Bloodstained: Ritual Of The Night Platforms Novels & Stories

Then, he looked into the darkness of the room's corner, missing the cold touch that made him feel alive. He couldn't choose. But he had to do something. Carefully, he slid out of bed, trying not to wake Kit. He grabbed his phone and crept into the living room, closing the bedroom door softly. His mind raced back to their daytime research. They had found an occult forum discussing the legend of Morat. An anonymous user had mentioned a "Ritual of Old Blood Banishment," but the details were deliberately concealed, only stating that it required "cursed blood" and "pure intention."

A place soaked in lost blood and forbidden rites. The perfect location for a blood ritual. That’s where she was building her crystal. We struck before dawn. Killian led the northern flank, silent as smoke. I led the eastern charge—spear in hand, fury in my chest. The battle began like lightning—swift, devastating. Flames tore across the ravine. Wolves collided in midair. Fire spells shattered against makeshift shields. The crystal pulsed in the center of the battlefield, towering and grotesque—its core glowing with stolen essence.

“The Blooded Pact. A soul-binding ritual once used by the divine to anchor life to life. It must be performed with someone who carries divine blood. Your blood, Anastasia.” Her breath caught. “What happens if it fails?” Matif’s silence was answer enough. Still, she nodded. “I’ll do it.” .... They prepared the ritual deep in the Temple of the Eclipse, far from prying eyes. Candles carved from sacred bone circled Kael’s unconscious form, each flame tinted silver-blue by the lingering power of the moon. Anastasia stood barefoot before him, robed in the moon-seer’s cloak, her hands trembling as Matif handed her the ceremonial blade small, curved, wickedly sharp.

My fingers sparked with starlight, and the crowd recoiled. A bone-witch emerged, her face hidden behind a mask of fused vertebrae. "There's a way," she rasped. "A ritual from the Bloodscrolls of Vostra. It requires a heart steeped in shadow, a crown of fallen stars, and a sacrifice... *willing*." Rhydian stiffened. The black mark over his heart pulsed, as if recognizing its name. --- **EDEN'S POV**

Fenrak crossed his arms, expression changing from playful to serious. Marek stood behind them all, silent, respectful. Violet finally reached the page marked by a strip of crimson cloth. “There,” she whispered. “The ritual.” Rhea leaned in, heart pounding. Violet placed her finger on the first line. “The Blood of the Marked One.” Rhea went still. Violet looked at her with guilty eyes. “It has to be you, Rhea. Your blood anchors the ritual. You’re the only Crimson remaining and marked.” Rhea nodded slowly. She expected that.

But to actually perform the spell, I needed something far worse: a piece of his skin. I fucking hate black magic. When nightfall finally came, I closed my windows and laid out the dusty leather book: Liber Noctis Sanguinem (The book of night blood). I shivered as my hands touched the ancient pages. After pouring a circle of salt, I laid his parchment inside it and opened the grimoire to the page of the ‘Rite of the Bleeding Moon’ spell. This spell was meant to reveal the true source of a supernatural illness or curse and provide the necessary solutions to the problem.

And the dining hall erupted in laughter. "Oh my god. Callum. What do I do with youuu". Stephen was laughing and Callum facepalmed. He called for trouble himself. ************* They were in their office. Free from today's schedule. Saint had prepared different glasses of blood. Callum sniffed all. They all had a faint whiff of Stephen blood. They all were enjoying their drinks, looking for the reaction. Callum took each glass. One by one. He would sniff and then take a sip.. He would cut down the taste with water. Then another. Finally he picked one. He took one sip and another and another. His eyes shone crimson as he licked his blood strained lips.

“Right there. In the open. Where everyone can see what happens when you cross me.” The phone buzzes again on the desk, another update coming in, and my pulse jumps. I grin. “Move everyone,” I say. “Tonight.” “Rules,” Lena asks. “There are none,” I say. “Only the hunt.” I picture Eli Blackwood boxed in by noise and lights and fragile lives, and my hands curl into fists. “I am not a coward,” I say softly. “And I do not care who dies learning that.”

"On the second cycle, you shall pour the blood upon the soil as you walk, pledging your essence to the King’s vitality." I looked down into the cup. It was filled with thick, dark red blood. I felt a pang of guilt. The hall had beautiful, sparkling marble floors, and I hated the idea of staining them. But as I looked closer, I noticed a thin ring of actual dark soil circling the base of the platform, hidden just behind a line of lilies. It was a clever design.