Novelas y relatos de Fear The Old Blood

"This isn't my fault, alright? I just didn't want you to stress out. I mean, if you knew about this earlier, you'd be freaking out too, right?" "Seeing it with my own eyes doesn't just freak me out. It terrifies me. What's going on? I've only been gone a few years, and now I'm wanted across the entire country?" Sitting in the car, I listened as Amber slowly explained what had happened during my absence. Even after she finished, I could not snap out of it for a long time. Although I had already guessed who was behind it, I still felt a chill crawl over me. His methods were terrifying.

“You lived on fear. You made others smaller.” I made them useful, he replied. Useful men last. Useful men survive. You will survive if you stop worrying about softness. A shadow braided across my forearm and tightened; the blade twisted in my grip. I cursed, yanked free, and the hilt slipped, cutting my thumb. Blood welled hot and I tasted it. The sting roared awake, and with it the old hunger—my own and his stitched together. “You think blood makes you a god,” I said, voice raw. “You think drinking other people’s lives proves you right.”

“Kieran. You’re supposed to be dead.” “I get that a lot.” She stared at him. “Where have you been?” “Hiding from the Council. Watching from the shadows. Listening.” He stepped closer, his expression sobering. “And I heard something you need to know.” Serena’s pulse spiked. “They’ve brought back the Old Blood. Not just magic—something worse. Something even the Council fears.” “You’re talking about the Beast,” she whispered. He nodded. “It was buried because even the royals couldn’t control it. But the Council thinks it can be used as a weapon to break you.”

Alejandro The mist thickens around me, swirling in shapes both familiar and impossible. Faces. Shadows. Echoes of the past. I grip my arms, trying to anchor myself in the reality of the falls, but the illusions are relentless. The ancient warrior watches silently, a figure as immovable as the mountains themselves. His eyes are piercing, yet patient. “Fear is a predator,” he says. “It thrives in denial. It feeds on hesitation. Face it, Alejandro Bloodfang, or it will devour you whole.”

Mothers clinging to their children more tightly. Fathers glancing suspiciously around. I said nothing. I needed to hear them. I needed to let them pour out their fears first before I spoke. "The blood is necessary!" another elder shouted, slamming his hand on the table. "If we don't provide the blood, the curse will be upon us all! Our crops will die! Our children will get sick! We will die!" A woman fell to tears. Others turned away, denying their weakness. But fear was present. It was like vines creeping around us, choking the air out of the room.

The House of Vagamor; South of the Realm Olive's POV His grip around my wrist tightened like shackles in the hands of a prisoner. The scent of his fear drifted into my nose, which left me pondering on what he could be afraid of. Father was not the reason for his fear; he'd devoted his youth to killing him. There was something else he was afraid of. Perhaps it could be the Omicrons. It's a new moon, and the Omicrons would be on the prowl to hunt the souls of any supernatural in sight.

I remember the sickening sound of impact, the harsh shuffle of feet on the grass, and the metallic tang of fear that filled my lungs. I froze, hidden in the shadows, torn between the instinct to run and the desperate urge to intervene. My heart pounded as I watched the violence unfold, powerless to stop it. And yet, even in my fear, I felt a spark of something else - a rising fury, the unyielding pulse of Alpha blood that refused to bend completely under the weight of cruelty.

The dark veins on her neck moved slightly with her pulse. -- Lucian had left three boxes of books stacked against the far wall of the main room and I opened the first one and started reading and did not stop for hours. Most of it was terrifying in the specific way that information is terrifying when it confirms the worst thing you were already afraid of. Soul possession through blood magic. The host soul weakens incrementally with each surfacing of the invading consciousness. Over time the host's grip on their own body becomes unreliable, then intermittent, then absent. The invader does not kill the host. They simply crowd them out, slowly, until there is nothing of the original person left

" he added. Those nosy neighbors who'd been looking to avoid trouble poked their heads out and started ranting. "That old lady wanted her daughter-in-law dead just a while ago, and now she wants her to care for her in old age?" "If it were me, I'd pick up the knife and finish that old woman off. Something's seriously wrong with her." "She'll regret this. She had a rich daughter-in-law and everything set for a peaceful life, and she actually backed a murderer!"