Tremors 5: Bloodlines Novels & Stories

I tightened my grip and replied calmly, “Don’t worry. Even if I strangle a piece of trash like you with my bare hands, those snipers won’t be able to stop me. Trust me—I’m no rookie either.” I raised my voice, locking eyes with him. “Still haven’t figured out what to say to save your pathetic life?” Suddenly, sirens blared in the distance. Dozens of vehicles were pulling up. Nathan, his voice hoarse and cracked, screamed, “You’re done for! They’re here now—just wait for the bullets! Mr. Andy Stormbringer will never let you live!” I clenched my hand even harder. But how could I let him die so easily?

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.”

"It's too early. Jax, it's too f**king early!" "Easy, stay with me. Deep breaths." Jax hovered, his radio chirping with frantic reports. "Medic! I need a team at the chapel entrance, now!" The air around Phineas began to vibrate. It wasn't the wind. A silver hum started in the marrow of his bones, a low frequency that made the pebbles on the ground dance. The Lunar bloodline—the dormant power Leopold had tried to kill—was thrashing against the trauma of the return. It was a physical crisis, a storm of gold and silver light flickering behind Phineas’s eyelids.

A floor track is moving them out of frame, one by one, while he keeps his face turned toward us. I do not like the way he says it. The floor jolts. A lower support gives way where Renn’s first charge weakened the ring. The mother chamber tilts another degree. The relic tube swings hard, glass cracking louder this time. Silver blood leaks from the fracture in one bright thread. It falls. Every clone in the chamber turns toward it. So do I. Damian’s voice snaps, “Do not touch it.” “I know.” “Elena.” “I know.”

ELARA'S POV My fingers stretched as far as they could, but the cold edge of the leather strap was still just out of reach. Red emergency lights flashed against the concrete walls, throwing long shadows across the ceiling. On the floor, the Director was groaning. His hands were clamped over his eyes, and blood mixed with soot was leaking through his fingers. He was dizzy and confused, but the pure terror of what he would do when he got up kept my heart pounding hard against my ribs.

He didn't reply, forcing me to peer into those unreadable eyes and drink him in. “Is this from the blood oath?” I tried again. He shook his head, leaning into my touch like an obedient pet. His eyes were trained on me, as if challenging me to a gaze holding standoff. “No.” He said after a few minutes. He turned his other hand where a small scar marred his palm. “This is it.” “While this,” He said and his hand connected with mine which was still clinging to his face. My heart beat tripled. He continued effortlessly. “This Happened in a fight many years back.”

“They are tuning for the bloodline specifically. Residual energy and luminous markers. If we trigger one, the third party will have confirmation of both presence and direction.” They cleared the denser residual section without a full spike and continued into a broader fold that offered intermittent cover. Damian risked a brief stationary interval under deep overhang to allow the current a partial reduction and to run a narrow residual query. He restored contact at Lyra’s wrist the moment the bloodline climbed in response to the stillness. The orientation locked. The current settled into a directed, still-elevated state rather than true baseline.

Not on land. Not through ley lines. Through blood. I stagger upright. Ashcroft’s eyes sharpen. “You can’t anchor without foundation.” “You’re right.” I press my palm to the earth. But I don’t reach downward. I reach inward. The baby. Asher. Kade. Kieran. Three divine carriers. Bloodline. Not geography. If ley lines can be severed— Blood can replace them. It’s dangerous. Terrifying. But it’s the only option. “Isla, don’t,” Morgan whispers.

Reclaim House Vance. Her fingers tightened around the glass handle. Her muscles tensed, preparing to drive the blade through skin, muscle, and bone into his heart. But her hand did not move downward. It began to tremble. A violent, uncontainable tremor seized her arm, spreading from her fingers up through her wrist to her shoulder. The glass needle shook violently in mid-air, casting frantic, flickering shadows against the dark headboard. Ten. A hot, heavy tear escaped Vespera’s eye, trailing down her flushed cheek and slipping off her jaw.

I screamed over the deafening roar of the core. Asher and Kaelen didn't hesitate. They drew their combat blades, slicing their palms open before slamming their handprints into the ancient runes surrounding the pedestal. Zane and Tristan followed instantly, their blood dripping into the interlocking grooves. Five streams of deep crimson blood hit the star-metal conduits. The violent violet light in the room instantly flickered, fighting against the sudden, overwhelming influx of the five prime bloodlines. The agonizing pressure in my chest began to ease as the silver runes on my collarbone ignited once more into a blinding, pure white radiance.