Blood On Ice Skyrim Novels & Stories

- Miranda screamed rising up in terror as she saw more blood dripping down her arm, leaving everyone dumbfounded. The same blood that had started flowing from Soraia's arm as soon as she had cut it with the penknife and then stuck the straw into the exposed vein. Amy turned her face away as Soraia did the same blood process with her mother's arm, both becoming covered in blood. Sitting at the entrance of another cave, Marcus and Augustus gazed at the vastness of the forest and sky, their arms resting on bent knees. And they inhaled into the air the strong, metallic smell of Soraia and Katrina's fresh blood.

I picked up my sidearm. He shook his head and sighed, eyeing Drak then looked at us. “It’s fine, Drak. I’m just picking up my knife. I want to show you the color of my blood. If someone is created by black magic or infected by demons. The blood color is almost black. Okay? Let me show you.” “Slowly,” Ryden said. “While we’re here wasting time, Ren doesn’t have much to stay alive.” He showed us his knife and ran the blade against the skin on his arm.

Panic hit me fast and sharp, and I twisted, but the bindings didn’t budge. Then the burn in my hand made me freeze. I looked down. A thin line of blood ran from a fresh cut across my palm, dripping steadily into a silver goblet on the floor. My stomach flipped. The sight of my own blood didn’t scare me, but the reason behind it did. It hadn't been to hurt me, not really. It was almost like the goblet was there to hold my spilled blood, which was absurd. After all, what use could my blood possibly be?

I kept quiet and let Orion do his job, and that's when I saw it—blood—her blood—dripping down her legs. She quickly hid it, but I'd seen enough. Nyra's blood wasn't red. It hummed, as if it was calling out for me under the firelight. Her blood was like molten moonlight—a fine blend of silver with faint streaks of crimson. "Leave us!" I ordered Orion. He skimmed around the room to collect his things and hurriedly scurried. "What is that?" I asked, my voice hoarse with emotion. Nyra shrugged as if I were hallucinating, "Nothing. It's just—"

I stood upright despite my trembling legs, gasping for breath. The sorcerer moved closer. With a swift motion, he created a long ice blade glowing with an icy blue light in his hand. The blade shot forward and carved a deep diagonal slash across my chest. The pain was unbearable. I staggered backwards, pressing a hand against the wound. My blood poured freely, dripping onto the stone floor. But then something strange happened. The blood that touched the ice blade suddenly ignited. Not ordinary fire—this fire was black, yet hotter than any normal flame.

Looking for the tell-tale red bleed of the Feral Rot. He expected to see a dying beast. Expected to see the madness foaming behind my pupils. "I was dying," I admitted. "The silver... it was deep. It burned." Barzil released me, stepping back with a scowl. "And yet, you stand here. You speak. Your color returns." He crossed his arms over his chest armor. Ceramics clicked against plasteel. "Explain." I looked down at my stomach. The blood—my blood—was still drying on my skin. Sticky. Gold. Cooling rapidly in the toxic wind. But beneath it...

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

Before I know it, the King tucks out a blade and slashes my front torso slantwise; from my left shoulder to a point near my right hip. The sudden pain causes me to wince as I nearly choke on the blood spurting from my mouth. It is a good thing I always could endure pain. If not, trying not to flinch or act like I’m going through one would have been a massive failure. As blood gushes out of the wound, most flowing down my legs and filling the dents, I watch the Umbra Crown slit his left palm to let his blood drip into the sword dent too. The rock, meant to react to blood, releases components that mix with the blood and gradually stiffens the latter.

He stepped right up to the port, his breath fogging the exterior glass. "Look at the floor!" Bianca screamed, her voice cracking into a sob. She reached for the water bottle on the tray and squeezed it hard, letting the liquid pool beneath her hips, mixing with the smears of red from her split knuckles. In the dim amber light, it looked like a dark, spreading stain. "It’s the blood! It’s the blood of the heir! Call a medic! Get the manual override! Ahh! F**king help me!"

The Blade of Kings blazed brighter with every step. Varkor snarled. "Insolent child!" He shook violently, trying to throw me off. I drove the Blade into one of the glowing crimson veins running beneath his scales. The ancient beast roared. Silver light burst through the wound. For the first time... Varkor bled. Not crimson. Silver. He stumbled backward. "Impossible..." Nyros looked up in amazement. "The Blood Flame..." "It's weakening." Commander Cassian immediately raised his spear.