Novel & Cerita Every Cloak Rolled In Blood

When it was done, they held her between them. Four souls twined together against the gathering storm. Veyra rose before the first light of dawn. The white cloak draped around her once more, but now the fabric was no longer pristine. It bore the imprint of a thousand touches, a thousand promises. Her skin burned with their marks. Her soul burned brighter still. She stood at the edge of the assembled armies once again, facing the fields where death waited. Jon approached first, clad in armor darker than night, a sword strapped to his back.

as the world slowed to a crawl as she watched him fall to the ground with blood pooling rapidly around him. He didn't even have the time to react. "No!" she cried, rushing to his side. She knelt beside him, her hands trembling as she tried to stop the blood. "Can you hear me? Carlson!. Please, stay with me." But Carlson's eyes were already closed, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Luna, you have to... be strong," he managed to whisper. Tears streamed down Seraphine's face as she held his hand, wishing there was something she could do to make this better. "I will. I promise." With a final, shuddering breath, Carlson's body went still in her arms. Seraphine felt a scream build in her chest,

It felt nothing like a dream, yet she cried and begged herself to wake up, trying to absorb the pain, blood spilling out of her wounded face. The pain was more than she could bear and her stomach was hurting, which got her cuddling her stomach. She remained on the floor and watched five more vampires fly in through the window, all gazing at her in their human forms, their lava eyes still shimmering. They wore black cloaks. A kind of cloak she wouldn't see their faces in, unless they came up close. The cloak didn't stop the visibility of their lava eyes.

Rossa smiled faintly and nodded. The clothes of the mother and daughter were already soaked with blood on the back. Dark red stains had seeped into the fabric. Yet no one in the room felt any pity. Their gazes were cold. As if the suffering of the two women was nothing unusual. As soon as they passed through the large hall, two servants quietly caught Rossa and Livia, holding them so they would not fall. “Take them to the room,” one of the servants said in a low voice.

But the moment she ran into the blizzard, the mate bond inside me had withered, leaving a hollow, rotting void in my chest that made it difficult to breathe. ​My fingers brushed against something buried in the snowdrift. ​I dug frantically. It was fabric. Dark, heavy wool. ​I pulled it free, my heart stopping in my chest. It was the cloak she had been wearing. It was shredded, soaked through with frozen, dark blood. Huge, feral claw marks tore through the fabric—the undeniable signature of the monstrous, starving Corrupted that roamed the deep woods. ​"No," I whispered, clutching the frozen, bloody wool to my chest. "No, Goddess, please. Punish me. Take my eyes, take my title. Just let her b

Into his trust. “Do we have an understanding, Lia?” he asked, emphasizing the false name. “Yes,” she forced out, the word tasting like surrender. “Start tomorrow. Be here at eight.” He turned his back, a dismissal. As she reached the door, his voice stopped her again. “And Lia? Clean your knuckles. The blood under your fingernails is too careful. Too clean. Real blood stays for days.”

It sounded like it belonged to someone else. I heard heavy boots coming towards me. I tried running but someone grabbed me by the arm. I twisted and pulled away, but another man blocked my path. They came from everywhere. Not the hunters. Different men. Their clothes were darker. Their eyes colder. I started crying again. “Please don’t,” I said. “Please.” A man in a black combat suit stepped forward. His boots made heavy sounds on the ground. He held something in his hand. It was red. Glowing.

Afraid of the person trespassing their territory. This person was covered in a dark blue cloak walking silently in very light steps in the middle of the pathway. Blood runs from his hand going to the green stem and white petals of a small flower, at his hand. Staining it's pure color and dripping as he walks by. Leaving its terrifying mark. Hoody hides his solemnly face, yet the body emits an overflowing killing intent as if this person was a demon vessel himself. Making small creatures back away, afraid and no guts to disturb his way.

It turned out that people like them eventually meet someone worse. I lowered the brim of my cap and turned to leave, not wanting to be recognized. However, fate has a twisted sense of humor. My leather shoe stepped on a dry leaf. Crunch. Brian's head snapped up. Our eyes met. His eyes went wide. Like he had seen a ghost. Or a savior. "Bro?!" That single shout drew everyone's attention. My dad looked up, too, a flicker of light in his eyes. "Chester… Chester!"

Wiping my mouth with my hand, I don’t even bother being disgusted with the blood that was on my mouth. His scent didn’t disappear, it was still as strong as ever. Wind touches my skin and I notice my lack of clothing. Shivering lightly, I pull on a discarded black cloak from some of the men that was currently lying down. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind. Corpses don’t really have a use for such pieces of clothing. Wrapping it tightly around me, I try to ignore the sticky bits that were drenched in blood. Tried to ignore the scent that was flooding my all too sensitive nose. The closer I get, the scent got stronger. Yohan was still lying down, his chest lifting up and down slowly, like he was just