Blood Song Novels & Stories

Ludo’s finger was on delete shaking. “Don’t press that button.” Ludo heard the voice nearer. Ludo slowly turned her head to see who it was. The footsteps got even more closer. “You!” Ludo yelled. “What? The sick girl?” The voice said, surprised. “Don’t kill me,” Ludo’s voice sunk as she slowly fell on her bed fainting. "Sh*t!", Hunter cussed.

Their stink was very fresh, and still leading up the mountain. Was it possible they’d already made it inside? We were walking up on a bloodbath? Had we been too late? Please, God, no. ***** Soundtrack for the next chapter is “Pandora” by 2WEI and Edda Hayes.

Still at Teatro Della Notte, the silence after death was always loudest. The stage was still slick with blood - black, steaming, and unnatural - but none of them moved. Not even Selene, whose fingertips hovered inches from the cursed violin again. “The violin’s cry…” she murmured, her voice distant, like it was trapped in a memory she hadn’t consented to remember. “It’s not just cursed, it summons. That’s what it was designed for... The Blood Sorrow Song - yhe perfect trifecta.”

BLOOD AND VOWS --- CHAPTER ONE THE HIT “In this life, love doesn't kill you. Loyalty does.” - The wine glass tipped a second before the explosion. Emilia Romano didn’t hear the blast first—she felt it. A deep, gut-punch thud that rattled the floor and cracked the windows like bones snapping in a quiet room. Her father’s car. Gone. She didn’t scream. She stood there barefoot on the marble, wine dripping from her fingers, glass shattered around her feet. The air pulsed with heat from the hilltop, where smoke now curled into the twilight like a funeral veil.

Far away, in that red-water world, Collin threw himself against the crack again, teeth bared, howling her name. Not yet, the cold voice breathed. He snarled, wrath like a wildfire, and slammed his fists into the split so hard light bled through his knuckles. Then wake me, he roared back. Or I’ll tear you apart, too. Not yet, it whispered again. Then louder: Bloodmoon. Collin froze. His breath hitched. Bloodmoon, the voice repeated, colder now. Bloodmoon calls. Bloodmoon releases. Bloodmoon unbinds. Collin’s eyes widened.

The Blood-Rain was not a metaphor. It was a physical corruption, a heavy, metallic downpour that stained the world a deep, visceral crimson. As the ten thousand newly awakened Hallowed warriors marched out of the Silver Mines, the sky seemed to be hemorrhaging. Each drop that landed on the skin felt like a needle-prick of sorrow, a cold, cloying reminder of the lives Selene had sacrificed to fuel her ascension.

The air grew heavier with each passing hour, as though the world itself was bracing for something unnatural. Ever since the gods’ messenger appeared, the countdown had begun—seven days until the Day of the Blood Moon. Seven days to prepare. Seven days to survive. Ava sat beneath the twisted elder tree outside the sanctuary, the bark behind her pulsing faintly as if aware of her presence. The wind was sharp, slicing through the night with whispers. Her fingers traced the mark on her wrist—ever since she mixed her blood with Achi’s, the mark had darkened, a signal that something ancient had awakened.

Leonard, meanwhile, sat at the head of the table with the men, his voice calm but commanding, like he was orchestrating a symphony only he could hear. Dinner began. Conversation buzzed. I tried to steady my hands as I lifted my glass, pretending the crystal didn’t tremble against my fingers. And then it happened. The wine slipped before I even realized it—scarlet liquid blooming like blood across the lap of Bianca Moretti, the wife of the rival boss himself. The hall stilled. Forks paused mid-air. “Oh God….” I reached for a napkin, mortified, but Bianca caught my wrist before I could dab at the spreading stain.

No! The shot echoed in the clearing. Dante fell. Chaos Elena screamed. Antonio lunged at Alessandro, knocking him down. Marco and Luca ran toward Dante. Enzo grabbed De Luca, who was trying to escape. Andrea covered the others, gun in hand. "Dante!" Elena was at his side, her hands pressing on the wound. "Dante, look at me!" He opened his eyes. Blood was flowing from his shoulder; it wasn't fatal, but there was a lot.

## ELARA'S POV The sound of Dante hitting the floor wasn't a clean, cinematic thud. It was a horrible, heavy crash that rattled the metal legs of the table. His head struck the concrete with a sickening crack, and then there was just this awful, dead silence. For a second, nobody breathed. The dark pool of blood beneath him didn't stop. It just rushed faster out of his side, spreading across the gray concrete like spilled ink. "Dante?" Sophia’s voice didn't sound like her at all. It was high, thin, and completely stripped of its usual iron. She dropped to her knees so hard I heard her kneecaps hit the floor. "Dante! Hey, look at me. Look at me!"