Court Of Blood And Bindings Novels & Stories

Perhaps it's effect is only mild. She poured a little of the blood in an empty glass she found on the table, then she added just a little ash and stirred. She frowned when nothing happened. Was the book wrong? If the book was wrong, the book wouldn't be restricted. She then added a little more ash, and the the blood began to foam. Interesting. She watched it closely, taking note of every single change. By the time the blood stopped foaming, it had turned black. She smiled. Now she wondered if this would work on the royal vampires. If only she could get their blood.

It felt like my bones were boiling to the core. All I could make out was him drawing something around the circle, then he slit his wrist and poured his blood in a glass goblet. After that he began to chant something, shortly after which the drawing within the circle and outside began to shine. A cooler feeling began to seep and I felt a little bit better. Quincey then walked into the circle, helped me sit up a little and gave me the glass goblet which was filled to the brim with his blood. “Drink this.” I weakly grabbed the glass and began to drink it. After I was done, he took the glass from me and laid me back down.

Tears rolled down my cheeks, I was not only scared for myself that I had handed my heart over to this man, I was also scared for his people, I needed to know what inspired such hatred to murder his people. “You want to know the truth? I will tell you.” He strolled from the throne towards me, “The world I told that was built by me and my two friends, these people are the descendants. We made a blood covenant that whichever one of us dies first, our power should be given to the next who was alive to maintain the balance of the park for greater good. Their fathers saw us as a threat and opted to end our lives. For each one they killed, their powers were absorbed into my blood, the same blood I

Wiped my face. “You’re being very brave,” he murmured. “But brave and foolish live next door to each other.” When he stood, I saw blood on his gloves—my blood. Splattered on the floor, down my arm, sticky and red. My fingers looked mutilated. Bare. Wrong. I choked on something, the bile in my throat almost forcing its way up. “Let’s try the right hand.” “No.” My voice was barely there. He didn’t stop. After the fifth nail, I blacked out.

“A draught of my blood, once your work is done. A tithe of land along the Eastern borders, where the mortals still whisper of night-things. And a place in my dominion — not as exiles, but as shadows under my protection.” Their eyes flared. To be restored, to be shielded by a Lord — that was no small promise. But the eldest still shook his head. “Even so. To tamper with kin-bonds… the Court’s punishment is fire. Not even your blood can shield us from that.” I moved before he finished. One moment I was across the coals, the next I had him pinned against the bone wall, my hand tight around his throat. His eyes bulged as I leaned close, letting him see the hatred that burned raw in mine.

“You’ll succeed.” He didn’t answer. His jaw clenched, and we were called forward by a silver-robed council elder. The hall opened into a circular chamber, vast and empty, except for a raised platform at the center. Ancient runes glowed faintly across the floor, forming a complex pattern that pulsed with subtle light. “This is the Chamber of Binding,” the elder intoned. Her voice was calm, but it carried authority that made me want to bow. “Only those of true blood and intent may pass the trial. Step forward, Prince Fenrir.”

The air thickened, humming with raw, ancient power. And then a voice, not Alejandro’s, rolled across the clearing, layered with fire and echo, so vast that even the air seemed to bow beneath it. “You call them monsters,” the voice thundered, both flame and shadow. “But they are not born, they are bound.” Every member of the Haven froze. The power in that voice was nothing like their Alpha’s usual control. It was older, heavier, terrifying and divine all at once. “The souls of the slain, witches, vampires, wolves, and humans, trapped in the twilight between life and death. The forbidden art that commands them is Sanguis Vinculum, the Blood Binding.”

Her blood mingled with his, swallowed by the oil. Caelus laughed when the basin was tilted toward him. He didn’t cut—he bled smoke, tendrils of shadow twisting from his veins into the oil, turning it molten, alive. The basin hissed. The liquid flared, neither flame nor light but something between. The scroll unrolled by itself, words blazing across it. “Speak the binding,” Lord Valerius whispered, voice breaking. Lucien began. His tone was deliberate, ritualistic: “By blood and shadow, by chain and choice, I command thee—be held.”

The sharp scent of disinfectant burned my nose, and the thin blanket draped over me does nothing to steady the trembling in my hands. I heard him before I saw him. Heavy steps. A controlled storm. Dante pushed through the curtain with a force that made it sway. His suit jacket was gone, and his shirt was smeared with dust and dried blood along the collarbone. A deeper cut sliced across his cheek, still fresh, still angry-looking.

His confidence didn’t falter, not even for a second. Elowen forced herself to stay still as he approached. The closer he got, the more she remembered. His voice. His face. The way he used to look at her before everything changed. It made her chest ache in a way she didn’t want to acknowledge. “Let us begin,” Sylas said. Two attendants stepped forward, placing a shallow silver bowl between them. The liquid inside shimmered faintly under the light—dark, almost black. “A blood binding,” Mother Elvya explained, her voice carrying through the room. “An ancient ritual. The bond is sealed through blood, witnessed by the moon.”