The Blood Of War Part 3 Novels & Stories

THIRD PERSON’S POV The battlefield stood endlessly before Chandler. It was filled with so much chaos and bloodshed. Fires raged in the distance and warriors let out loud cries as they fought each other. The clash of steel against steel, the sounds of gun shots, the cracking of bones, the loud cries of the wounded, and the echoing sound of war drums filled the air. Chandler stood at the edge of it all, looking at the destruction with a furrowed brow. How had it come to this? How had Maya managed to ignite such a large-scale war?

They were the lost souls of the forest, trapped in this realm and controlled by a dark force. Russe and Reina fought with all their might, their eyes glinting in the strange light of the ethereal forest. They could feel the power of the dark force pushing against them, but they refused to back down. Finally, the last of the lost souls fell to the ground, defeated. Adelia ran towards them, tears streaming down her face. “You came for me,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. Russe wrapped her in a tight embrace, feeling the weight of her small form against his chest. He could feel her heartbeat, so frail and delicate, but still beating nonetheless.

The battlefield around me blurred, the clash of claws and the scent of blood becoming a disorienting symphony. Alpha Draxler, undeterred by my waning strength, refocused on Trevor. A vicious slash, a grotesque ballet of violence, painted Trevor's chest in a vivid display of crimson. The scene unfolded in agonizing slow motion, each drop of blood a testament to the sacrifices demanded by our world.

Malcolm slammed an enemy into the ground, his claws slicing through his chest. Callum crushed a wolf’s skull between his massive jaws, the crack of bone lost in the sea of screams. It was a massacre. Bodies piled high. The battlefield was drenched in crimson. And still, they fought. Because this war was far from over. Because Eliana had yet to shift. And Kade was still standing. Untouched. Unchallenged. Unstoppable. The night was not yet won. And the blood would keep spilling until it was.

The three of us look at each other. None of us need to speak. The war isn’t over. But for now, the three of us are still standing. Together. Bloody. Alive.

Someone behind her. And as Matteo rose slowly, blood dripping from his hands, the war began again.

Some wolves stalked into the forest, backing away with narrowed and suspicious eyes. Many shifted or stalked back to half destroyed homes. The fading scent of blood still lingered in the air, but there was finally a sense of closure. In action movies, the battle itself is always made out to be the worst part. The bloodshed and carnal violence that takes over a man when they’re at their lowest. It’s the resolution, the clean-up that’s the worst part of battle. Counting the dead, placing names to lifeless faces and bloody wolves.

One side churned root; the other mapped glass and ash. “Your queen will burn,” War said. “She’ll build.” “Same thing, done cleanly.” We locked edge to edge. My blade drew a rude bright line on his cheek. It sealed; he doesn’t bleed where men can see. “Choose,” he said. “Both.” The pulse hit—close, hard. The line flared—light, fire, third thing. The world changed gear. We met as men with bruised knuckles and hope and hit each other with the truth to see who liked it more.

“And bring some prisoners here, just in case.” So this was how the Blood Eagles would start the Third Great War. Using those marked warheads, they intended to put these two big shots on blaming each other’s attack and dragged the entire continent to choose sides. They would then take advantage of everything once the war exhausted both sides. This was what Eric said about the three fighting fishes. I needed to get out of here and warn the town. Unfortunately, the unpowered lights were turned on. Now that the entire airfield was visible, I could check the end of the runway. It was just a wall of rocks.

I said, gesturing to the large roof-to-floor height window, “I built this great empire, I wouldn't mind burning everything and everyone with it to the ground if I'm not providing with the very last bloodline of my murder. I really regret letting someone who shouldn't be here stay. Everyone in the small peaceful family will pay for the deceitful love their foremother showed me. Through the window, they could all see their home burn. Yes, this revenge would thrust like a fresh sweet wine. Cheers to sweet reprisal. “Please master,” One amongst the high howlers who was brave enough spoke, “ Please I beg of you, show mercy on us, we know nothing of how badly our ancestors have treated you,” “That