Frenzied Blood Echoes Novels & Stories

What the hell happened last night? He stalked out of his bedroom and walked to her room. He pushed the door open further and stopped short again when he reached her bathroom. She stood in front of the vanity in a robe and he had a flashback of ripping it open. “What the fuck happened to your neck?” Faro had a look of horror on his face as he looked at the purple bruises. His eyes trailed down to her wrists and he visibly flinched back from her as another memory assaulted him. Faro’s heart started beating faster and his breaths turned ragged. More memories surfaced and he ran from her room back to his own and made it to his bathroom just in time. He vomited out his own disgust and it felt lik

As I watched the car tear down the road, my heartbeat matched the speed on the screen. Then there was a loud bang. The driver jumped out to look. The footage shows two adults lying on the ground, and the victim's baby had been tossed a distant away. There was blood everywhere. It was so terrible that I almost couldn't watch. Charles and Freddie wiped at their eyes beside me. Then, unbelievably, Maeve said they weren't dead and backed the car up to run over them again. When the relatives saw that, they went completely berserk. "Charles! Freddie! I don't care who was driving. Kill them both!!

His limbs jerked in rhythms that didn't match seizure patterns I'd seen before. "Jamie!" Sarah screamed, dropping to her knees beside us. "Call emergency," I said to Marcus, already checking Jamie's pulse. It was racing, erratic, his breathing shallow and labored. "This is what happens when he takes major transfers," Marcus said, pulling out his phone. "His body can't process the damage fast enough."

The echoes are still there, waiting, and they’ll be louder than ever when we return. 🖤 Echoes of Ruin resumes January 1st.

The suffocating, half-century-old guilt surged to the surface, distorting into a feral, apocalyptic madness. Not again. By the ancients, NOT AGAIN. An ancient, Norse berserker roar ripped from Riheirk’s throat—a sound so dark, primordial, and terrifying it caused the very ground beneath his boots to shudder. He didn't draw his broadsword. He didn't use his daggers. Riheirk blurred across the ravine at a speed that defied the laws of physics, a streak of pure, unadulterated vengeance cutting through the night. He descended upon the Blood-born like a falling mountain.

One of the nurses went to call the doctor. "Father," I said gently and leaned closer to him. He was trying to open his eyes. I gave him time. "Haimon, Haimon, Haimon," my father was rambling, and I wondered why he would be calling our clan's divine wolf. "He is coming, Haimon is coming, the blood is alive," he said and stopped rambling. It was as if he had gone back to sleep. I was about to walk away when he sat up abruptly and started murmuring in a strange language. He clamped his hand on my arm and turned his face towards me. His grip was tight. And he opened his eyes. They were crimson.

“_No no no nonono_—” Blood. So much blood. _Silver_ blood. Because silver rounds _poison_. Wolves. Gods. _Kids_. “Kieran—” I was there. Rylan screaming in my arms. Real scream. _Terrified_. Nero hit his knees. Ice cracking out from him in a wave. “_Six_—” Tempo and Echo grabbed each other. Time _stuttered_ around them. Like reality was _glitching_. Lyra’s eyes were open.

My blood was living, breathing, White Lycan royalty the biological antithesis of the rot. BOOM. A sonic shockwave of kinetic energy erupted from the connection, instantly shattering the soundproof seal of the engine room. The noise was deafening, a wet, static crack that resonated through the glacial walls, vibrating the black ice beneath my knees. The glowing red runes violently flared, turning a sickly, toxic shade of orange as they desperately fought against the intrusion of living light. But my biology was unyielding. I was

She seethes. My feet are sodden with the blood that pools on the carpet. Silence is no longer the sound that comes from me. Each step closer to him is like the sound of claws against wood. With every step, I become hunched and blackened. Insanity and Death curl my lip into a twisted, grotesque snarl. The veins of my hands are purple and black. Rage inside me finally reflects the rot of me on the surface. I wrap my obsidian fingers around the ceremonial blade.

*Beep-beep-beeping* erratically, the alarms on the high-tech machines start wailing at full volume, flashing a blinding red light against the white walls. "Oh gods, she's crashing!" Talia shouts, throwing herself across the bed to hold my shoulders as my entire body begins to violently convulse, my spine arching off the mattress from the sheer, uncontrollable power of the Lycan blood fusing inside me.