Romans & histoires Bloodhound's Fang Elden Ring Location

A vampire lunged at us but Zilver ripped him apart in a matter of seconds. Every faction of our world was present and indulging in a bloody battle. Tons of lives were about to be lost. I needed to find Karica, I could sense her nearby. Adiyan had gone to her rescue but I had to look for her now before Vildus found them both and caused more damage. A deafening roar erupted from somewhere around our right and Zilver swirled around and came face-to-face with the largest hellhound I had ever seen. The leathery black skin was taut over its lean body, and its crimson eyes with flickers of gold were fixated on me. The elongated fangs were dripping saliva and blood as if he had recently hunted somet

“A couple… who were they? Where are they now?” “They’re dead,” he said in an apologetic tone. “Both of them were killed in a rogue attack years ago.” I closed my eyes, fighting the rush of grief for two people I didn’t even remember. “Elena, Bloodwood Forest… it borders the Lycan Kingdom.” I opened my eyes in surprise. “WHAT?!” “And not just anywhere.” His gaze locked with mine because he knew I needed his reassurance before he could continue with the last piece of information. “It’s on the foothills of Mt. Silverstone.”

(From blood and earth, I bind this form) (Through water and will, I withstand the storm) (By this sigil, the mark of my eye) (I shall find you wherever you lie) “There,” he continued as he brushed his palms against each other, now we won't lose track of him or Orion. He'll be found.” “Are we ready?” Eliza asked “Yup!” “Here goes nothing!” She muttered as she pushed the button releasing the houndra who sprinted out of the enclosure with the speed of wind.

"What the hell is that?" "Elena’s curse," Zephyr said, his voice tight and sharp as shattered glass. "She bound the Ashford Estate to her blood years ago. The moment the crown was claimed by a Primordial, the estate’s defenses turned on the thief. That mist is the Crimson Hunt—a magical hound bred from hatred and ancient magic. It will track us until it tears the crown from our heads or kills us trying." Ronan extended his claws, the steel of his fingers gleaming in the dying torchlight. "Great. We’re being hunted by ghosts. Fantastic."

*Chapter 42: The map had twelve red marks. Now it had eleven. Aria stood over the table in the war room, the Foundry shard’s dust still clinging under her nails. The Oathbreaker was bound again, but the mark on her palm hadn’t faded. If anything, it glowed faintly when the Moonstone was near. “We move on the next one,” Aria said. Mirel tapped the map. “Western marshes. Cell calling themselves the Drowned Fang. Twelve wolves, last seen three days ago.”

"Have your hounds located Ella? The female who hid me in the alleyways of the Crimson Noble Quarter half a moon ago?" He had dragged his broken, bleeding body back to that specific dark alley three times, hunting for even a microscopic trace of her scent. But the heavy rain and the stench of rogue ghouls had completely wiped the cobblestones clean. There was absolutely no tracking her. "We are scouring every sector, Your Highness, but the trails are cold. If the shadow search fails, I will order a house-to-house blood sweep of the entire district." In that ancient, decaying boundary zone where the low-ranking wolves and rogue vampires clash, many of the stone hovels are completely abandoned.

"Our Luna is out there bleeding in the wilderness, and you are standing here playing coy with her tracking scent?" I growl, dropping my heavy hockey-bag onto the polished slate floor of the Blackthorne Hounds HQ. My alpha blood is boiling under my skin, my wolf itching to claw the truth straight out of Elowen Frost's throat.

It was so quiet, you could hear a pin drop. I navigated my way to the central pillar and stood on a patch of floor where the sunlight fell, looking around, waiting. My heart decided it was a good moment to start pounding. “Where is it, Edward?” I whispered. “Left corner.” I’d forgotten to lower my phone’s volume, and the loud response gave me a nice start. A sound like a muffled shuffling came from that corner, between the boiler and the left wall, the only spot daylight didn’t reach.

Frustration mounted as I moved deeper into the forest, my urgency growing with every second. After what felt like an eternity of searching, I found a small clearing where the forest floor was littered with trampled vegetation and broken branches. The remnants of a fierce battle were evident—claw marks gouged into tree trunks, patches of fur caught on the bark, and the unmistakable scent of blood lingering in the air. I recognized this as the place where Baird had fought the rogues. The ground was still damp with blood, and I shuddered at the thought of what he had endured.

I never did scream— or shift, and he had kissed me after. I turn and start to run. I don't know why I'm running but every blood cell in my body demands that I get as far away from him as possible. I know I don't get far enough when I slam into someone but before I can jerk away, the person is grabbing my waist, keeping me stable while his scent breaks me out of the muddled state my brain was trying to drown itself in. Cedarwood and spices. I slowly look up, realizing that Damien Bloodhound is staring down at me— and he looks very angry.