My Blood Mage System Novels & Stories

"We should go." He went on walking and she kept on following behind him, the silence resumed between them until at last he said, "The mages developed a technique called blood tracking." "Blood tracking?" she repeated. 'I haven't heard of it.' "Yes. They use it as a means of hunting men like animals. They use their magic to create shadow creatures, conjured beasts born of darkness and imbued with a man's blood. The blood from which they are formed is that which they will endlessly pursue. They sense one thing and that is the man's blood. They are bloodthirsty in the most literal sense."

The evenings belonged to my mother's journals. After helping Mel close the bakery, I would curl up near the small fireplace upstairs with a blanket and whatever journal I was currently working through. The more I read, the more questions I found. Tonight was no different. I carefully turned another yellowed page. The handwriting immediately caught my attention. Blood magic appears to manifest differently depending upon the bloodline carrying it. I sat up slightly. That was new. My eyes moved quickly across the page. Most historical records describe manipulation. Control. Extraction.

It's worse than I imagined. A jagged scar cuts across his ribs, but it's not just a scar. The flesh is blackened and twisted, and within it, something glows—a deep, pulsing red light like embers in dying coals. The mark is shaped like a broken moon encircled by thorns, and as I watch, shadows writhe beneath his skin, spreading out from the mark like roots. "This is the Bloodwraith Mark," he says, his voice hollow. "My father tried to break a sacred bond, and Vorrak punished our entire bloodline for it. This curse turns emotion into hunger. The stronger I feel, the more dangerous I become. And with you…" He shakes his head. "Everything I feel is amplified a hundredfold. Your fear feeds me. Yo

“He taught me strategy. He taught me arrogance.” “Which did you keep?” “Both, until I watched him die.” The words weren’t theatrical; they were iron filings settling. “The Dominion learned he carried moonblood—old lines mingled with witch veins. They wanted our house as proof that magic and wolf could breed true. They got him instead. I was too young then to stop it. Too proud to ask for help.” Kaelira sat with that. “And the tether?”

Every strike, every block, every parry was survival, strategy, and declaration all at once. Blood magic. I felt it thrumming in my veins, a tether to every heartbeat in my chamber. I drew it outward, pulling Maldric’s attacks into my current, redirecting their force. My pulse became a drumbeat, my life a conduit, and his assaults sang through me. I felt his fury, his surprise. He hadn’t anticipated the synergy of wolf, shadow, fae glamour, and the deep tether of blood-magic.

Morning vampire, rather. I honestly have no interest in getting an attendant. Why would I want a personal blood bag to follow me around? I enjoy my privacy, and the attendant system is rather reductive for humans. We pay off their debts and solve their financial problems, and they go into a contract of servitude that lasts for years. Where's the dignity in that?

asked Pawn Clara. "Blood pulse," replied Pawn Moirai. "What?!" exclaimed Pawn Clara, her mouth hanging open. "Knight Eloise was the only one in the entire vampire society who could use this magic," explained Pawn Moirai with a smile, attempting to close Pawn Clara's gaping mouth with her finger. Blood Pulse is a rare magic in which one manipulates blood into solid weapons by giving it elemental properties and using it as a fire blast. "You both should use your tongue less and your hands more. When a corner is visible, stand together with your heads close." Upon Bishop Eloise's words, both of them bowed their heads and were about to go the other way, but she stopped them.

His eyes appeared red-rimmed as he replied hoarsely, "I honestly do not know" Evelyn mumbled, "My father used to say that a mage's offspring carried a recessive gene which can become a dominant gene in his/her offspring. But it was a rare phenomenon and my father always laughed it off, saying it was a myth". Her mother had a rueful smile on her lips and a distant look in her eyes.

Soon, she noticed the space between the spear and her chest had grown wider. Méah spat out blood after Purple Smoke released her. Now that she was about to defeat her silver spear, she have to make a move to stop her. Méah extracted all her blood that came out of her wounds despite how weak she was. Silver veins were awakened in her entire body. Her blood gathered together and began flying towards the spear. It wrapped around it as though a red snake. And then it disappeared. There was a sound of glass cracking. Méah spat out another moutful of blood. Her veins and internal organs were badly injured. It was now impossible for her to live.

“Oh, but you did. Your fire woke it. The boy carried sleeping blood. Old blood. The kind the Council thought was gone. And you, my dear, pulled it out of him like pulling thorns from skin.” I shook my head hard. “No. He was just Damon. He was normal.” Magnus laughed, low and cruel. “No one is normal when they stand too close to you. You are the spark that wakes the dead blood. You make the buried rise.” Damon groaned, clutching his chest. The glow spread across his neck and jaw, his veins shining silver like rivers of light. His body shook as if something inside him was tearing free.