Blood Upon The Risers Meaning Novels & Stories

He stepped forward, his massive frame towering over the vampire as he looked down into the folds of the cloak. The Alpha's dark eyes instantly narrowed as he caught the visual markers of the crisis. Brynn’s face was pale, her soft jasmine scent heavily laced with the metallic, intoxicating tang of primordial vampire blood. But what Garick saw first—what caused his wolf instincts to flare with a protective panic—were the thin, smoky purple-and-black tracks of the Blood-born venom still faintly webbing across her collarbone. They were visibly fading, dissolving into her sun-kissed skin as Riheirk’s ancient, healing blood aggressively incinerated the last remnants of the poison from her system.

The city dims, like a candle turned low, and the ground ignites beneath my feet—not with light, but with meaning. Blood blooms across the stones. Layered. Counted. Cataloged. Human blood is the first thing I register—thin, pale, almost translucent. Fear-heavy. The kind spilled by people who never saw the blow coming. There isn’t much of it here, only residue tracked in by boots and panic. Bystanders. Collateral. Then the wolves. Their blood burns hotter, thicker, streaked through with silvered heat. Three distinct signatures. No—four. One was injured but escaped. Alpha-trained fighters. Not scavengers. Not young.

I walked up to him and we made our way onto the balcony. They were runes, burned on to the railings. And a bubbling puddle of blood lay on the floor. What. The. Fu*k

We walked in, with each step in my back tensed, and my fingers curled. Something was terribly wrong. The moment we were in fully, I saw it. My heart banged loudly, sweat formed on my forehead and brows. Goosebumps covered my arms solely. It was on the floor. All over the floor. It was fresh. FRESH! Blood. It had pooled in a shallow basin that was sitting comfortably in the middle of this portal, the basin seemed to have a joke underneath it, where the blood spilled into working its way around. Dark magic. No, blood magic.

he asked. "Like a baby.. it's the only remedy for those nightmares I keep having" I replied with a shrug. As we stepped out of the house and hurried towards where our motorcycles were parked, I couldn't help but welcome the fresh air filling my lungs; replacing the horrible stench of blood and death. We waited for the chaos to begin before riding away. Tonight was a big victory for me; big pity I won't be around to see Richard's face but I'll be kind enough to send him some flowers.

I’m crawling out with a trail of blood: their blood. They think I’ll crawl when I leave, but they’re wrong. I’ll drag myself out by the teeth, trailing their blood behind me. I’ll rise like a curse, wearing their blood like a crown. And maybe by then, my blood won’t just answer to me—it will devour for me. Let them keep carving. Every cut is a summoning.

Alessio’s Pov “What the hell are you talking about?” I snapped, confused as hell by Raven’s sudden interruption. She didn’t answer. Just pointed, at me. I raised my hand, brushed the underside of my nose. It was warm and wet. Blood. I stared at the red smear on my fingertips, my pulse picking up immediately. “What the fuck—?” I turned sharply to Valerius. “What is the meaning of this?” Diego and the rest of my pack were already rising to their feet. Chairs scraped violently across the stone floor. Raven stood too, her dagger already slipping into her hand like second nature.

Which should've been more peaceful but it wasn’t. "That tile's raised," Alerion cautioned. "Step there and you might as well kiss your legs goodbye." "My eyes are working very fine, you don’t need to point out any danger," Lysander replied. "Doesn’t seem like u." "I was going around it." "You were walking directly toward it, Lysander, I watched you." "Look at the ceiling runes." Lysander pointed up without looking at Alerion. "They're pulsing. That means active. That means whatever they're attached to is still armed. You were so busy watching my feet you almost walked us into a trigger."

Levi Blood drips from my hands, trickling down my fingers like crimson tears. My shirt is stained, the white fabric soaked with the dark red liquid. I make my way into the tall building, a majestic skyscraper with a sleek, modern design. The ceiling made entirely of glass allowing the light to sip in unhindered. I'm pissed to the core as I make my way to the elevator, my feet grazing the polished graphite wooden floors. The metallic scent of blood lingers in the air around me, the trail of blood behind me as it drips from my hand and once white sparkling shirt.