Every Cloak Rolled In Blood Novels & Stories

Letting my hand go, Leo cautiously moved closer to it, and I followed. My heart pounded in my ears at the horrific sight. The cloaked figure was lying in a pool of blood, his hood had slipped back, revealing a gory, distorted face. A wave of nausea washed over me as more blood seeped from under the corpse, melting the snow flurries as they hit the ground.

A whisper hissed in Alice’s mind: The war starts here, weapon. A note fluttered from her pocket, unnoticed until now: Fight or fall, weapon. The courtyard seals it. The crescent moon symbol glared, and the streetlamps flickered, the rally’s distant noise fading to a drone. Alice’s scar glowed brighter, heat surging, and she froze, the cult’s plan tightening like a noose. She bolted across the courtyard, Kane’s voice calling, Liam’s plea echoing, Mira’s text burning, Rhea’s taunt biting, Elara’s touch fading. The cult’s web was closing, and she was its center.

Blood is spilled on the once pure ground, coloring it scarlet. I know this dream. I had seen this so many times. The only difference is that it is real and not a dream anymore and I can see this brutality with my own bare eyes. And can smell the hard scent of blood in the air which makes me gagged. Sea of people wearing the black and blue cloaks are mercilessly snatching the soul out of their opponents not carrying whose life it is. Their pupils are black as their magic is. Another blood-curdling scream boomed out, this time it's from the sky. Where creatures with big white wings are fighting against black wings. They have their bodies wrapped in metal armors and their horrific swords in the

Demyan’s POV The fabric of my cloak brushed against the polished stone floor like the whisper of a storm. Deep crimson, it fell behind me in regal waves, the color of blood and fire, and today, of defiance. I pulled the hood up over my head, letting the shadow fall over my face, then fastened the black mask. It covered my expression but not the heat that simmered beneath my skin. I was not here as a son today, I was here as the Alpha-to-be, and I wanted answers.

Only blood. Elara stood atop the southern ridge, overlooking the smoking valley below. Her command cloak snapped in the wind, and her armor shimmered with runic flame beneath its black-and-silver enamel. The ground beneath her vibrated faintly with the marching of her united forces—outcasts, warriors, and noble blood alike. Behind her: Lucien and his elite dusk riders, cloaked in enchanted shadows.General Thorne and his legion of banished wolves, armor stitched with red thread. Saphira, already dispatching scouts into the ruins for flanking manoeuvres.

“You won't last a minute on the battlefield.” He got up wiping the blood from his bursted lips. “I'm sorry, my Lord.” I withdrew my claws. “Fight me with all your strength, give it all you have, imagine I'm the Lycan that killed your brothers, your sisters.” He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, nodding his head like I just gave him an encouraging speech when I actually gave him a death speech. He had no chance against me. Tarek, the sentinel lunged forward, just as I was about to strike I saw something— someone in a long black cloak, but before I could blink he was no longer there, even though I could have sworn I saw someone.

His breaths came sharp and uneven, his whole frame trembling like he was on the verge of shattering. “Shit, shit, shit…” I scrambled, wiping blood off my chin with the back of my hand before fumbling through my bag. My fingers closed around the invisibility cloak. I yanked it out, shaking with urgency, and draped it over him. The shimmer spread, swallowing him from sight. “Just stay still. Please. I’ll handle this.” My voice broke halfway, but I forced it steady. He needed to hear steady.

He arrived like a storm. The air split apart as Lord Aldric descended onto the battlefield, his black cloak rippling through the charged atmosphere, a trail of shadow curling behind him like smoke from a funeral pyre. The moment his feet touched the scorched earth, the sky dimmed as if the sun itself recoiled from his presence. Even the bravest warriors, those who had stood firm against impossible odds, faltered and stepped back. Their weapons trembled in suddenly uncertain hands.

His voice itself seemed to carry sword intent! Next, an unremarkable sword aura emerged from the Heaven and Earth Sword, stabbing directly at the sloppy swordsman. The sloppy swordsman made no resistance as his head fell to the ground without a drop of blood. Then, his body slowly collapsed. Only then did everyone realize the blood on Clive was black. In other words, all that blood belonged to the sloppy swordsman. Remnants of tentacles were scattered around. They were the pieces and segments that Clive had severed. Looking at this hellish scene, Rania was stunned. Ignoring the blood and filth, she quickly ran up and embraced Clive.

I spun around when Nora called me gently. “What!” “Th… the cloak!” “What about the cloak!” For Goddess’s sake. Why this melodrama in an already tense situation? Spit it out, woman. Nora swallowed hard, “Alex … It's … It's drenched… in blood. Rayna’s blood…”