Novel & Cerita Blood Of The Daedra

“There’s something I need to show you.” Alice frowned as Mira pulled out a small, leather-bound book, its edges worn and stained. She handed it to Alice, her fingers brushing hers—warm, too warm. “My family’s kept this for years. It’s… history. About the packs.” Alice opened it, her hands shaky. The pages were old, filled with cramped writing and strange symbols—circles, crescents, claws. One word jumped out: Hybrid. Her stomach twisted as she read a line: Born of man and moon, the one who carries both bloods shall break or bind the packs.

Most of the court had either fled, defected, or remained behind closed doors, terrified of what they no longer understood. Xander was the first to speak. "Three more confirmed deaths in the outlying camps. One in Grith Vale, two in the Blackpine Range. All Hollow Blooded. All drained." "They’re burning too hot," I said. "Their bodies weren’t meant to carry that kind of power without balance." Dahlia looked up from her newest vision sketch. A spiral, drawn over and over until the parchment tore. "The power is choosing," she murmured. "It doesn't want everyone. It wants a vessel. A single one."

Lyra gripped her bow, her silver hair whipping in the wind, while Torin growled, his scarred fur bristling. The pack’s warriors rallied, clawing out, but fear hung heavy in the air. The Daughter’s voice echoed in Aria’s mind: His blood will free the Abyss. “Stay close!” Aria shouted, her voice sharp. The crimson glow swallowed the moon, casting the camp in a blood-red haze. Her bond with Kael pulsed, his strength anchoring her, but the Oath’s whisper clawed at her: His blood or yours.Shadows surged from the rift, forming wolves with fur like burning blood, their eyes glowing with hunger.

Anine asked. "Your daughter needs the blood of the deity on it. When he appeares in human form, give him a cut. Do not wrestle with him. Just a cut. The blood of that body he uses is the only thing that is needed on this sword. Ajonwa is a Spirit but he uses the body to wreak havoc. Get the blood on the sword and he would be no more. "He would kill me!" Anine said almost loudly. "Once his blood touches the sword, he would be rendered powerless and he will never use that body again. Can you do it? Consider the generation yet unborn and what he would do to them. Remember what he did to you, would you allow him to do it to another?"

Hades doesn't seem bothered by the red smudging his fingers; this entire scene is his playground. “I repeat, what are your plans?” “I just told you. It’s not my fault you don’t believe me.” He punches and kicks me in the stomach simultaneously. I fall backward with the chair and hit the ground with a loud thud. I spit blood on the floor as Hades henchman lifts me up so he can hit me again, using his fists as if I were his punching bag. While Hades isn’t the most reckless like Pharaoah or the most ruthless like Laye, he’s the most brutish and doesn’t hesitate to use his force to get what he wants.

Blood welled, bright red, human red. Darius hissed, recoiling as though burned. The runes on the walls flared again, crimson to silver to white-hot. The tome on the altar burst into flame, not consuming pages, but illuminating them in stark relief. Words appeared, new words, hidden until blood touched the stone: The bridge bleeds willingly. The chain breaks only to re-forge stronger. Darius’s eyes widened. Elara clutched her bleeding hand to Kael’s wounded arm, pressing palm to wound.

The cover was worn, the pages yellowed with age, but the script inside was surprisingly legible. She flipped through it, her breath catching as she read the first few lines: "To those who follow, beware. The Blood King walks a path of shadows, tethered to the Crimson Fated by fate and fire. Their union will either save us or doom us all." Aria’s heart raced as she scanned further. The entries spoke of Lucian Draevan, the Blood King—a name she recognized from old hunter lore. He was a vampire lord from centuries past, known for his ruthlessness and enigmatic disappearance after a great war.

If he was going down, he would drag them straight into the abyss with him. ​With a sudden, violent leap, Cassian broke away from Dave. He scrambled up the stone steps of the dais, planting his hand directly onto the glowing crimson runes embedded in the backrest of the black throne. He began chanting a rapid, forbidden incantation in the ancient tongue of the lower vaults. ​Deep beneath Dave’s tunic, the blood-pact flared to life with a blinding, agonizing shockwave of crimson light. ​Laura gasped sharply, stumbling forward and clutching her chest as a wave of suffocating, crushing pain tore through her veins.

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.

"Father, look at him! He’s going to give her the robes from the old chests!" "Silence!" Bram roared, and this time the whole hall went completely dead. A boy dropped a jug by the door, the metal rolling across the stone before anyone dared to move. My father’s eyes went small and dark, until he looked like the old wolf that took the high seat during the Great Frost. "You talk about the bloodline like you built these walls yourself, boy. You have nothing but what I leave on the bench when my knees go stiff."