Bloodstained Dagger Novels & Stories

However, after that everything happened so fast. Another man beside the sofa slashed the sharp object he was carrying into Mrs. Eva's right hand. Quan gasped and so did the injured person. The black bloody wound looked deep and painful, but Mrs. Eva tried to endure it. The white skin of the woman grew pale. “If you say that again, you will die,” the man with the deep voice sneered. “Besides, I know you're lying. One of my Argas made the mistake of saying that a Daga would be tasked with taking Zanxer to the hideout. We killed that Daga, not knowing that it was you who was actually assigned. Is that right, Eva the Right Hand of Suuvoc?”

The dream shattered as the door was kicked open. I heard the frantic clatter of boots and the sharp, clinical voice of Hestia cutting through the fog. "The blood won't stem! It’s washing away the poultices... there’s something on the steel!" My gaze drifted to the floor, landing on the silver hilt of the dagger lying in a darkening pool. The wolf-head pommel seemed to mock me. Jaxon. My own blood, or what was left of it. A hollow, aching laugh caught in my throat, though it came out as nothing more than a wet wheeze.

But my stare was cold when he looked away. After a few sips, he said, “I’m going to freshen up. I want this to be perfect. You can join me if you like.” I smiled. “No, you go ahead. I’ll wait.” He winked and disappeared into the bathroom. I placed the glass back down and stood up slowly. I reached into my bag and pulled out my dagger. I ran my thumb along the blade—it was ready. I was ready. When he came out, wrapped in only a towel, he froze for a second when he saw me standing there, dagger in hand.

Taking a deep breath, I smelt the shift in the air. Sighing with a small smirk, I glanced at all the cursed ones before my gaze settled back onto Mother. "I'm sorry to bring you all the bad news, but I'm afraid I can't let you have my blood." Reaching behind my shirt, I pulled out a small silver dagger with vine engravings on the handle. Holding the blade by my side, I stared at my mother. A few of the cursed ones growled in my direction as they noticed the knife at my side.

Viktor's voice pulled me back. He handed me a small, silver dagger. "Dorian?" Liliana whispered my name, her eyes full of expectation. I took the dagger. Its blade glinted with an eerie red light under the Blood Moon. The moment I was about to slice my fingertip, a tearing agony erupted from the depths of my soul. "Ah—" A low groan escaped me. The silver dagger clattered to the floor. The pain was indescribable. Like someone was hacking at my soul with a dull blade.

Blood slid down her dangling fingers and struck the stone in heavy, rhythmic drops, splattering into a thick, crimson pool on the stone. The gauze masking her face was so thoroughly saturated it had turned from stark white to deep scarlet, then hardened into a near-black, clotted brown. My silver dagger was still lodged in a crack between the flagstones. The name carved into the hilt was completely illegible under the slick of her blood. She didn't lift her head to look at him. She couldn't.

His mouth doesn't move, but I can hear his voice, loud and clear. “Your last supper!” I spit, my eyes darting around expectantly but no one comes. He releases a low growl before lunging for me, claws swiping at the air, aimed at my chest. I turn on my heels and race down the alley, hissing in pain as his claws meet the skin on my back. “Just a few drops of your blood, and my senses feel sharpened,” He lets out a low growl, and I hear him lunge for me again.

"Did you come all the way up these stairs just to watch me walk to the chopping block?" Julian let out a short, dark laugh that sent a chill down my neck. "I came to give you your weapon," he said. He flipped the brass latch of the velvet box. The lid popped open with a quiet snap, revealing a dark silver dagger resting on a bed of red silk. The blade was strange—it wasn't forged from common iron or steel. It was carved from a single piece of ancient, glowing bone, etched with tiny runes that pulsed with a faint, dangerous violet light.

“Today you prove if you belong to Bloodveil… or if you’ll be left for the crows.” The words rolled over me like cold water. Belong. I hated that word, but I bit it back, letting my silence speak instead. He studied me for a moment longer, then lifted his hand. A warrior stepped forward, dropping something heavy at my feet. A dagger. Short, silver-edged, worn with use. I crouched slowly, picking it up, the weight familiar and foreign all at once. The last time I’d held a blade this sharp, my pack still lived.

She didn't even have time to turn her head. With the dagger plunged into her chest, her body staggered backward. Her breath was cut off. As warm blood trickled from her mouth and the corners of her lips, her eyes locked onto the eyes before her. "Caleb, you cursed blood..." Agness growled, her voice choked with blood. Caleb only smiled. A cold, demonic smile full of triumph. Agness's gaze slowly shifted to the dagger. She recognized it. This dagger was the soul dagger of the Sacred Rose lineage.