Star Wars Blood Novels & Stories

The blood ran down in rivulets. So much blood. The ice sparkled sickeningly with red and all Kari could hear was the terrified screams for mercy and forgiveness. Soldiers begging for their lives, begging to end it. The terrified scream of Aster as he let her die by virtue of not protecting her. In his mind’s eye, the beautiful idyllic pool that showed his power was overtaken by creeping ice. The stunning, swirling patterns that iced over the top were blood red and swirling as the color grew bolder and bolder as if more blood was being added. Then more and more still.

The Blood-Rain was not a metaphor. It was a physical corruption, a heavy, metallic downpour that stained the world a deep, visceral crimson. As the ten thousand newly awakened Hallowed warriors marched out of the Silver Mines, the sky seemed to be hemorrhaging. Each drop that landed on the skin felt like a needle-prick of sorrow, a cold, cloying reminder of the lives Selene had sacrificed to fuel her ascension.

Scar sat beside Aria as she peeled the orange, arranging them on a plate beside her. “So you're getting married tomorrow” Aria asked still not understanding the rush behind the whole wedding. “Yes ma” Aria raised her eyebrow, did Scar just answer her ma,what parallel universe is this. “Why the rush,you are not fully healed, mentally, physically, psychologically and you are jumping into marriage” Aria seemed clearly worried,indeed she came with alot of baggages.

Power radiating from every movement. Ardyn. The First Blood King. He smiled sadly. "You finally came." Savannah stopped several feet away. "I know you." "You've seen me." "No." She shook her head. "Grayson has." Ardyn nodded. "He carries my Blood." "And you..." His smile softened. "...carry my promise." Before Savannah could ask what he meant, the valley suddenly darkened. The warm sunlight disappeared, and the river turned black. Flowers withered, Ardyn's expression hardened.

Dusk stains the world red and black, as if the sky itself has bled out over these ruined fields. The horse picks her way through the debris, each hoofstep muffled by layers of ash. We pass the remains of what was once a border village—no name now, no signpost standing. Only a tangle of half-burned timbers and walls that sag in on themselves like broken ribs. The air tastes of old smoke and something sweetly rotted. Even now, weeks on, it clings to the back of my throat.

“You don’t know me. And I don’t know you. But what I do know is that the Blood Moon is coming, and with it, war.” Raynor’s gaze snapped to hers, narrowing. "What do you know of the Blood Moon?" She didn’t answer right away, instead glancing down at her wrist, where the faint glow of her mark shimmered in the firelight. “There’s a prophecy," Erin said quietly. “A prophecy about someone who can awaken the Wolf God. The Moon’s Orphan. The Silverblood.” Raynor’s eyes widened in recognition. The Silverblood. His blood ran cold. “You—” His voice faltered for a moment. “You think that’s me?”

During my three-year-old son's preschool physical, his blood type didn't match mine or my wife's. I had just printed the divorce papers when I suddenly heard my son's voice. [This disgusting man is so stupid. He's raised me, his own little brother, as his son for years and still has no idea!] [Lol, hurry up and get divorced. Once they divorce, I can cling openly to my real mom!] [And divorced men are unwanted anyway. From now on, every dollar he earns will be mine!] My wife was still anxiously explaining, "Honey! I really never betrayed you! Do you really want a divorce?" I looked at my son's tightly closed lips and excited eyes, then tore up the divorce papers instead. "No divorce. S

She starts toward the mess, probably planning to clean it up, and I want to tell her not to bother, want to tell her to just leave and take her stupid concern and her circadian rhythms with her. But then she kneels down next to the broken plate and reaches for one of the larger pieces of ceramic. Her hand slips. The edge of the shard catches her palm, cutting a line across it that immediately starts to bleed. She makes a small sound, barely more than a breath, and pulls her hand back. “Leave it,” I say, my voice coming out rougher. “It’s fine. I just need to—” “I said leave it.” She looks up at me, her hand pressed against her stomach now, trying to hide the cut even though I can already see