Novel & Cerita Sorcerer Bloodlines

He fell silent, though his smirk lingered. Gabriel continued. “Mind manipulation of this level can only be the work of a sorcerer. Someone forcing his will onto others and shaping them into weapons. Whoever this sorcerer is, I suspect he’s related to the late Guido Regis. Guido once confided in me about a half-brother, born from his father’s affair with a witch. He never gave me a name, only the fact that this brother was half-Lycan, half-sorcerer.” The group exchanged uneasy glances.

She pressed her palm to the Sanctum door, and it blazed with memories older than both of them. I watched through my father's eyes as the truth unfolded. Richard Blackthorne, Marcus's father, standing before a council of Lunar Witches thirty years ago. "The bloodlines are too diluted. We need concentration. Power distilled into a single vessel." "That would require specific pairings," the eldest witch replied. "Hunter and Primordial. Predator and prey becoming one." "Then we arrange it. David Rivera has the right bloodline – descended from the Wolf Hunters who nearly destroyed us. Seraphina Erebis carries the Primordial flame. Their child would be—"

Gregory replies with a nod. "It has come to my attention that he carries dragon slayer abilities, which I have discovered during my time training him. To my knowledge, only humans of magical bloodlines may carry the dragon slayer trait. As far as I know only you human royals come from magical bloodlines since the rest of your kind died during The Fires of Alira, so I must ask if the blacksmith is your son,” Soren questions. My heart nearly stops as Soren lays everything out in there open. I am curious as to what his response will be, but I am also consumed with fear.

Though he had brought her here, the idea of this ritual—of what it would take—unsettled him more than he cared to admit. The sorceress smiled, but it wasn’t a kind smile. It was the smile of someone who knew things, dark things. “I have most of what I need already, Alpha,” she began, her voice raspy, like dry leaves rustling in the wind. “But there are a few specific elements that must be gathered.” Damien crossed his arms over his chest. “What elements?” The sorceress leaned forward slightly, her eyes narrowing as if she relished what she was about to say. “I need alpha blood,” she said, her words cutting through the air. “Since the ritual is for your daughter, your blood will do.”

“Tonight, under the blood moon, we witness the passing of power. Alpha Alexander Laurent, step forward.” Alpha Alexander approached the altar. In his hand was the ceremonial dagger—the same blade used by his father “I, Alexander Laurent, Alpha of the Silverthorn Pack, renounce my title and pass it to my son, my blood, my successor.” He sliced his palm and let his blood fall on the stone. “By blood and moon, I release my hold.” The ground itself seemed to hum as the blood moon overheard pulsed brighter. “Ethan Laurent,” Sage said, “step forward and claim your birthright.”

Kaelen had heard that story before; it was taught in royal history, and it happened in the forest they visited that night. “They cursed our bloodline with their dying magic,” Darius continued. “A curse designed to destroy the Alpha line.” Kaelen shook his head. “That’s just a legend." “I believed the same thing,” Darius said quietly. “Until tonight.” He lifted his hand weakly. Dark veins pulsed beneath his skin. “The moment you left for the hunt… the sickness began.” Kaelen felt Ravok shift uneasily inside him. The forest, the wolf murmured.

But maybe…just maybe, if a piece of her lingered, she wouldn’t be lost completely. “I’ll do it,” she said, voice steadier than she felt. The sorcerer nodded and reached for a dagger, its curved blade glinting in the firelight. “Your blood, freely given.” Ayaan extended her arm. The cut was swift, a sharp sting followed by the warmth of her blood trickling down her skin. The sorcerer caught it in a small stone bowl, murmuring words in a language older than the jungle itself. The blood swirled unnaturally, twisting and thickening as the magic took hold.

Then, softer, almost unwillingly, “But history has been wrong before.” She paced once, restless. “There were whispers. Bloodlines thought extinguished. Children born outside the pack. Hidden in plain sight. Marked but unclaimed.” She stopped in front of me. “If this were a mistake,” she said, her voice darkening, “the power would have rejected you. It would have torn you apart.” My chest tightened. Fear crawled up my spine. “I’m scared.” Mira’s eyes locked onto mine. “The wolves you saw,” she said slowly, “silver, gold, red, black… those are not pack wolves. Those are ancient aspects. Guardians of bloodlines long buried.”

“The coldest. The most dangerous warlocks. But they were wiped out centuries ago.” Lucy shakes her head, flipping to the next page. “Here!” She taps the parchment, eyes scanning. “Not just anyone can carry this curse. Only a few bloodlines can.” She begins listing them by names, marks, histories. Someone exhales. “That means the accursed isn’t from our bloodline.” They all let out a sigh of relief. But I'm not breathing. “How could someone like that be among us?” I ask, disbelief tightening my throat. “I’m not done,” Lucy snaps, her eyes cutting into me. “There are two more bloodlines I haven’t called. They’re wolves… just like us.”

If killing one person is not enough, they will continue to kill until they have vented their anger. Of course, there is no place in the main world for this kind of evil bloodline sorcerer, but the problem is that if other bloodline sorcerers lose control of their bloodline impulses and take the path of killing to solve problems, they will inevitably fall into evil, which is not uncommon in history. It is even recorded that the symptoms of the bloodline impulses of one bloodline wizard family are even stranger. After they have an attack, they have to run naked, without even a cloth. If you catch them, you will have the heart to die.