Novel & Cerita Blood Shades

The knife shatters. Light explodes from my palm, white and cold, and the forest screams. Witch blood, feral blood, Hollow blood, all of it burns through me. Draven’s on the ground, convulsing. His skin splits with black veins, the same ones the ferals had. “Draven,” I drop beside him, my hands smoking. “Draven, look at me.” His eyes snap open. Gold, then black, then silver. Not his color.

My head is spinning, the world tilting around me, but I say, “I'm not done.” Killian’s eyes flick to my shoulder, then meets mine. “How are you still standing?” It's then I remember I'm losing blood. The blood spilling from my shoulder makes my limbs heavy, and my vision flickers. I can feel the cold creeping in, and I stagger backwards. My back slams against the wall, and I slide down to the ground, my body too weak to hold me up. My consciousness slips in and out as I fight to stay awake. I look up at Killian. He's just standing there, watching me.

The arrival of the "Void-Vanguard"—the original Shadow Claws now possessed by the Architects' "Liquidation Frequency"—turned the twilight into a funeral. They emerged from the violet-lilies of the forest like ripples in a dark pond, their armor a matte, scentless obsidian, their eyes two solid pools of liquid silver. They moved with the rhythmic, mechanical precision of a clockwork nightmare, their blades creating a low-frequency hum that made the vibrant colors of the North bleed out once again.

Kandreah’s POV Sanguineabyss is a vast subrealm within Wengarthria. So big that it could be a realm in its own right. Mud and blood are squelching beneath our feet. Its name is warranted by all means. Sanguine means blood in Latin. And this shithole really looks like an abyss of blood. The sky above us is a horizon saturated with ruby and crimson tones, reminding me of bloodied curtains of some perverse shit show while the smell of blood is flowing through all of my senses. I could live without blood for a long time as long as I have a regular influx of necromancy within me.

The White Tide crown lay across the ravine behind us. It rose from the ground. The crowned shadow reached for it through Raiken’s body. I pulled the white wolf forward. Not fully. Just enough. Claws formed at my fingertips. White light spread across my skin. I drove my hand against Raiken’s chest. The shadow screamed. The pack recoiled. Black smoke tore from his mouth. It gathered above us, shaping itself into the false king. Shin threw his blade. The shadow caught it. Then laughed. You cannot kill blood.

The same strength sucking world she’d insisted on walking one last time before the boys got back. I looked down at her, eyes closed, teeth clenched, struggling to hang on. I balanced her silver ring, a gift from our Mother, on my knee and pulled my grey sleeve over my finger tips, dabbing at the beading sweat on her forehead. Something was happening in the Blacklands and for the first time in memory, Shades were crossing the Southern boundry in droves, bringing with them their violet sky and starless nights. They didn’t eat, they didn’t sleep, they didn’t stop. They just kept coming, pushing us back and taking our land, leaving a sea of dead bodies in their wake.

With intestines dangling and blood dripping, she flew into the darkness. A few blocks away from the building a young gorgeous lady is waiting for her bus ride back home. She sat by the bench underneath a semi-parabolic dome listening to Spotify. Engrossed in what she is doing, the lady is unaware of the creature silently flying above her. Smelling the scent of fresh teenage blood, Sarah ejected her long pointed tongue that punctured the synthetic dome and hit her prey on her nape. She then commenced sucking her blood as the victim struggled to set herself free. This time the girl was ready. With a sharp hunting knife in hand, she slashed at the tongue which caused it to be disengaged from he

Black blood sprayed, sizzling against the rug. Pelin cried out but pulled the blade free and struck again. And again. Each strike made the thing weaker, its body collapsing, melting into shadow. By the fourth stab, its form unraveled, boiling. The hissing cries turned to a low gurgle before it melted into a puddle of tar at my feet. I sat back hard, panting, my body drenched in sweat. The room fell into silence except for Pelin’s ragged breaths. She stared at the blade in her hand, still trembling, black ichor dripping from its edge.

"Want to see something? Come here and open this box." I got up quietly and went to that box. The thought of what would be inside that box made my heart restless. I extended one hand and opened it within the next breath. A dead body, covered from head to foot with new white linen, was lying under the box. He slid his hands and removed the linen. Her clothes were like that of a royal queen with bloodstains over them. There was grief on her face. And a broken bangle tied around her hand with sharp edges. One end of the bangle pierced her vein, and the blood fell off. Her skin seemed colder.

His eyes were an amazing shade of gold, and just now they sparkled with the dark promise of death. Almost too fast to follow his movements, the dark-haired man crossed the room with its crumbling plaster walls and stood behind the wolf with two curved, ornate hand sickles already in his hands. The soft ringing of metal resounded as he swung with expert precision, not even brushing her hair with his blades while he decapitated her tormenter. The head that had just been level with hers went one direction, while the hands gripping her arms fell away and the body toppled to the floor on her other side. Her mouth fell open in stunned horror, then clamped firmly shut again as she was sprayed with