Seraphim Tattoo Design Novels & Stories

he insisted. But his hands trembled slightly. He felt the thread between them hum softly. Not strained. But tired. He placed his hand over his heart. “Don’t burn yourself for me,” he murmured to the sky. In the threshold, Seraphine felt the whisper. She smiled faintly despite the exhaustion. “I would,” she answered quietly. She looked again at the scar. Then at the spreading mark on her shoulder. It was not just a wound. It was a tether. A sign that the darkness had touched her.

The shock on his usually unreadable face was palpable. "It’s not designed to draw anything in," Samuel whispered, pulling back as if burned. "It’s a siphon and an anchor. The inverted symbol is meant to intercept the Holy Power during the transference, to pollute and redirect it. Seraphina doesn't just want Xian'na dead; she means to steal the power." The worst detail came next. Samuel pressed his senses deeper, reading the structural intent that terrified him.

She couldn’t quite get her hair to sit to cover the Dhampir markings that sat in the center of her décolletage, also the same silver colour of her birthmark. All Dhampir’s were born with the 4 elemental markings somewhere on their body only, Seraphina had a fifth symbol nestled in the middle of the diamond shape markings. When she was 11, her childish curiosity had her ask her Master why she had the birth mark and the extra symbol with her Dhampir markings, she was stripped and beaten and left in the courtyard for 3 days and nights for thinking her ‘disfiguration’ made her special. She never dared ask anyone else again. Seraphina sighed as she recalled the memory and wiped a lone tear from h

She stood just outside the circle, silver hair flowing like liquid moonlight, eyes filled with sorrow deeper than graves. “You were close,” she said softly. “Closer than any before you. But the First Moon demands exactness. The ritual is incomplete without the final binding, a vow spoken in blood under true darkness, sealed with a kiss of life from the one who carries the original betrayal’s scar.” Kael’s gaze snapped to her. “What scar?” Seraphine lifted her wrist, the perfect circle scar Elara had seen before. “Mine. The mark left when the curse first split the packs. It must be kissed, life to life, by the bridge and her mate, while the last drop of willing blood falls on the fang.”