Blood On The Clocktower Grimoire Novels & Stories

[The Transfusion of Souls] The air in the Gilded Cage had grown impossibly heavy, charged with the static of an approaching storm. Outside, the Alpine wind shrieked against the reinforced glass, a choir of ghosts mourning the secrets spilled from the Red Box. Inside, the flickering firelight cast long, skeletal shadows across the floor, where the 1890 photograph lay like a curse.

Below on a cured Cypress tree truck stand, was her book of Shadows, leather-bound, thousands of years old, it was handed down to her from her ancestors, and an evil lot. Her sanctum awaited her. The old cauldron stood off to the side —black water mixed with blood already inside, still as glass until summoned, to show what she could not see. She placed the vial of Bram’s blood beside it — a trophy she had kept from paid work long ago. “He never learned,” she murmured. “Never clean up after a deal.” She counted 6 drops into the water. Repeating her incantation. The water turned ink-dark instantly.

Anya dropped beside him and pressed her hands to the wound, trying to heal it with golden light, but the mixed blood resisted her magic and flared brighter. Elders watched from the edges with knowing eyes. My aunt met my gaze across the hall and gave the smallest nod, as if this too fit their design. The red moon climbed higher through the tall windows and bathed the entire scene in crimson. I gripped the crystal vial tighter. The blood inside pulsed in time with the growing disorder. Damien rose slowly, eyes locked on me with pure murder. Rowan looked between us, confusion and rage battling across his face. The fake corpse in the casket suddenly seemed like the least dangerous thing in the

They paused at the cliff’s edge, where the sea clawed at the rocks far below. Moonlight revealed a glimpse of pale skin, lips curled in a sharp smile. “Maya,” they murmured, tasting the name like a curse. “The forbidden child. The mistake.” A raven dropped from the sky, landing on their outstretched arm. Its eyes glowed faintly red, reflecting secrets only its master knew. The cloaked figure stroked its feathers absently. “Your mother may hide you beneath the wolves’ protection, but blood always finds its way home. Andwhen it does…” The figure’s smile widened. “The

Link burst into the nursery, eyes blazing, claws half-shifted. “They’re trying to breach the grove,” he growled. “No,” I said, lifting Logan into my arms. “They’re trying to take the crown.” Cassian We met them in the roots. Beneath Grey Howl lies the heartwood—sacred, ancient, pulsing with the bones of old kings. And tonight, it ran slick with blood. They came in silence. Eyes black. Hands etched with blood. Chanting in tongues I’d only ever seen scrawled across tomb walls.

“Gemma’s locking down the borders. No one gets in or out until we find the source.” The source. My stomach twisted. I already knew. My mother’s grimoire had a warning scrawled in her hand, Moonwater turned black is not nature’s doing. It’s a curse wearing poison’s face. “I can fix this,” I said before I could stop myself. Damon turned sharply. “Ivy..” “I said I can fix it.” I was already moving toward the apothecary tent. My hands shook as I pulled the ancient grimoire from my satchel.

"This brings him?" "Maybe. Needs your blood—lover's tie." Portal time. I went back to the frozen world. I raced back, book clutched. "My magic is becoming weak. The spell will soon expire. Very soon, you would be unable to return to the real world." "I have a grimoire!" Thelma scanned. "Yes! This works." We prepped—my blood on his chest. Chants rose. Power exploded. Coffin shook. "Did it?" Astrid gasped.

They wouldn't be waking up anytime soon, but I couldn't risk them raising an alarm. With the guards taken care of, I approached the Heart Chamber door. It was sealed with old magic—Blood Moon magic—but I had come prepared. I pulled out a small vial of blood I'd gathered years ago from Charles Winters himself, during a peace meeting between our packs. He never knew I'd taken it, or that I'd kept it all these years for this very moment. I splashed the blood against the door. The old marks glowed red, then the door slid open with a grinding sound.

I could tell he noticed who I was watching. “Pass me that wine,” I said, pointing toward the shelf beside the cabinet. He picked it up and brought it over. “No glass?” he asked. I shook my head. “I don’t need it.” I pulled the cork and drank straight from the bottle. The burn hit immediately, but it didn’t kill anything inside me. I could still feel that same knot in my chest. Scorpion didn’t leave as well. He stood near the door, watching me. Then he looked at the screen again.

“The room has been abandoned.” I stepped closer. “Was there anything inside?” He hesitated. “A bloodstained cloak.” Silence settled over the chamber and I turned toward Peter, but he looked as though he had seen a ghost. The color had drained completely from his face, and sweat had begun gathering at his temples. Damon noticed it too and he suddenly reached for Peter’s wrist and pulled back the man’s sleeve. A fresh red mark was visible against his skin. My breath caught, it was ink , the same kind of ink I had seen on Lyra’s wrist.