The Blood Of Olympus Hardback Novels & Stories

The touch. I pressed my hand against my knee and looked at my palm. Nothing there. No mark, nothing visible. But I had felt it, the second his hand landed on my shoulder, something moving through the point of contact like a current, like something recognising something, and it had startled me so badly I had almost stepped back. It was the blood magic. It had to be the blood magic. I was freshly made and unstable and a working that large and that recent would produce side effects, sensitivity, misfiring responses to contact. That was what it was. That was the only thing it was.

Killing Olympias was a piece of cake for a Transformation assassin. Olympias stood helplessly as the water sword came crashing down on her chest. In her mind, she thought of many ways to avoid the attack. Unfortunately, she couldn’t keep up with her cultivation strength. The gap between the realms was so big that she couldn’t avoid it at all. Soon, the water sword pierced through Olympias’s chest. At this very moment, a terrifying force suddenly erupted in Olympias’ body, forming a red aura armor that was the shape of a fish scale which was visible to the naked eye.

The night of the Blood Eclipse still evokes horror. Julian's corpse, which had returned to its original form due to the loss of magic in his death, lay lifeless on the ground floor of Olympus Tower. The arrogant man who once thought he was holding onto heaven in Bloodmoon is now just a pile of dirty flesh that history will never remember.

A jolt of shock coursed through professor Ericson's body when he saw blood smeared on the ground. He walked over to where it was with his heart thumping and bent over it. No. It wasn't a lycanthropic blood. He sighed in relief as he got to his feet. A lycan's blood usually is thicker, mushier and a darker shade of red. He didn't know it but it was Penelope's when a ghoul had beaten her unconscious. "Do you think they'd have gone farther?" Professor Ericson asked as his eyes settled on the silhouette of the mountains thousands of metres away from where they were.

The torches flickered. The courtyard floor trembled under my knees. Oliver’s breath hitched sharply against my skin. Then he drank. Not out of hunger. Not out of instinct. But out of need. Pure blood surged through him—my blood, my strength, my life—rushing into him like fire igniting through frozen veins. His entire body jerked, and he dropped to one knee with me still in his arms, gripping me tightly as if afraid I would disappear. His eyes snapped fully open, the blue haze cracking violently as green burst through, bright and furious.

I look down and that’s when I see it. Everywhere is covered in blood. I quickly flick my gaze back up and my eyes widen. His hand is gone, but his sharp eyes—sharp and empty bears deeply into mine. He leans on toward me, the blood around me increasing. My breath catches.

And now Ethan, the man who had chained her in lies but still, somehow, part of her, was gone. Gone, with nothing left but a bloody handprint. Olivia stands trembling in the firelight, Jessica smiling like a predator, the bloody handprint glowing dark on the floorboards. The book in Olivia’s hands seems to pulse with heat, as if alive. And in the shadows above, a whisper not her own speaks from the air, “Choose, heir, blood or vow.”

This generation is indeed promising. "Well, then..." Dana drawled with her eyes glowing iridescently under the light of the sun that peeked through the leaves of the forest. Tara turned her head slightly at Chloe, her eyebrows raised. "I shall show you the power of the Blood Star in all of her glory." She raised her hand, fingers outstretched, as if reaching out towards the Olaire. The Olaire guy choked on his scream as his blood began to boil. "W-what--"

Darryl smiled faintly at his question and brought out something. "As a member of the Blood Hand Organization, you should recognize what this is." His voice was almost a whisper. He was holding a unique blood jade in his hand. Carved upon it was a hand holding a sword—the sword of Olena, the organization's chief. The blood jade was akin to Olena's identity. Before Olena left Pearl City, she gave Darryl the blood jade, informing him that anyone from the organization would have to listen to him once he showed them the blood jade.

Just another reminder that the world rose above me in ways I had never been able to reach. But then the faint scent of beeswax and roses slipped under the door, soft as a whispered promise, and memory flooded back. The Blood Opera House. The stage. The masked man in the shadows. 'She is mine.' My hand flew to the choker. The roses were black metal, cool and smooth against my fingertips. The stone at the center—deep crimson like a droplet of wine—had cooled overnight. Yet when I pressed it, my pulse raced against it like a trapped bird.