Destiny 2 Buried Bloodline Novels & Stories

"Silas found something. In the sub-basement of the ruins. He says it’s the reason Solas was so obsessed with your bloodline." ​I paused, the silver light in my palms flickering. The "obsidian" truth. I handed the needle to a young medical apprentice and stood, my back cracking with the effort. ​"Watch the vitals," I commanded. "If the fever spikes, use the Sun-Salt." ​The Vault of the First Blood ​Liam met me at the edge of the palace ruins. The Sun-Palace was now a jagged crater of scorched stone and melted gold. He looked like he had been mining for days—his hair matted with gray dust, his knuckles raw.

she said slowly, “silver, gold, red, black… those are not pack wolves. Those are ancient aspects. Guardians of bloodlines long buried.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “And if they found you… then whatever you are… was never truly lost.”

I felt my heart pound as I unfolded it. The prophecy. Even though I wasn't sure I believed them, I read the sentences out loud. The bloodline will guide the pack through its most difficult time when the last descendant of the goddess rises. The curse can only be lifted by the goddess' child, but it will cost a lot. I paused. My throat tightened with each breath. It was about me, about my kid. As the significance dawned on me, my heart raced. I said quietly to myself, "The secret to lifting this curse is this child, the one developing inside of me."

It washed over to two women, taking pain where needed. Blood Dimitri had never seen so much blood in his life. The two were losing blood too fast; they couldn’t get it back into themselves fast enough. He couldn’t lose her now, not when he had just found her again. He cut his own wrist and forced her to drink; he noticed that his son was doing the same. The women drank what he gave them, but Rayne continued to fade fast. Hours passed before the baby came into the world. The power went out hours before. The babies screamed into the night; it was a welcome sound. Majesta started to cry when someone handed her the baby boy. Rayne just closed her eyes, passing into darkness that no one was sure

She fed her roaming gaze on the bold markings on the cave, which depicted paintings of many fire-breathing dragons. The ground was wet and slippery beneath their feet as water leaked from the roof, the dripping sound echoing within the dragon's den. "This is Arkenholt’s crypt, it is where we bury members of the royal family," Kaelric said to her, showing light to the concrete graves. "This is where I will be buried." Elira glanced at him and held onto his hand tighter. "The thought of your death doesn't serve me right.” Kaelric said nothing but led her further into the crypt, carefully bending their heads below the low entrance and into the cavern.

Five people around a table being professionally thorough about a catastrophe that is, at its origin, a catastrophe of professional thoroughness. The Vein is explained to the room by Emre, which is how Sebastien has mentally named the man in the corner chair, because that's the name he signed the registration form with when the Folklore network confirmed he'd agreed to come. He explains it with the brisk clarity of someone who has explained it before, who knows which details are important and which are rabbit holes. The five bloodlines. The resonance architecture. The conduit function. The degradation timeline. He is selective here too, Sebastien can feel it, the specific quality of someone m

Then “It was searching for its mate.” The implication hits brutally fast. Vaelith feels it at the exact same moment Draven does. The old bloodlines. The inherited resonance. The unstable instincts tied to severance. Everything connects backward through generations. And somewhere in those buried bloodlines Something ancient has been waiting for the bond to awaken again. The lead hunter steps forward quickly now. “We leave immediately.” Draven doesn’t move. His focus remains fixed on the creature. “You knew this would happen.” “Yes.” “You let us walk into it anyway.”

Nathan quickly interjected with tangible vexation at the sound of my father's choice of words, earning himself a scowl from him. "You shut up," He swiftly bit back at him with a pointed look, making him bristle as he peered between the two of us, but thankfully didn't continue arguing. Blowing out a tired sigh, my father lowered himself into a crouching position so that he could be at the same eye-level with me, resting his elbows over his knees as he started to explain, "Carina, we're...You, and me and your sister, we're not humans either. We share an ancient bloodline, the shaman bloodline. Our veins are filled with magic,"

The figure raises a hand, and every rogue stops. Then he speaks, his voice like splintered stone. “Give me the bloodline’s Luna.” My father steps in front of me. “Over my dead body.” “That can be arranged,” the figure says. Calm. Cold. “What do you want?” I shout. “You. The child of prophecy. The last seal.” I flinch. “I’m not anyone’s seal.” “You wear your mother’s blood,” he says. “But not her burden.” “What do you know about my mother?” I demand.

It had become a lodestone, a memory key, forged from his bloodline and sanctified by choice. She yanked it free. The instant it touched her palm, light flared around her. Her scream was short, not from pain, but from the sheer volume of memory it pulled through her body. Her birth, her first bloodbond. The betrayal. The years in exile. Dain’s face. Thalen’s silence. The garden in spring, before everything collapsed. And more. The Vein didn’t just hold her memories. It wanted them. Because it wanted to remember not just what had been done to them but what they had survived.