Novel & Cerita Blood On The Clocktower Grimoire

The relic pulsed again, faint gold light flickering beneath my wrist, like it wanted out. Then the air changed. A hiss. A whisper. The blood from Lucien’s wound spread in slow streams across the cracked floor, seeping into carved grooves I hadn’t noticed before. The lines flared red, snaking toward the walls. One by one, sigils lit up, circling the tower like a heartbeat. “No…” I backed up, eyes wide. “No, no, no—” A voice slid through the smoke. Smooth. Familiar. Cold.

And then I noticed something strange. They were moving toward me. Slowly. Almost like they were being pulled. I froze. The blood dropped from the air and soaked into the soil. The chimes stopped moving almost instantly. They settled back into stillness. I stared at them for a long moment. Had that really just happened? My pulse began to quicken again. The grimoire. Metal manipulation. Iron in the blood. I wiped my hand on my pants and picked up the knife again. Another quick cut.

We drift toward the dorm towers—old habits guiding feet. Rowan and Kayo linger last in the courtyard. Cherry petals swirl around them in soft pink clouds, catching in hair and on shoulders. Rowan’s grimoire hangs heavy at his side—pages singed black at edges, binding cracked from impacts, Deep Script ink still faintly glowing from final casts. Kayo’s tails flicker faint—foxfire dim from utter exhaustion, orange flames reduced to ember glow, fur matted with ice melt and dried ichor, ears drooping just a little.

The hallway disappeared. They were somewhere else now. Somewhere worse. --- The Second Trial: The Cursed Clock They stood in a massive, ancient clock tower. A giant clock hung overhead, its hands ticking backward. On the walls, more words appeared. "FIND THE RIGHT TIME, OR BE LOST IN TIME." A door appeared at the far end, locked by a golden dial with numbers. Mia frowned. “A puzzle?” Ryan inspected the clock face. “The hands are moving backward. Maybe we need to set them to the right moment.”

I ask, knowing this has to be some kind of witch thing I don’t understand. “This grimoire is all about blood magic,” Ivy replies. “It wants blood in order to be read.” I’m reminded I have not eaten in a while. Willow notices my discomfort and takes my hand offering me support. I’ve gone hungry and without blood for longer periods of time. I know I’ll be fine. “And why does the book want blood?” I try to distract myself with questions. “Because its previous owner was a witch who dabbled in some dark arcana. I don’t usually use this grimoire, but there is a specific spell that can be useful to us,” Ivy explains, not bothered at all by the cut on her arm.

(Salvatore's POV) It’s been days since I tasted a drop of fresh blood. I locked myself in my room, so I could read the ancient book I came across by accident in peace. The flickering candlelight casts eerie shadows on the ancient parchment, making the cryptic script dance across the paper. I lean closer, the musty scent of old paper filling my nostrils as I frantically try to decipher the hidden meaning within the pages. “Could this be?” I murmur, my hand shaking slightly as I trace a finger along a passage of text.

Something unusual happened when my fingertips stroked the ancient pages of the grimoire. A slight bulge was hidden on the inside of the lid. I carefully pulled it away, revealing an antique penny below. In my palm, the coin seemed weighty, like if it housed decades of secrets. The name of a location was etched on its surface: "Willowmere." To be honest, I had no idea what inscriptions were etched on this coin. Despite this, I was able to decipher the lettering as if there was some undiscovered supernatural help.

She could just make out the sound of Darren’s voice as he returned with the strangers in tow. “I’ve gotta get the hell out of here.” Elly’s chest heaved. The icy cold feel of panic flooded her veins threatening to freeze her in place. She reached down to pick her grimoire off the floor. It fell open to a page with blood-red writing scrawled across it. It was the same handwriting that popped up from time to time. It taught her everything she knew about herbs. But where did the writing come from this time?

"... Rick....trol....*cough out blood while saying the words* Mut....etai..." I struggled to cast my spell. " HIKARU!!" I could hear someone in the distance screaming my name as I said the last word of my spell. "...Bomount!" A blue clock appears on my chest turning back the time on my body. All the blood flows back into my body as my bones snap back into place. I healed just in time to roll out of the way of the creature. " *Sigh* That was close. " I muttered to myself as I watched the creature charging down the tunnel. It'll turn back!! I better get out of here!! I thought as I stood up just to come face to face with an extremely shocked Cynthia. Fu*k!! Did she see me use it?!

"A map to the Ancient Archives beneath the Grey Mountains. The place where the first records of the creation of the Shadow-Blood are kept." ​I stared at the map, then back to Thalia, who met my gaze with eyes that demanded the answers I had failed to give her. ​"It seems," I said softly, "that we are both about to discover the same truth, Thalia. Whether we like it or not." ​Outside the window of the medical wing, the morning sun climbed high over the ruins of the obsidian gates—but for some reason, its warmth felt colder than it ever had before.