The Vampire Diaries Bloodlines Novels & Stories

Miss, your clothes," Elena said as she came in with a tray of clothes. Clatter! Christine rose from the bathtub and walked out, and at that moment red light seemed to shine from the depths of her black eyes. (One hundred words omitted here) Clatter! The tray in Elena's hands fell to the floor, along with the clothes on it, but no one paid any attention. (Two hundred words omitted) It was more than an hour before the red light in Christine's eyes disappeared, while Elena had passed out more than ten minutes earlier. Every Bloodline Warlock will face the urge from their bloodline when they reach adulthood. As the name suggests, once this symptom strikes, they become impulsive, bloodthirsty and

I walked into the store, dropping off my hunting tools before stepping into the house to freshen up. I walked into the shower, turning on the knob. I pressed my hands against the wall, bowing my hair allowing the cold water to splatter on my head and drip down through my face. Aemond’s words still echoed in my mind as though he was standing behind me. I turned around wiping water off my face immediately but saw nothing. It was just me and my thoughts. “Lyra is the key. Her bloodline—do you even understand what that means? If she’s truly the one, your reign would not just be as Alpha—it would be as a god among men.”

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?

"Steal her bloodline?" An even greater uproar erupted from the crowd. "What is she talking about?" "How can a bloodline be stolen?" "What does this mean?" Lyla's face turned a deathly white. "W-what are you talking about?" she stammered. "Stealing a bloodline? I don't know what you mean!" I ignored her pathetic denial and turned to the stunned Damon. He staggered back, all the color gone from his face. "No… impossible… you were just an outcast…"

This isn’t about lust anymore. This is about empire. Blood. Legacy. “You wanted to marry me,” I whisper as the gag comes off, “so you could have the Bishop reign.” I lift my chin. “But I’m not your crown. I’m your curse.” Jace’s hand finds my face—his palm firm but reverent. “She’s mine,” he says softly, but loud enough for Damon to hear. “Not by blood. Not by alliance. By choice.” And that ruins Damon more than any bullet could have.

I froze. “And she—my mother—knew him.” “They weren’t enemies,” Malrik said. “Not at first.” The orchard felt too small again. Too close. The air too thick to swallow. “What was she?” I asked again. “Tell me the truth.” He hesitated—and that scared me more than any answer. “Your mother,” he said slowly, choosing each word with painful precision, “belonged to a bloodline older than vampires. Older than the factions. A lineage that could break curses, rewrite fate, bend memory and time.”

"You'll see. You will realize that you are now mine. I will be the owner of your child. And you—well, you'll either voluntarily serve me or die. The world around me appeared to fall apart as she spoke. The air became darker and colder. I sensed that her power was increasing while mine was rapidly diminishing. There was no escape. Not in this manner. But then a notion came to me through the fog of my panic. The rogue had mentioned something about an old bloodline and my abilities. Is this the case? Was this what I had been looking forward to? I summoned something I didn't entirely grasp by reaching deep within myself with the last of my remaining strength. That ancient force was boiling to th

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.”

“Blood magic is not instinctual. It is structured and dangerous. Without understanding the laws governing it, backlash is inevitable. You were lucky it merely exploded” “Lucky” I echoed hollowly. “There’s more…..” she continued, “....Your blood—” I felt it before she finished, a tightening in my chest. “It carries the scent of ancients.... ” Maria said quietly, “.... Old magic. Bloodlines that no longer exist openly.” My pulse thundered in my ears. “That makes you vulnerable.... ” she went on. “.... Especially here” “Because of… wolves?” I asked. “And vampires... ” she added calmly.

Calyx suddenly sat upright from the couch, eyes narrowing sharply. “Wait.” All of us looked toward him. He grabbed several parchment sheets and spread them quickly across the table. “I’ve been tracing bloodlines.” Atlas groaned immediately. “You say that like it’s normal.” “It is normal.” “No it isn’t.” Calyx ignored him completely. “There are certain families and bloodlines that keep appearing in old records around vampire rumors.” He pointed at several names written across the parchment. “Strong bloodlines. Old ones.” My stomach tightened slightly as I looked down.