Blood Warlock Novels & Stories

As I continued hurling spears and daggers into red, glowing, eyes, a thought occurred to me; how am I going to do this when daylight hits in just a few hours? I’m not going to be able to see glowing eyes. I went to the kitchen and grabbed a blackberry muffin for some instant energy. I sat at the table, eating my muffin and contemplating life when Billy sat next to me, “How are you holding up, little one?” I chuckled, “About as well as can be expected for a broken warrior.” Billy asked, “Why are you broken?” I explained, “I thought killing Dune would stop my night terrors and flashbacks, but I just added to it. Now I keep hearing him ask why I didn’t just let him mark me.” Billy sighed, “I ca

While, logically, I knew it was the right thing because the favor would be returned one day when we needed help, it was that much harder to explain it to their family members when I'd have to meet with them face-to-face. While the deaths of my pack members distressed me, they also brought me a fresh wave of energy to fight harder, kill more callously. More darts pinched my skin as they were able to plunge them into me, and I began to feel the familiar burn of wolfsbane as I realized I was getting close to my limit. And then I noticed wolfsbane darts raining from the other direction. Alex had clearly given his own warriors the go-ahead, presumably as he was in similar shape to me, continuing

The gold light crawling up my arms feels like fire and like home. “Wren,” Draven says. His voice is quiet. Careful. “Put the knife down.” I look at him. Really look. The bond is still there. Still burning. But under it, something else hums. Something older. Something that calls the light. Clay’s cry destroyed the tanks. Not the pack. Wrath was right. First Blood doesn’t kill wolves. It kills enemies. And right now, I don’t know who the enemy is. “Alistair,” I say. My voice doesn’t sound like mine. “Is he dead?”

And then a bolt of black fire shot from his palm, too fast to dodge. Someone moved. A blur of motion, a cry of warning - Dorian. He slammed into me from the side, knocking me clear. The bolt struck him. He hit the ground hard. Didn’t rise. I screamed. And something snapped. Light exploded from my body - silver, gold, fire-laced - a column of raw power that blasted outward in a ring, sending creatures flying and searing the earth black. The warlock staggered and for the first time, he bled.

"Leave this place quickly." "We'll wait for you at the Dragon Realm," Darcus replied. From the corner of my eye, I saw Alice covered in blood, her body pale, as Archer carried her away. The sadness within me intensified. I couldn't save Alice and her child. I had failed. Jerry punched me hard, snapping my attention back to my enemies, and I staggered back. I retaliated by delivering a powerful kick to Jerry's abdomen, sending him flying, crashing into the wall. The other warlocks tried to stop me, but I used my black magic fire, which surrounded me like a cloak of wrath and pain. The fire engulfed the warlocks who dared to challenge me.

I still have to come up with a short version for my unique power. Warwolf or werelock?

Their Battle-Mages began to chant, weaving a canopy of violet protective wards overhead. "Hold the line!" Elder Sterling screamed, his voice amplified by magic. "Purge the unclean!" The two armies collided with the force of a tectonic shift. The sound was deafening—the crunch of armor, the wet tear of flesh, the boom of magical detonations. Volkov was the tip of the spear. The Lycan Warlord, shifted into his massive, scarred war-form, hit the front line of the Wardens like a runaway train. He ignored the spears that poked at his thick hide. He swept a massive clawed hand out, shattering three shields and sending the soldiers behind them flying into the air like ragdolls.

I feel my eyes glowing and my hair is floating, my flames consume my body, making heat lick my skin, my identity forgotten in the wind. Anger and grief consume me, Sapphires bloodlust not helping. I tear into witches with my clawed hands, blood oozing out of their wounds. One after another they fall. They throw everything they have at me, dragon bane laced daggers, fireballs and electric shocks. Nothing does anything to stop me. Like an invisible force field around me I keep killing anyone in my path. “Give up already, you beast!” One of the warlocks yells. “You will die no matter what, but maybe we’ll spare your friends. You’re out numbered!” When he spoke of Creed and Raya something inside

No one could survive, not even the holiest of all. “It can affect but won’t kill me,” the bastard said through ragged breathing, “Not before I take you with me.” Moving fast, he fights with me. I didn’t notice he had a long blade in hand. Fighting like a pro, he defends and attacks. Every blow was stronger than the last one. He indeed was a strong vampire. Moving quickly, I try to find an opening. But, unfortunately, my lover had joined the fighting. I didn’t want no one to intervene, but I know what he was doing. The bastard didn’t know he was half warlock, so using his powers on him would benefit me.

The blood of Radenorian kings didn’t want to disappear in the demonic blood, which is why I have two gifts, why I look like my mother’s twin, why the ancestral palace can acknowledge me. “Did Ritanna Andago die of natural causes?” “For that, you can thank the blonde bitch that her father married,” the ghost replied, almost spitting. “Warlock blood...” Now that was interesting. There are various kinds of spell-casters in the world. Mages possess elemental powers; witches know the earth; and then, there are warlocks: those who were born with no power at all, but wanted it so much that it hurt. And those idiots summoned demons and made deals with them, giving them their souls and access to this