Skyrim Blood On The Ice Novels & Stories

Lena The silver moonlight cast long shadows through the forest as I led our small group up the treacherous mountain path. My muscles ached from days of travel, but determination pushed me forward. Ailith's trail had grown stronger—we were close now. "Hold," I whispered, raising my hand to halt the others. Bryn crouched beside me, his keen eyes scanning the rocky terrain ahead. "What is it?" I inhaled deeply, sorting through the complex tapestry of scents. "Blood. Garrick's blood." I pointed to dark stains on the rocks nearby. "There was a fight here. Recently."

Pelin screamed, diving to the earth at the last possible millisecond. I stepped into his path. I wasn’t moving; I was a statue of ice. As the ram reached me, the heat of his horns melting the eyelashes on my face, I swung. “Iced Earth!” I yelled. I didn’t aim for his head. I aimed for the ground beneath his hooves and his front legs. The moment my icy blade touched the ground, a flash of ice shards erupted and a strand of ice froze the ground towards Aries. Even the moisture in the air turned to shards.

Her voice cut through the hum, dagger ready, frost stinging her face. Jasper’s axe swung, blue eyes blazing, Boulder growling. “Got one!” His blade hacked a slab, rune cracking, blood gushing, frost churning red, hum stuttering, spires shaking, ice falling like ash. “Mar, left—another!” His cloak billowed, shielding her, axe gleaming, warmth her anchor, runes pulsing, growls closer.

Besides, I think they're too impatient to do things calmly. "What do you know about this wine called 'Blood of the Wise'?" Judging Orion's expression, there's no doubt, he's willing to tell him everything he wants to know. Ah. The scent of victory.

The pack’s warriors scrambled, claws out, but the air was thick with fear. The howl from the north, cold, ancient, hungry still echoed, promising death. “It’s here!” Aria shouted, her voice sharp. The crimson eclipse swallowed the moon, casting the camp in a blood-red glow. Her bond with Kael pulsed, his strength grounding her, but the Oath’s whisper clawed at her mind: His blood will free me. The shadows surged, forming wolves with fur like liquid night, their eyes blazing crimson. At their head stood the Daughter of the Iceborn, her silver fur glinting, her claws dripping with dark energy.

Kael rasped, his hand shooting out to catch my arm. I leaned against a jagged shard of ice, my chest heaving. The silver light in my veins was pulsing a rhythmic, angry red. "I can't... I can't keep it down, Kael. The Blood Moon is too close." I looked back. Behind us, the pristine snow wasn't just marked by our boots. It was scorched. Everywhere my feet touched, the ice had melted into blackened slush, steam rising in thin, ghostly plumes. I was a literal flare in the dark, a beacon for anything with eyes.

His frustration is tempered now by palpable relief, his protective instincts evident in every line of his face. Elysia and her friend touch the crystal when Bertha asks, and I slice my thumb with the help of the knife she gave me earlier and spill the three drops of my blood over the crystal. The onyx crystal turns red. Ryker presses my shoulder, standing beside me. As the final echoes of the spell’s power settle around us, a fire surrounds me again, and this time, I see my wolf. Tears fall down my cheeks as I feel relieved to see her and feel her sense of freedom, though she seems weak.

Blood awakens the ice, ice carries death. ​Every single drop of my Shadow-Blood hitting the northern snow began to trigger a dormant, ancient magic seal I had spent months studying in secret. Beneath the thick layers of ice under our feet, webs of black energy were already creeping outward, preparing to lock this entire outpost into a lethal ice trap.

The fighters start to pound across our ice floor while the sphinxes create fireballs, rapidly launching them in our direction. I am distabilized, one hand on the rushing wave, the other on the mouth of the ice path. One swipe of my arm causes the ice to sever in two. The enforcers topple into the water, screaming. But more rush up like ants, taking their place. I continue to slice off portions of the ice sled until only a block remains that I and Umber stand on.

The cracked crystal lay suspended in the center, rotating slowly, bleeding faint red light across the runes. Sylra stood beside me, hands trembling, holding the final catalyst—a silver dagger, its edge etched with ancient writing. “It’s your blood that anchors it,” she said quietly. “You know that.” “I do.” “And once you start, there’s no turning back.” I met her gaze. “There never was.” I took the blade and drew it across my palm. The blood hit the crystal, and the world shuddered. The air thickened. The floor trembled.