Blooded Warhammer Novels & Stories

Then her phone rang. She blinked and reached for it on the bed. The screen showed: Uncle Mario. She hesitated, then answered. “I hope you love everything,” his voice came through, calm but heavy. Amara froze. She didn’t expect the gifts to come from him. For a moment, she didn’t even know what to say. Mario continued, “Blood is thicker than water. Always remember... Leone blood runs in your vein. Even if our family is not smooth, don’t spit on your family name.”

Then stills. When I drop him, he’s already dead. For a heartbeat, the battlefield pauses. Ashgrave wolves stare, shock splintering through their ranks. Their Alpha, fallen. Redmaw’s, too. Two leaders lying in the dirt, their blood turning the snow almost black. Ashgrave scatters first, the shock of seeing Derren’s body enough to gut their spine. Redmaw follows when Jace signals the line forward and Blackthorn presses with vicious efficiency. The trenches swallow stragglers, Hazel’s arrows mark throats, Mara’s knives flash like punctuation in the chaos.

“Fall back! FALL BACK!” But it was too late. The battle had shifted. And we were losing. The Cost of War I don’t remember how I moved, how I reached Soraya, how I forced my magic deep enough to keep her breathing. But I did. My hands were dyed red with blood—hers, mine, theirs—there I was in the innermost halls of the fortress. The torchlight was dim over here, but Jameson was yelling orders somewhere nearby, and his sword flashed as he dispatched one attacker after another. Lilith didn’t appear anywhere but I knew she fought, she thrived in the chaos.

The page is yellowed and cracked at the edges, but the writing is clear — etched with the care of someone who knew it would matter. I read aloud: Three bloodlines born of war — one of beast, one of blade, one of both. From the ash of the first war shall rise six marked by fate. Three shall carry the blood of the wolves. Three shall carry the blood of the hunters. Bound by fire and torn by legacy, They will stand at the brink of annihilation. One must choose vengeance. One must choose unity. One will rise to destroy. One will rise to redeem. The rest... shall fall.

The city awoke to red banners. They hung from half-burned towers and broken cathedrals, painted with the sigil of the Queen — a serpent biting its own tail, coiled around a bleeding sun. Her followers called themselves The Children of Bloodlight. They prayed at the ruins of embassies, lit fires beneath her name, and spoke her decrees like scripture. “Her blood was our birthright. Her fire, our redemption. The world ended, and she began.”

Warriors seemed as if they were bewitched and transfixed as sigil swarmed their hands and bodies. They looked like they were thronged by neon ruby leeches. They started to fight amongst themselves mercilessly and kill each other. Limbs, blood and guts exploded throughout Sanguineabyss. Even Nexelex seemed to be affected by this slaughtering spree. He killed several faes and a few of his own warriors.

This cannot be changed. There are no bushes or trees around - only an endless grassy sea splashing in the crimson glow of the sunset. Grass that has acquired the color of blood. What is this, a sign? Yes, it's possible. This is an endless sea, hiding a lot of events: from distant and forgotten battles to real and yet to come wars. Two huge hosts are placed against each other, two crushing forces, two different worlds that oppose each other - the empire of Iri'es'Shar of the Dark World and those who will choke on their own blood - Arahssharrs!

The battlefield was drenched in blood and smoke. The once–golden grasslands at the border between kingdoms were nothing more than charred earth, littered with the bodies of wolves, vampires, and Lycans alike. The war that never should have been had swallowed everyone whole, and its fury showed no signs of slowing.

The trees grew closer together, the crystal branches intertwining above them, creating a canopy that blocked out the sky. The whispering grew louder, and they could now make out Adelia’s voice clearly. She was calling their names, begging for help. They followed the sound until they reached a clearing, where they saw Adelia standing in the centre, surrounded by a group of shadowy figures. Russe and Reina transformed into their werewolf form again, ready for battle. They charged towards the figures, their claws slashing through the darkness. As they fought, they caught glimpses of the figures’ faces, and their blood ran cold. They were the lost souls of the forest, trapped in this realm and c

Attached to the belt were two Khopesh; U-shaped curved bladed sabers with a convex edge, one of the Khopesh was midnight blue, while the other gleamed a brilliant silver color. Hidden from any gaze, inside this golden metal exoskeleton, was a being made up of bandages, dry skin and ancient bones; He did not have eyes, in the place where they should be found, there were only a pair of red flames that burned with a slight intensity. Although impossible to recognize from the outside, what was inside was a Mummy, a mythical undead from an ancient civilization; but this was not just any kind of mummy, it was a Mummy warlord, his name was lost a long time ago, erased from any record to be forgotte