Sacred Ink Novels & Stories

The leaders of the stealth vanguard dropped to one knee in unison, their heads bowed before the violet flame. Kiarra stepped forward, dipping a heavy raven feather into the stone bowl. The ink inside was a swirling, viscous mixture of crushed iron-root, mountain spring water, a drop of Nalvath's ancient blood, and the shadow-essence provided by King Malakor. As she approached Lucian, the ink began to hiss, reacting to the latent alpha aura radiating from his skin.

The machine hummed like a restless heartbeat, the needle gliding across skin as Ayla Cross filled the curve of a raven’s wing with black ink. The smell of antiseptic and cedar oil wrapped around her, the familiar perfume of creation. Outside, rain streaked the windows of The Runed Den, her little shop tucked between a pawn store and a bakery that stayed open too late.

Then, while my hand was still on the page, something strange happened. The ink beneath my fingertip warmed. For a split second, the letters blurred and rearranged themselves, shifting into other words only I could see: SACRIFICIAL VESSEL. BLOODTHORN. MOONCREST. My pulse spiked. I blinked. The letters snapped back into their original shape. With a jolt, I snatched my hand away and shoved the ledger back under the linens just as a maid trudged up the stairs, arms full of firewood.

The ink was dark, permanent, and simple. "We are no longer the code or the beast; we are the breath between the notes."

"You even teased that you'd want a sausage roaster thrown into your dowry. Look at us now, a dream come true." I accepted the plate he offered, nibbling on the food with a heavy heart. The flavors were surprisingly delightful, yet they could not sweeten the sorrow that filled me. Tears streamed down my cheeks, unchecked. In tougher times, Marvin was always there, wrapping me in a careful embrace, whispering promises of sweeter tomorrows. "Tracy, it doesn't matter how bitter today is, I'll fill your life with sweetness tomorrow," he had vowed. I clung to him tighter back then, whispering, "As long as you're here, I'm already in bliss."

The nights I cried she would have rubbed soothing circles on my back like she used to when I was younger, fix me some lemon tea while explaining to me that everything happens for a reason but if that was the case why did I take my mother, how could it– “That doesn't even make any sense !” Cas yells drawing me from my thoughts. “How doesn't it make any sense, it has a SEED,” Sydney says “S-E-E-D makes it a fruit not a vegetable so it is not your ‘ famous vegetable soup’ if it has tomatoes in it”. My brother glares at her as if holding back a very nasty reply and instead looks at me and says “as I was saying SISTER” he says glancing back at Sydney very pointedly in which in return she rolls h

Haden He looked at the sigil like he could burn it out with his eyes alone. When he spoke, it was with the kind of control that hurts to keep. “You can copy a Honshu’s ink if you’ve seen it and survived it. You can’t hold it unless you feed it.” “Feed it what,” Keiral asked. “Blood,” he said. “Or bond. There isn’t a third option.” Ellan’s mouth was a hard line. “Who has seen your ink.”

The Child Grows POV: Nya (Narrated Epistle with Interwoven Scenes) Somewhere Beyond Time—The Ink Between Ages A warm quill glides across aged parchment. The ink does not smear—it pulses faintly, the color of volcanic gold, shifting between hues like a living ember. The hand that holds the quill is steady. Deliberate. Young, yet ancient. And the voice that speaks is quiet. Soft as a lullaby. “To the One Who Comes After…”

Santo may be wearing Don's ring, but no one is fooled about who has the authority in this house. Santo clears his throat and explains himself as he adds a hellish mountain of cream to his pancakes. "I was expecting cornetti... You always make me cornetti in the morning," he grumbles. He holds the liquid chocolate in one hand, and the caramel in the other. He hesitates between the two and ends up pouring it all over his cream. I return to my seat, but I still have to stand for a few moments.

Holding hands, Dawn and Malachi stood opposite one another. Elder Raymond announced, "We are here today to honor these two as they embark on their path to becoming mates. Mates are sacred, a unique connection bestowed upon us by our revered moon goddess. Our devotion to the Moon goddess will be challenged, and we are expected to accept our destined mates. This is a gift we should treasure always during our time on Earth. Malachi Edwards, do you accept Dawn Black as your lifelong mate, to hold dear and cherish from this moment forward? “I do,” Malachi said.