Vampire Survivors Grimoire Novels & Stories

“Nothing special. Just a plain library. I already sensed something’s odd going on about her, so I sneaked upstairs out of curiosity and took this at least.” Takumi held his chin. It’s either those marks weren’t there before or Tomoya can’t see them at all with his plain vision. “So, what’s with that book then?” Scott asked, pointing the book with his lips. “It’s a grimoire, containing Shane’s family secrets. At least that’s what I’ve understood, so far,” Tomoya placed the book on the center table and opened it to the first page to where an inverted pentagram is drawn with droplets of blood covering the topmost part of it.

Inside was a velvet-wrapped ledger bound in faded red leather. The Ember Grimoire. It was a chronicle—half memoir, half confession—written in delicate script by Eleanor Montrose. Isabelle’s missing ancestor. “The flame is a memory. A power buried in blood and bone. The Keepers are not chosen,they are awakened. And the price of awakening is always a life.” Isabelle’s heart pounded. She turned the pages faster, until a symbol caught her eye: the intertwined keys. And below it, scrawled in desperate ink:

“You don’t even know me.” “You keep saving me ,” I say. “That’s enough for tonight .” The stained-glass windows explode inward . Omaras (face shredded from my claws, still bleeding) and Sorrel drop through, followed by twenty elite vampires in black armor. “Found you,” Omaras growls, touching his ruined cheek. “This face is permanent, hybrid. I’m going to wear yours next.” Adrian steps in front of me, blade out . “Over my dead body .”

“Hell no. I can't get used to a new Pack. The Vulcan Pack remains the only pack I can boast of. It's the only pack I am comfortable in, which is why I really want to do everything within my powers to make sure that the Alpha comes back to the pack.” “I'm glad you agree to this. Though, I'm still distressed. I mean, we have no idea about the Vampires and where their base truly is. How am I supposed to find out where they took him?” “For this, I think we would need the powers from an old grimoire. Though I don't have that.” “What? What is a grimoire in the first place?” “A grimoire is a book of witches. I used to have one, but over the years, I lost mine. And ever since then, I haven't had the

Davina’s POV They were all looking at me like I just spoke in a different language or something. “Her what?” asked Jude with raised eyebrows and a small smirk I felt like he was really trying to hide. “Her….grimoire. You know like… a spell book where you write down all the spells you know how to do so that people like me can benefit from that. It’s called a grimoire… or at least that’s what the people from the vampire diaries call it” I explained awkwardly.

💉Tiara p.o.v 💉 It's time for the first prey to be sacrificed. I took off my bracelet and turn to half a bat and half of my vampiress's face, and disappeared into the thin air. I got to his house and decided to play some tricks on him, I started changing the light in his sitting room to different colours. I can see how scary he was, I used my necromancy power to break his plates and anything breakable in his kitchen at least he will die today, even when I finish draining his blood I will still demolish his apartment so as not to leave any traces for investigation.

“Gemma’s locking down the borders. No one gets in or out until we find the source.” The source. My stomach twisted. I already knew. My mother’s grimoire had a warning scrawled in her hand, Moonwater turned black is not nature’s doing. It’s a curse wearing poison’s face. “I can fix this,” I said before I could stop myself. Damon turned sharply. “Ivy..” “I said I can fix it.” I was already moving toward the apothecary tent. My hands shook as I pulled the ancient grimoire from my satchel.

Already ahead of him. I pulled open the carved wooden cabinet near the fireplace. Inside, wrapped in velvet and silence, sat the old tools: five glass vials, each filled with blood thick as ink; a polished obsidian dagger; and an iron-bound grimoire so old, the leather cover hummed with dormant magic. “Help me clear the room,” I said.

“Come on, grimoire. Come to me.” For a second, nothing happened until I felt a pull from my hand touching the painting. A vortex opened, and my hand went through it. I dug in deeper until I felt something and yanked my hand out quickly. There it was. Mirja’s family grimoire. It was thick but surprisingly felt very light. As my hands traveled across the leather, I heard it. Voices coming from the grimoire. Little promises of great power swirled inside my head, and I had to open it. When I did, I was shocked.

Without thinking I rushed forward, surprising him as I lowered my shoulder into his stomach and drove him off his feet, sending us both crashing into the next row of graves. I may have been older in vampire years than this underling but I was a bit weaker. We wrestled on the ground with each other, claws scraping and teeth biting. The vicious underling came close to killing me when he pulled back and rammed his fist toward my chest, aiming for my heart. But I was to fast for him and capitalized on his mistake by rolling away from him and coming to my feet, back handing him across the face and hitting him so hard that he flipped over backwards onto his stomach. Only thinking of my survival I