Bursting Forth Of Blood Novels & Stories

I've long give up controlling on my moans. I can feel something building up in me, and it's about to burst open. “I'm coming” I shout He enter me one last time before pumping his warm seed into me. Sending me to the seventh cloud and never returning. Yes I never return cause everything went red. The moon above us suddenly turns blood red. Like someone painted it with crimson. The river water starts to boil. Steam rises from the surface. The sound is deafening. And inside me, something wakes up. *"NO!"* A voice roars in my head. Not my voice. Something else. Something powerful.

Valenfort was reborn, yet in its heart the song of blood had not ended. Above, the moon bled faint red once more. And on the wind, a whisper drifted from somewhere beyond: “As long as blood still flows, love has not yet ended.”

I exhale loudly and make to snap the book shut but the sharp end prick my finger. With a hiss under my breath, I press my finger tightly as tiny drops of blood trickles down. The blood drops on the page and like a mystery, words begin to form, unraveling themselves. I watch with shock, my heart pounding against my ribcage at the swirling letters that aren't there before. As soon as it starts, the strokes end. I glance warily at my finger which has healed instantly and with my pulse spiking, I read the words; ‘Rare is the blood born beneath the crimson gaze of the moon,

" Sanguis aeternus. Vita vetita. Resurge. " The ancient Latin rolled off her tongue, heavy and forbidden. Eternal blood. Forbidden life. Rise. She raised the cross. With a savage, jerky motion, she drove the sharp edge into the side of her neck. "NO!" Lucas screamed, lunging for her. Blood sprayed—hot, crimson, and copious. But it didn't hit the ground. It hovered in the air, sizzling, defying gravity. It turned black as it touched the oxygen, swirling around her like a living cloak.

And the color began to spread. It started at the blood—a thin line that widened, darkened, became a thread, then a rope, then a river of deep, rich crimson that flowed through the white like a crack in a glacier. It didn’t run downward or upward, but outward, in all directions, carving channels in the nothingness, filling the emptiness with veins of color that pulsed and throbbed with a rhythm that matched her heartbeat. *Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.*

Blood oozed from the corners of his mouth. That was just the beginning. Bam! Boom!

Quinn Black blood oozed out of the kings’ necks and flowed over their sons’ hands, down their chests, and into the earth. The ground bubbled and boiled like a tar pit and stinking steam rose up in the air. The kings were so corrupted, that nature itself tried to reject their blood.

She raised her right hand and slammed her palm onto the Sacred Stone. *Boom—!* A polar cold surged through her palm, flooding her veins, racing past her wrist and forearm. It stalled for a single heartbeat in the crook of her elbow, then backfired with catastrophic force, erupting into a blazing, world-ending heat. The divine blood buried in her marrow for a thousand years was waking up.

A violent tremor ripped through the void, turning the stagnant gray expanse into a roaring tempest of black dust and cracking glass. Sarah shrieked as her form flickered uncontrollably, the stolen energy venting out of her in blinding arcs of dark lightning. ​She did not die. Instead, the liberated blood of the ancient contract pooled on the buckling floor, boiling into a thick, crimson mist that spiraled upward.