Novel & Cerita Blood Of Cuchulainn

Elena whispered, her silver blade flashing in the amber light of the enemy fires. From the dark shadows of the ravine trail, twenty black-clad hunters materialized from the fog, their steel plate armor reflecting the eerie, corpse-like glow of the chemical fire. In the center of the line, his silver cloak untouched by the driving sleet, stood Cassian Vale. In his right hand, he carried a long, thin glass vial filled with a silver-veined fluid—the precise extraction compound of the King's blood-smiths.

The chandeliers hummed in the heat of so many bodies straining not to howl. Lucien lifted the ceremonial blade—silver-edged, iron-hilted—and without flinching drew it across his palm. Blood welled, dark and fierce, dripping into the Chalice. The liquid hissed against the stone, steam rising as if the Chalice itself fed on loyalty.

Sharper this time. I swallowed. My hands were shaking. I hugged my sketchbook tighter. He exhaled through his nose. Looked at the blood on his knuckles like it had personally offended him. Then he reached into his jacket, pulled out a black bandana, and started wrapping his hand. I watched, stupidly mesmerized. “Why were you there?” I asked quietly. His eyes flicked to mine. “I was passing through.” “Twice in two days you’ve ‘passed through’ exactly where I am.”

The cup responded, its surface slowly emanating a soft, ethereal glow. Approaching the first soldier in line, Baron dipped his blade into the cup, gliding the sharp edge across the soldier's thumb with a practiced hand. The soldier winced, a drop of crimson blood staining the blade. Baron moved swiftly down the line, repeating the process with each man until finally, the cup was filled with their life essence.

] Your blood can purify the curse. Without any second thoughts, I sliced my forearm with my claw and let my blood drip on my husband’s wounds. At first, it was crimson red. But as it dripped from my arm, the blood turned liquid gold and helped the healing process grow fast. But the curse was too strong. It wanted Dominic’s body. And my eyes were starting to go blurry as I started to lose so much blood.

It wasn’t meant for mortals, or even for werewolves like me. The air shifted, growing colder, heavier. The forest seemed to hold its breath. Even the night creatures had gone silent, as though they knew something terrible was about to happen. I drew the dagger and sliced my palm, the pain sharp and immediate. Blood welled up, dark and red, spilling into the waiting bowl. I added Paige’s blood next, mingling our life forces together. The moment the two drops touched, a low hum vibrated through the ground beneath my feet.

I uttered again and again, my hand parallel to each other, and on its center is the formed symbol of death on fire. If this is what it takes to avenge my loss, I don’t mind giving my life. “Ophelia! Don’t do that!” Queen Romina cried, but I only continued. “Mea vita pro morte sua…” My life for his death. The moment I opened my eyes, I felt like I was reborn in new and more powerful body. I could feel the overflowing energy on my veins, the heat of fire around me, my soul aching for blood, and my every nerve screaming for death.