Novel & Cerita Forged In Blood Book

I didn't wait for the pen. I grabbed the silver dagger that Malphas had dropped. I didn't stab him. I stabbed **Myself**. I drove the silver blade into the mark on my neck—the bond that Rowan had given me. --- ### The Blood of the Story The world stopped. The silver blade didn't draw red blood. It didn't draw violet ink. It drew **Gold**. The "Origin" power, trapped and compressed for three days, finally found a way out. But it wasn't controlled. It wasn't a story.

Then it pulled the rest of itself into the light. It had once been human — the remnants were there in the face, in the way the mouth moved without sound — but now its body was stretched thin and bound in strips of blackened leather stitched directly into its flesh. A scent of burning silver rolled off it, clashing with the metallic tang of blood. “Bloodforged,” Carter’s voice came from somewhere behind him, tight with something that might have been fear. “Vorrow’s hounds.” The thing moved fast. Too fast.

Mom rushed over with red‑rimmed eyes and slapped me across the face. “It must have been you who drove Sheila away.” Her voice trembled with anger. “A girl raised by human traffickers is exactly what I expected. We should never have let you come back.” I stared at her. Then, through the blood blurring my vision, I looked toward Derrick. At that moment, the system’s countdown echoed in my mind. The stabbing pain in my chest intensified without warning. It hurt so much that every word required all the strength I had left. “If this was how things were going to be…”

That night we each gave blood and sweat, and I knew the bond was only growing stronger. We fought for hours tirelessly, but in the end, there was a loud commanding roar, a sign of victory. I looked down at my claws that were now covered in blood, the same dripped down my chin. Bodies laid around us, mostly rogues, but some belonged to the pack, and we made quick haste to bury the dead before sunrise on my account.

he says quietly. Before I can react, agony explodes through every nerve ending in my body. The Blood Oath—that cursed binding he forged when I was broken and desperate—activates with vicious intensity. It feels like molten metal is being poured through my veins, like every bone is being shattered and reformed simultaneously.

“It won’t. You can’t run from him, Ava. You belong to him.” My stomach twisted. I stepped forward until I was looming over him. “You’re wrong.” The rogue grinned, despite the terror in his eyes. “Then prove it.” I tightened my grip on the dagger in my hand. I could feel the forge’s magic pulsing through it, whispering in a language older than time itself. It wanted blood. It needed blood. I raised the blade. The rogue’s grin widened. “See you soon, little goddess.” And then— I plunged the dagger into his heart. The forge roared.

Frustration started low and quiet, then sharpened. “Why would she leave me a book I can’t open?” I muttered. I pressed harder at the lock. Tried the sides again. Turned the book sideways. Checked the underside, the seam, the hinge. Still nothing. Seraphina stirred. It feels like bloodline magic. I stopped. “What does that mean?” Protected by blood, she said. Made for one line. Not for strangers. I stared at the lock. The words made immediate, terrible sense. My mother had not merely hidden the book. She had bound it to blood. To lineage. To someone who belonged to her in a way no outsider ever could. It was meant for me.

She may not recognise me as her father anymore, but she is all the blood I have left, the only part of me that will live on once I am gone from this earth. Please, forgive me the lie. I wish you all the happiness in the world, my boy. Thank you for being by my side. I stare at the sheet of paper in my hands, the black lines blurring in front of my eyes as rage like nothing I’ve felt before overwhelms me. Fifteen years. I have wasted fifteen damn years of my life slaving myself in this hellhole, forgetting to truly live, forgetting what freedom means, with the only goal that everything will be mine once the times comes. Fifteen years of hopes and empty promises, and it all came down to this.

Not perfect and not whole but okay. The Volkov legacy would continue. Broken, rebuilt, and somehow stronger for having survived the worst. THE END. THANK YOU DEAR READER. BIG LOVE TO ALL IRINA'S, DIMITRI'S AND ALEXEI'S LOVERS. BIG LOVE TO ALL THE CASTS LOVERS. BIG LOVE TO THE BETRAYAL AND BLOOD READERS, YOUR SUPPORT MEAN ALOT💙💙💙💙💙

The title reads, "The Lost Bloodlines: A Forgotten Legacy." Excitement surged through both girls as they opened the book. Its pages were filled with handwritten notes and illustrations, detailing a secret society that had existed for centuries, guarding the knowledge of a special lineage—a bloodline with extraordinary abilities. As they read further, they discovered that their suspicions were correct. Tiffany and Hailey were indeed descendants of this ancient bloodline, born with unique powers waiting to be awakened. The clash they witnessed the night before was just the beginning, a sign that their journey was meant to unfold.