Mud And Blood 3 Novels & Stories

Alaric The smell of iron hangs thick in the air long after the clashing stops. The battlefield lies quiet except for the groans of the dying and the occasional whimper of a wounded wolf trying to crawl toward the treeline. Rain still falls, lighter now, more of a steady drizzle washing over the mud, mixing with the blood until everything looks the same shade of dark red and brown. My hands are still shaking as I grip my sword, though I already sheathed it once. I keep holding it like I might forget what just happened if I let go.

In Mafia business, there isn't any kindness left to show Just fight, cruelty and blood... . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. .... . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. .... . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. .... . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. .... . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. .... . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. .... . .. . .. . .. . .. .... . .. . .. . .. .... . .. . .. .... . .. . blood.

An outright war. Mud flying everywhere, everywhere hitting, fighting, defending. Screams, chaos rising into the air. No one willing to call it quits. "Don't you dare!" Eliot attacked one of the guys that threw mud at me. Sending to him and entire pile directly on his face. The guy spitting helplessly, spreading out the mud with his hands. "Oh my God, that's disgusting." I said, Eliot agreeing with me. Pulling me away right then. Our bodies heavy with mud, but that turning around only landed us more hits from the others.

Bright red blood blooming outward from between my thighs, spreading across the pristine white of my dress. “No,” I whimpered, pressing my hands against the spot, trying desperately to stop the flow. “No, please, not my baby. Not my baby!” The mud pulled at me more insistently now, no longer just an impediment but a sentient thing. It rose higher, past my waist, up to my chest. And as it did, I saw that it wasn’t just wet soil, but hands—countless muddy hands reaching up from the ground, grasping at me, pulling me down.

I searched everywhere in this house to find something that I can use, from the basement, his room and to the library, and luckily, I found some telescope in his room on the last floor, the third one, this will be perfect for it. Speaking of the third floor, there's nothing really important nor peculiar about it, it's just a simple and normal room except for the smell of blood all over it, both human and animal blood, I should be running now from the smell because it's not good but why am I smelling it like it's a perfume? Oh hell! Did he infect me with his weird personality? I just left the room while erasing the thought in my mind, I need to get going now. Damn it! Why am I more excited for

"He won't just give up." They entered the cave carefully. The roar of the wind and the rustling of the leaves added to the tension. Inside the cave, Liam emerged from the darkness, his eyes still burning red. "You can't stop me!" he shouted hoarsely. Alex and Victoria stood tall, ready to fight again. This time they had to capture Liam, bring him home and find a way to quell his bloodlust. The battle begins again. The trees around them swayed under the intense attacks of the three vampires. This time, however, Alex and Victoria worked better as a team. They protected each other and looked for openings to attack Liam.

The scent of blood lingers thick in the air, mixing with the damp earth beneath my boots. The moon barely cuts through the thick canopy of trees, casting long shadows over the fallen bodies. Their lifeless forms lie sprawled across the ground, the fight drained from them. It was over fast—too fast. Three rogues, dead before they even had a chance to scream. It’s not satisfying. It’s just... work. Ethan nudges one of the corpses with his boot, his expression bored.

Wolfsbane could only mask it for so long… “You LIED TO ME!” Jayden erupted like thunder. His wolf surged forward, claws ripping out of his skin, bones snapping violently mid-scream. Whenever an Alpha was roused like that, only one thing followed — chaos, destruction, a bloodbath… Just then, a thought crossed me. Why could I still see these things when I was dead? --- My eyes peeled open to a seemingly soundless world, bright light piercing into my brain… “Zoe!”

The smell of blood and burnt flesh thickens in the air until I have to cover my nose and mouth with my sleeve. Then I see it... A small clearing just past the training yard. Bodies. Not many, but enough. Warriors and civilians mixed together, torn apart in a way that makes it hard to tell who they even were. A young man no older than me lies face down in the mud, his hand still clutching a weapon he never got to use. Something inside me twists violently. My vision blurs at the edges. The metallic taste of bile burns my throat. I spin on my heel and stumble a few feet away, barely making it behind a half burned tree before everything in my stomach comes rushing up. I grip the rough bark, gasp

I was sprawled on the floor, unable to stand, my whole muscles crunched together, my whole body ached so much that I could feel being rejected by death. I had fallen deep into small pot, I held myself up, supporting my muscles against the sand. I climbed off the pit, my eyes struggle to make out a relevant vision. Blood gushed from my legs, I tore off my shirt the bandaged my leg. I picked up a stick which I used as a staff to support myself as I moved gently. I fell, stood up and continued on my journey to survival though I wished for death to come take me away, release from this unending series of suffering. I placed my weight on the stick which aided my movement. I came across a part of