Hellbound Heart Pdf Novels & Stories

On the dark oak counter rested a velvet-lined wooden case containing a manuscript Helena had not seen the day before. “There are truths that only reveal themselves when blood recognizes its match,” murmured Mrs. Gable, her bony fingers sliding over the book’s cover. “You touched the Wolf, didn’t you? And from the glow in your eyes, he touched you as well.” Helena did not confirm it, but the tremor in her hands as she opened the manuscript was answer enough. The document was a memorial record from one of Dante’s ancestors, dated before the great sawmill fire. As she read, the structure of Blackwater’s supernatural universe began to expand before her eyes in layers of tragedy and destiny.

he asked, his deep voice steady yet tinged with anticipation. Amelia nodded vigorously, her chestnut hair cascading around her shoulders. "The Heart of Tenebris. It's not just mythology; it's our key to salvation." Her hands shook with adrenaline as she pointed to the heart-shaped symbol etched at the mural's center. "This sacred artifact—it's real, Gabriel, and it's here on this forsaken island." A slow smile spread across Gabriel's face, his green eyes reflecting a spark of hope for the first time in what felt like an eternity. "Then let us waste no more time," he said, standing tall, his muscular frame ready to spring into action.

They can’t hurt what they can’t see. I did not drop it. I raised it. And I looked—not at the chains, not at the monster’s arms—but at its chest. At the place where all those books fused into a roughly rib‑like cage. At the single, massive volume wedged dead center: a heavy, iron‑clasped tome that hadn’t moved once, even when the rest of its body shifted. Its “heart.” “That,” I gasped, pointing with the pen. “Its heart is a locked book—pry it open!”

The shadows still coiled faintly under his skin, moving like smoke trapped beneath glass. “How far?” I whispered. Silas didn’t look back. “Not far enough.” The air shifted a little colder now, carrying a faint metallic tang that made my throat ache. Ahead, the tunnel widened into a vast chamber. The ceiling was lost in darkness, and the floor glowed faintly with concentric circles of silver light. In the center, a massive crystal heart pulsed, suspended in midair and translucent, ancient, alive. The Heart of the Veil. I’d heard legends and whispers of a power older than the gods, the source of the boundary between worlds. Seeing it now sent a chill through me. The rhythm of its pulse matched

I correct. The memory of it flashes through my mind again. That enormous body coiled through the cavern like a living mountain. The way the water moved when it breathed. And those teeth. “Trust me,” I mutter. “You don’t want to meet it awake.” Aven shudders slightly and looks back to the fire. Sybil finally lifts the Petrified Heart carefully, turning it in the light. The red veins inside it shimmer faintly as it moves. “The magic in this thing is ancient,” she murmurs.

Bain said, voice like steel. After a long pause, the Order slowly lowered their weapons. “You have one chance,” the priestess whispered. “Take it. And go.” ⸻ IV. The Chamber of Veins The Blood Relic chamber was a monstrous sight — red crystal veins ran like living arteries across black stone walls. At its center hovered the relic itself: a pulsating orb of deep crimson, almost breathing. “The Heart of Blood,” Seraphina whispered in reverence. As Bain approached it, the chamber pulsed. A voice echoed in his mind — ancient, seductive.

She poured every ounce of her purification light into the obsidian. ​A crack formed. Then another. ​With a sound like a shattering glacier, the obsidian bars burst outward. Elara dove into the chest cavity. ​Inside, the world was a nightmare of shifting shadows. Thick, pulsing veins of corruption hung from the ceiling like weeping willow branches. In the center of the chamber floated the Heart. It was a jagged, pulsing diamond the size of a carriage. It held a swirling, black smoke. That smoke had a face.

The heartbeat was wrong. Too loud, too steady — a drumbeat meant for something larger than a man. Killian stepped back as the shadows in the breach warped, as if the stone itself wanted to recoil from what was coming. The first thing through was a hand. It was pale, almost translucent, but stretched too long, the fingers jointed in places they shouldn’t be. Veins glowed faint red beneath the skin, pulsing with every thud of that monstrous heart. Then it pulled the rest of itself into the light.

" … Edward frowned deeply. When he spoke, it sounded like he was grinding his teeth. "Jasmine, your sister is about to kill herself, and you're still thinking about a handkerchief? "Is romance really that important to you? Important enough to make you this cruel?" The moon hung high in the sky. It was already late at night. Edward turned and stormed off, his sleeve snapping in the wind. I stood alone in the middle of the street, the cold wind making my head spin. However, the colder my heart felt, the tighter I held onto the engagement document.

Shards of glass scattered in every direction, glittering like diamonds in the dim light. Within the shattered remains, a beating heart lay exposed, its crimson flesh pulsing with an otherworldly glow. Abigail's eyes widened in horror, her face contorting into a mask of pure anguish as she witnessed the heart's final moments. The pulsing slowed, the rhythmic beating growing fainter with each passing second. The heart shriveled, its vibrant hue fading to a sickly grey, until finally, it stilled, the last vestiges of life extinguished.