Blood On The Clocktower Trouble Brewing Novels & Stories

"He’s down there. With Leo. He’s waiting for the blood to match the stone." Suddenly, the house let out a violent shudder. The books on the shelves began to rattle, and the blue light in the floor turned a deep, angry crimson. The final countdown had begun.

But the Goddess, kind of completely dissolved, left behind nothing at all except that echo of her last, haunting saying, “The blood-drinkers have come for the crown.” The mid-morning sun snapped back into the sky like it was furious or something. Before anyone could even properly catch up with what the divine warning meant, the deafening, frantic blare of the eastern watchtower’s horn tore through the coronation silence. An Obsidian Claw scout didn’t only run into the courtyard, he practically hurled himself through the front gates, all sea-salt smeared over him and black ash clinging, like he’d been dragged straight out of a furnace.

It turned out that people like them eventually meet someone worse. I lowered the brim of my cap and turned to leave, not wanting to be recognized. However, fate has a twisted sense of humor. My leather shoe stepped on a dry leaf. Crunch. Brian's head snapped up. Our eyes met. His eyes went wide. Like he had seen a ghost. Or a savior. "Bro?!" That single shout drew everyone's attention. My dad looked up, too, a flicker of light in his eyes. "Chester… Chester!"

He grabbed my waist, and together we surged upward, following the pull of the silver thread. We breached the surface of the ink, gasping for air that smelled of wet parchment. We weren't in the hallway anymore. We were in a vast, circular chamber. In the center, a massive, clock like mechanism made of bone and brass turned slowly. Each "tick" of the clock was the sound of a name being crossed out in a ledger.

Stella–POV I tossed and turned; sleep eluded me. Frustrated, I sat up and made my way to retrieve the diary, hoping to find a way to unlock its secrets. I carefully pulled out the journal and, once again, attempted to open it using a hammer on the small lock. To my dismay, it remained stubbornly shut. Exhausted and defeated, I sank back, only to feel a hot trickle of blood from my nose— a telltale sign of stress. Scrambling to find a tissue box, I heard an unexpected click, and to my surprise, the lock popped open, triggered by a drop of blood.

Cassandra’s breath caught in her throat, sharp and sudden, like it had slammed into a wall. The air in the room was thick, too thick. Tainted. Every inhale stung like smoke. Darius stood at the center of the storm, still as stone, holding a blood-slick screwdriver in his hand. Red dripped from its tip in slow, deliberate drops, marking the marble floor with a rhythmic tick… tick… tick, as if time itself had stopped to watch what would happen next.

I could feel the last bit of warmth leaving my body, but at the same time, a twisted sense of satisfaction washed over me. The Blood Mirror didn't just extract memories. When the blood of the accused runs dry, the mirror reveals the Final Truth—a reflection not of memory, but of absolute reality. A scene surfaced. It wasn't a distant memory. It was from half a month ago—the real truth behind this so-called "murder." An abandoned clock tower stood stark against the night sky. A figure in a black cloak waited on the roof. It was the leader of the Fallen, a traitor exiled by the clan. His eyes burned with hatred for all pureblood royals.

The air crackled with tension, thick with the scent of blood and sweat. I stood beside Roy, our backs pressed together as we faced the chaos erupting around us. The moon hung low in the sky, casting an eerie glow that painted everything in shades of crimson. It was a blood moon, and its presence felt like an omen of the violence that surrounded us.

The trees leaned as though trying to flee. ⸻ Day Seven. The final countdown. Ava stood by the ancient ruins, the wind wrapping around her like a cloak. Achi joined her, his body tense but steady. “We started this with fear,” she said, her voice clear, “but we’ll finish it with truth.” Behind them, Marcus and Darius watched in silence. Neither dared speak. The ground itself seemed to breathe with anticipation. The Blood Moon began to rise—larger than ever, swollen and pulsing with power. Its red light painted the world in warning.

I came back three hours later, having satisfied myself with the blood of two vibrant humans who made a futile effort in the course of saving their lives. Seated on the stairs leading to the second floor is an agitated Baron who stood up the moment he saw me. Taking in my blood stained collar, he furrowed his brows as his concern heightened. "Why are you stained in blood!? Where is Lucy? What have you done to her!?" Is that the reason why he's so worked up? Because he thinks the blood on my cloth is Lucy's? He might have tried to get into my room but couldn't because it is locked and the key is lying comfortably in my breast pocket.