Troll's Blood Dark And Darker Novels & Stories

He fell back to the ground with me on top; in retaliation for what he had done to me, I scratched his neck - the first thing I could sink my nails into - then leapt up to my feet. A single drop of blood fell to the floor from my broken scar, and the most animalistic growl I had ever heard rippled out of my own chest. I spun to the stairs in a sprint, hoping to the Goddess that no one had heard the commotion and would be waiting to take me down. “IRWIN!” Omari yelled after me, as I made it down a couple of steps. Something compelled me to look back at him.

“However, the Fangs didn't manage to become stealth like the Reds had. In just one night, the spirits had appeared in the form of black angels. They were angry and refused to help the Fangs and, instead, allowed the essence of the realm of death to enter the souls of the Fangs people. “That essence darkened the poor men's blood, eroded their fangs and snatched away their speed on par with the Bats. They wake up in a state like ordinary people; black blood and does not have the privileges of the Red groups. Feeling ashamed and guilty, the Fang declared to the Order of Security that they could not help. The Reds comfort and mourn for them.

When he struggled to his feet, black liquid—corrupted blood began to seep from his eyes, nose, and mouth. "What have you done?" he gasped, his voice barely recognisable. "Reclaimed what was stolen," I answered, my voice carrying a dual resonance as Star spoke through me. "Blood freely given always trumps blood forcibly taken." Black corruption spread across Thomas's skin as the stolen blood was purged from his system. Without its power, the dark ritual began to collapse, and the magic he had harnessed turned against him. "This isn't over," he wheezed, stumbling toward the exit. "My followers will—"

The church knew this too but because of the new law… their unlawful and wicked operation had to be done even more secretly. The old vampire council also knew how hard it'd be for their kind to adapt to that shitty mixture, so they secretly created "The Blood Vessel." Simply put, black market human blood. But unlike, the wicked ways of man, Vampires didn't hunt humans or coerce them with vampire magic…they simply recruited willing humans who wanted to serve vampires as their blood slaves. So this is where I come in… Saratan Credi, the stupid human girl with a death wish.

The trail of blood and the burnt down buildings around the central square added to the gloom of the darkest night that have ever happened to the peaceful-loving Blood Wolves clan. The sounds of bodies scraping the ground seems more prominent as the blessed land quieted down with the last bouts of killings to those member of the Blood Wolves clan that have managed to escape to the edge of their lands but were unable to leave due to their intense loyalty. Soran curled down on the rough ground of the dark tunnel as he tried to clutch at the soil with his already mangled hands. The honest-looking man is now wearing a twisted expression full of frustration and grief.

He didn't want to open up and more taunts. 'It is a crack, I'll grant you that. But cracks lead to falls. Ivy is not good for holding up walls, only destroying them. And choking the life from others.' It began to fade, and Lloud heard signs of life behind him as the stillness began to thaw. 'Just ask Nathaniel. Blood of the innocent is engrained on his hands. Such beautiful chaos. Even if I cannot hold the souls of purity, I can still consume their entrails and sup upon their sweet blood. As I will with you...'

I exclaimed with deep hatred. After that the man in the darkness laughed again at my words then ordered the person that was holding my daughter Luna on her hair. Before I even knew it, the person slitted Luna's throat making all her blood splatter on my face. Hot liquid was immediately traveled through my senses like it was going to make me insane. "You're a fool Levi." My body jolted from that nightmare I just had that felt real. My heart can't help but to beat louder and faster by the event that I just saw. Huge beads of sweats are already forming on my forehead because of the nervousness that I felt with that dream.

Like saying it out loud is its own kind of relief. "Don't talk," I say. I put my hands on him. The Moonblood knows what to do. I don't have to direct it or manage it or be afraid of it. It moves through me the way it has been waiting to move — not forced, not pushed, simply allowed. It finds the powder's trace in his blood the way light finds the edges of things in a dark room. Not by force. By nature. By the simple fact that where this kind of light goes, the things that hide in darkness cannot stay hidden.

I shut my eyes, but the sounds, wet thuds, choked screams, bones cracking, burned into me. My stomach churned, bile rising, but I couldn’t look away for long. His power wasn’t just wolf; it was something else, something darker, like he’d been forged in blood and shadow. He shifted back, naked and blood-smeared, his tanned skin glistening under the moonlight. Almost at the same time, he dressed up in another robe handed to him, so fast. Someone tossed him a napkin, and he wiped his hands and mouth, the cloth staining red.

And the darkness erupted again— a second wave, stronger, sharper, slicing through the air. The brute disintegrated. Not into dust. Into gory shadows. Body parts splattered everywhere across the ground with darkened blood and screams erupted across the field now. “She’s not wolf!” “That’s darkness!” A third brute lunged toward the guards. I lifted my hand. And for a split second, the world dimmed. Darkness spiraled from my fingers, wrapping the brute in a living shadow that burned and twisted before bursting outward into nothingness. The brute fell dead.