What Book Is After Blood Of Olympus Novels & Stories

Everyone starts to attack as I drop down to my hands and knees. Blood started to spill from my mouth as I try to breathe. I watch the snow beneath me quickly turn red from the blood pouring from the hole in my chest. Unable to breathe, I look over the fighting as my body quickly grown weak from the blood loss. Seeing the vampire prince knocking the pack warriors around I try to get up, but fall down into the cold bloody snow, unable to hold my weak body up.

I slipped behind a broken section of wall, pressing myself flat against the stone. The footsteps passed. Two guards. Running. Running. That never happens. Guards don’t run. Not here. Not unless something is very wrong. I waited. Counted slowly in my head. Then I stepped out again. But this time… I didn’t go deeper. I turned back. Because something told me— Whatever was happening tonight… I wasn’t ready for it. Thorne POV The first wolf came from the left. Fast. Silent. Wrong move. I twisted just as it lunged, my claws tearing through its throat mid-air. Blood sprayed across my chest as its body crashed beside me.

“This isn’t the original one.” “What do you mean?” “The original book disappeared decades ago.” “So... this is just a copy?” “One of the few remaining actually.” He opened the book slowly. Most of its pages had faded with time. Some had been torn away entirely. Others were covered with stains that looked disturbingly like dried blood. Serafina felt an odd ache in her chest. As though she had seen this book before. But still, it feels impossible for her. Darius turned several pages. “This kingdom was called Blood Moon.”

At the top, in letters larger than the rest, were the words: The Prophecy of the Gold Blood. Aurora leaned forward. Her eyes moved quickly across the page, drinking in as much as she could. When darkness swallows the land of wolves and the pack bleeds from within, a gold-blooded one shall rise. Born of shadow and sacrifice, marked by the moon herself. She shall carry within her the fire to rebuild or the power to destroy. The pack shall not survive without her. And she shall not survive without the truth... Aurora's mouth went dry. She read it again. Then a third time.

I hugged the her immediately “You came,” I whispered. “You know I would.” She answered. And in her hands, wrapped carefully was the book. She unwrapped it and my breath caught. My mother didn’t speak, she just simply let the cloth fall away. The air charged more. The pressure could be felt. Kael had a horrified face staring at the book. It was entwined in vines— Blood vines. The raw power from the book pressed against my skin, my lungs, my bones—everywhere.

At the center of the cover lies a raised symbol: a drop of blood, intricately detailed, as if about to trickle down the cover, appearing almost alive. The clasp of the book is a masterpiece of brutality and symbolism. Made of heavy metal, it is adorned with tiny skulls and bones, reminders of the lethal power contained within the tome. The clasp seems to demand a blood pact to be opened, with a small blade embedded, ready to make the necessary cut. When I finally open the Bloodbound Codex, I feel the temperature around me drop abruptly, as though the very air had been sucked into the book. The atmosphere becomes denser, heavier, as if the essence of the book were absorbing the vitality aroun

“It’s never over.” She turned toward the shattered archway where dawn spilled into the snow. “But it’s our turn to write what comes next.” Zevran fell into step beside her, their hands brushing once—no claim, no confession, just alignment. Behind them, the Court whispered. Ahead of them, the mountains waited. And beneath them, far below, the heart of the world dreamed of a Black Moon rising—and the woman who might finally teach it mercy.

That was the proof I needed, but it quickly became clear that my omega was not done. “I wanted to make sure, so when she left, I snuck into the tower room and there was a book.” A visible shiver ran down the back of her spine as tears filled her eyes. “It was a book of blood magic, and it was open on a spell to take a life!” The omega burst into tears and I closed the gap between us in the blink of an eye.

Not as penance, but as devotion. Author’s Note If you’ve reached the end of 'The Blood Opera', thank you for walking these shadowed halls with Lyria. Book One is about beginnings, but not the comforting kind. It is about the moment a voice changes, a hunger wakes, and the world that once made sense no longer fits the shape of who you are becoming. Lyria’s journey has only just begun. The choices she’s made so far were shaped by survival, by love, by fear but soon she will be asked something far more difficult: not what she is, but who she is willing to be.

“This is an ancient word, translated over centuries but roughly means…war.” War?! Of everything in the world, it had to be the one thing she hated. Violence can never and will never be a part of her life or her child’s life. The instructor observed the cold, intensity behind her blue eyes and tried putting her mind at rest. “See…your markings extend further which says a lot more than we know.” “Where did you find these books?” Elira attempted to change the topic. The man took a seat on the edge of the table, and gently brushed his fingers on their thick covers, staring at them like the most precious thing in the world.