Theme Song Bloodline 소설 & 이야기

Kaelen had heard that story before; it was taught in royal history, and it happened in the forest they visited that night. “They cursed our bloodline with their dying magic,” Darius continued. “A curse designed to destroy the Alpha line.” Kaelen shook his head. “That’s just a legend." “I believed the same thing,” Darius said quietly. “Until tonight.” He lifted his hand weakly. Dark veins pulsed beneath his skin. “The moment you left for the hunt… the sickness began.” Kaelen felt Ravok shift uneasily inside him. The forest, the wolf murmured.

I carry the Godfather's bloodline. The air froze instantly. Marco's face turned a violent shade of red. The hand gripping Mia's backside tightened suddenly. She let out a muffled cry of pain but did not dare struggle. "What did you say?" The words squeezed out between Marco's teeth. His eyes locked onto my flat stomach, as if fire might erupt from them at any moment. The next second, his thick hand wrapped around my throat. "You've always been a rude little tramp. But at the very least, you shouldn't throw filth onto the Godfather."

The words are still ringing in my ears, like they followed me back from the dream. When I finished telling Mira, I saw fear flicker across her face. What is happening to her? Mira thought, her hands tightening around the edge of the tray she had brought. Humans don’t see this. Humans don’t hear this. Humans aren’t chosen by the wolves of prophecy… not like this. Her mind raced, flipping through every story she had ever been told about the Vale bloodline, about the SilverClaw line, about the ancient prophecies whispered among the elders. None of them had ever involved a human. None.

All this while, they had thought the bloodline of Kayla had all died. Lucan came back into view, He stood alongside Arthur and Beatrice. “Emmett, you have what you seek for.” He gestured with his hands at Rose. “She is the last bloodline of your former lover, Kayla.” Emmett looked at Lucan with hooded eyes. Lucan swore not to be scared of his fellow alpha, even if he was superior to him. “I'm far too gone to do anything right now, she has my blood running through her veins. She's the second most powerful werewolf. She may not know our wolf traditions but you all know we're now bounded by blood, which makes us mate.”

“I am here. Now.” We stepped into the night. Warriors gathered. The enemy approached under cover of new darkness. Martha’s final play had begun. The real battle for our bond, for the bloodline, and for everything we held would happen here. Under the same sky where we had found peace only a night before. As the first clash sounded, a final whisper reached me through the origin point. Martha’s voice, weak but triumphant. “One of you will not survive the dawn.” The fight exploded around us. I stood with Julian. The shadow stirred between us. The future remained uncertain. The bloodline watched. And the next hours would decide everything.

he sighed, a sound of genuine, disappointed resignation. He pressed down. The blade tore into the flesh of my left forearm. A gasp of pure, unadulterated agony tore from my throat, my body violently jerking against the heavy metal chair. The thick leather straps bit mercilessly into my wrists and chest, holding me pinned, offering no escape from the searing heat of the blade. Hot, crimson blood began to well up from the deep, clean line he had drawn, spilling over my skin and dripping slowly, rhythmically, onto the pristine white tile floor. In the blinding brightness of the room, the blood looked unnaturally dark, almost black.

“We already know the answer to that, don’t we, Xena?” I let him have his moment. For now. And just like that, our world shifted. Not with war. Not with blood. But with a single vow, sealed beneath a Venetian sky.

A bloodline web spun by fate, and a bait intricately made for the dragon’s success. Michael’s lips were in a frown, and his brain was in a frenzy as he tried to understand the words that were coming out of Kane’s mouth. The soldier didn’t say anything aside from agreeing now and then to what the man in front of him was saying. Kira and Michael knew that they were planning something big since Kane mentioned to the soldier that the plan must not be told to the old Sparo Mondragon, his father.

In a quiet corner of the universe, a new star was born, its light a perfect blend of gold, brown, and silver. The music played on. But now, woven into its very fabric, was the enduring legacy of the gardeners—a quiet, constant, beautiful note of hope, reminding every song, everywhere, that it was never, ever alone. The story of Bloodbound was over. But the song of the Weave was eternal.