Blood On Ice Skyrim Novels & Stories

Crimson blood scattered on the ground and Amara's painful scream rang in the air, its echo resounding in the desolate silence. Her face turned pale and a few drops of blood landed on her face, tainting her skin with crimson. Her tear-filled gaze locked onto Killian, his jaw was clenched tightly as he held his arm. His right arm was relentlessly bleeding where the bullet had found its mark, piercing through his skin brutally.

The urge to throw up is intense at the moment as my brain tries to grasp knowledge of what the King is doing to himself right now. “Why would you do that?” I scream at him, but I actually screamed out of concern for him. I’m forced to look back at his wound. My lips twitch, and my brows furrow when I notice the color of his blood. It’s not red. A golden color drips from his palms, down to the tiles— it looks like ichor, golden ichor. “Your blood…” I trail. He stares quietly, his face numb of any pain. It’s almost like he can’t feel the effects of what he has done to himself.

At first I suppose I’d assumed it was my mind playing tricks on me, considering all the blood I’ve had to see today. But when my eyes finally open, I’m looking at a dark night sky illuminated by a vibrant crimson moon. I gasp, looking down to see the beams of red moonlight spilling over my body. Under the blood-hued light of the sky above, I suddenly realize that I’m not bleeding anymore. I touch my fingertips to my chest tentatively. They don’t come away dry–after all, my clothes have been entirely matted with blood and grime. But there doesn’t seem to be any fresh blood.

I choke out, the taste of blood staining my mouth as panic tightens its grip around my heart. Amidst the chaos, Nickolas’s voice cuts through the turmoil, sharp and commanding. “Now!” he yells, and in an instant, a shimmering shield materializes around us, encasing us in an impenetrable bubble. I whirl to face him as my legs crumple beneath me, pulling me to the ground. I cough up thick streams of crimson that spill over my lips and chin. “Thank you, Amelia,” Nickolas purrs, his voice dripping with malice as he throws a silver blade to the grass, the metallic tang of blood tainting the air. But it’s not just any blood—it’s mine. A chilling realization sends shivers down my spine.

I spoke with a soft sigh; I shot my eyes tight. I felt a warm and moist feeling in my nose. With my index finger, I wiped my nose with my palms. The blood I saw this time was not the usual one, it was usually a few drops. I thought it was just the minor stress that I usually put myself through that caused it. I looked at my hand gloves, it was covered in thick red blood. they formed thick blood clots. I gasped, doing my best to stop the bleeding. My hands were shaky or maybe I was the one wobbly.

shape, vein pulsating in my head. The sky had turned red. Rain fell thick and heavy—more like blood than water. Soldier cries rose and fell like waves as bodies collapsed across the battlefield. “Scarlet, stay with me.” I pleaded, watching blood pour from her side. “And why the—why aren’t you healing?” I snarled at the sky, pain tearing through me. My tears tasted of iron; the world around us kept dying. “Hey.” She reached for my hand, voice weak but urgent, pulling me back as I tried to lunge.

Metallic blood. The bow fell from my hands and the room spun around me. One entire part of my tank top was soaked in blood. The red pool steadily leaked from my wrist. Still, I couldn’t feel the pain but I was dizzy. “Amber!” Mina was the first one to break the silence, rushing towards me immediately.

They shimmer like tiny stars in the crimson pool. Jasper coughs blood onto Lucian's hand. Silver flecks glimmer in it.

His gaze was fixed on nothing, pupils blown wide, hi face blank with shock. He turned slowly, breathing steady, and walked toward Azxel. His shoes left faint red prints on the floor. Azxel didn’t look up until Sky was right in front of him. Sky crouched, bringing them eye level. His hands still slick with blood rose gently to Azxel’s face. He wiped at the tear tracks on Azxel’s cheeks with his thumbs, smearing blood across his pale skin. The edge of the folded knife in his right hand pressed lightly against Azxel’s jaw as he did it just enough for the metal to kiss skin, a tiny sting that drew a thin bead of blood.

He stepped forward, his massive frame towering over the vampire as he looked down into the folds of the cloak. The Alpha's dark eyes instantly narrowed as he caught the visual markers of the crisis. Brynn’s face was pale, her soft jasmine scent heavily laced with the metallic, intoxicating tang of primordial vampire blood. But what Garick saw first—what caused his wolf instincts to flare with a protective panic—were the thin, smoky purple-and-black tracks of the Blood-born venom still faintly webbing across her collarbone. They were visibly fading, dissolving into her sun-kissed skin as Riheirk’s ancient, healing blood aggressively incinerated the last remnants of the poison from her system.