The Last Bloodline Novels & Stories

She thought of the sterile laboratory she had seen in her dreams, the cold tables, and the sharp needles. "And there’s more," Rowan continued, his finger scrolling through the data. "He’s not alone. He has Elder Malrec with him. The Council has officially authorized a 'Bloodline Purge.' They aren't just coming for you and the baby. They are coming to level this entire mountain so the Silver lineage never rises again." The clearing went silent. Even the outcasts, who had been practicing their strikes nearby, stopped to listen. The news traveled through the camp like a cold shiver.

I never thought it had anything to do with Maliyla, but the more I thought about it, the more it made sense; all the bad shit started happening right after she left. It wasn't until I started researching her bloodline that I found the most interesting thing about her. Until that moment, I did not know that a bloodline like hers existed, and I was sure that her parents didn't know. However, it now made sense why her father was such a skilled fighter and why everything started falling apart after she was gone. Maliyla came from the Odulf bloodline. As a result of having a member of the bloodline in the pack, it was said that all aspects of the pack would flourish. Although the books didn't hav

Only a Moonblood could wield that kind of power. The books I'd gotten from my shelves whispered to me, their pages burned with silver ink. "The Last Daughter shall rise," they said. "Born of lost blood, mated to three as one." Aisla was the final thread in a tapestry that had been woven for generations. I had prayed never to see it in my lifetime. And yet, here she is.

In the centre stood a low altar carved from a single piece of black granite and on it rested a shallow silver bowl filled with dark water. “This is where the Bloodline Rite was first performed,” she said and rested her fingers on the edge of the altar. “It was never about crowning a queen. It was created to bind unstable bloodlines, to steady heirs born from two rival packs so the child could not be weaponised by either side.” She met my eyes.

His response was to crush my fingers underfoot and hiss, "If you hadn't been so greedy for the inheritance, Ethan and the others wouldn't have gone out that night, and they wouldn't have died in that crash! "I've put up with you all this time just to see you pay for what you've done to Ethan and the rest!" In the end, Dad beat me to death. My body was contorted into a terracotta figure, eternally bowing down at the graves of my half-siblings. As I remembered the pain from my last moments in that previous life, I clenched my fists.

“Now.” In the living room Damian had pulled out a whiteboard. Like this was some kind of war room. “Obasi wants the company,” Damian said. “He swapped babies twenty-eight years ago. Me and… someone else.” Marcus went completely still. “DNA test tomorrow,” Damian continued. “All of us. And the baby when it’s born.” Zara’s stomach flipped. “You think—” “I think Obasi wouldn’t be this desperate unless the bloodline was wrong,” Damian said.

It was strictly forbidden by the pack rules for any werewolf to remain in their tents during the morning work hours. _But who cares? The rules were meant for others, not me._ My name is Samantha Emberwood. I was born half-werewolf, half-nymph, under a special lineage of wolf known as Purebred. Unlike others of my kind who have the ability to transform and communicate directly with their wolves, Purebreds possess the ability to separate from their inner wolf, creating a special bond that grants us control and mastery over their abilities. In the entire Dawn Runner pack, I'm the only one born with the Purebred Bloodline. Rumor has it that I inherited my abilities from my birth mother. But the

Ever since she arrived at Blackthorn, it hadn’t appeared and she would have preferred it that way, but now, she feared it won’t always be like that anymore. On her arm, she saw the lines again, like vines twisting and circling. It moved on its own and it had a glow of its own—a faint one. She raised her arm and watched it closely, not understanding what it was and why it chose her out of the billions of people alive. Or could it be that she wasn’t the only one? Like how she discovered that there are vampires and wolves in the school, could there be more out there? Even from her other school?

he said. I nodded slowly. “It’s the binding that locks away the Old Powers beneath the ley lines. It's what my bloodline was sworn to guard.” He shook his head. “That’s what we told you. It’s not the full truth.” I frowned. “Then what is?” My mother reached into her cloak and drew out a small, weathered book, bound in faded leather, etched with ancient runes so old they seemed to shift under my gaze. “This,” she said quietly, “is the true oath of the Weber line.”

My life, cataloged like a dossier. My throat went dry. I shuffled through the pile with trembling fingers. More photos. My mother at the market, my father shaking hands with a man I didn’t recognize. My younger brother on his motorcycle before he was sent to America. Each moment captured from a distance, as if someone had been watching us. And then—the house. My family’s estate. Pictures of my father shaking hands with men I didn’t recognize. Men with hard eyes and cruel smiles. Some pages were crossed out, black bars slashing across lines of text, but one word appeared again and again.