splintered like glistening crystals as I turned and followed the rhythm with precision. I closed my eyes as I continued on my track, there was another smooth splash. Once again, I turned and leaped a little, then faced the audience and opened my eyes. I thought I'd see my expectants watching me in awe. But to my surprise, my line of vision was directed to a pair of unfamiliar pitch black eyes, the darkest shade of black I've ever seen in my whole life.

The wind howled violently, scratching at my throat until I felt an itch that seemed to make me want to cough. "Enough talking. Choose, or I'll let them both go." At Amber's signal, the men next to us hoisted both me and Tara up. The salty sea breeze hit me in the face, and the sharp smell of ocean water churned my stomach. However, nothing compared to the screaming in my ears. Before I could even draw a breath, Ethan had already made his choice. At that moment, everything went silent. Amber instinctively turned to look at me. My vision flickered and spots of black clouded my sight, but I did not know why.