Witcher Elder Blood Novels & Stories

Drink the kin-blood. The Elder raises the obsidian knife. Not towards me. Towards his own palm. "By blood of his blood, we call the curse! By the chains of the First Alpha, we break the defiler’s hold!" He slices. Deep. Blood wells, dark as oil in the torchlight. It doesn’t drip. It flows, defying gravity, snaking towards the intricate patterns carved into the altar floor. The other Kin chant. A guttural, rhythmic sound that vibrates the hollow air, resonates in the marrow of my bones. The blood-magic circle ignites. Not fire. A sickly, pulsing crimson light.

Tyler was already lying there, eyes closed, breathing deeply, and completely unmoving. The Elder took some sort of instrument from his waist belt – Kat recognized it right away as a silver knife and knew exactly what it represented – and he walked over to Tyler, standing over him, and carefully positioned the blade against Tyler’s chest. Kat tried not to stare too much at the blood oozing out of the wound; Tyler had always been pale, almost sickly, ever since they met. His face showed a mixture of fear and anticipation and a slight grimace of pain when the Elder pressed on the blade a bit harder, making small cuts.

I declared, without a hint of argument or hesitation. “If that is so, I order you to squeeze blood into this bowl,” Elder Syria, commanded and presented a black bowl to my face. I reached out a thumb and Laurence did the honors by slashing it and pressing my palm to the bowl, my blood dropping into the water. There was spirit in the bowl, and a light red color. I perceived the scent of blood as it came to my nostrils, and sent Davos a glance to which he nodded and I knew his blood too was inside.

The elder tried to retreat, but his soul felt mired in a swamp, and he was unable to move an inch. His agonized screams echoed through the forest as his soul writhed in torment, subjected to unimaginable pain. "Who are you? How could you know such bizarre techniques?!" the elder wailed as his voice quivered with terror. Chase's expression remained icy. "That's my secret. You're not worthy of knowing." With a flick of his finger, a sliver-thin blade of sword light sliced through the air with a deadly edge. The blade severed one of the elder's legs, sending blood spraying in all directions. The elder let out a chilling scream, and his cries were filled with despair.

“He sensed the awakening,” My fingers tightened around my teacup. “How?” “Ancient bloodlines recognize each other.” We all turned to see. Elder Mara’s standing at the doorway. The elderly woman ambled in slowly carrying several old scrolls. Since the awakening, Elder Mara had developed an unsettling habit of appearing out of nowhere. Sometimes I thought she was spying on us. She came and sat across from me. “Lucien Draven comes from one of the oldest Alpha bloodlines still remaining,” she said.

I growled. I didn't run. I stepped forward, my hand catching his wrist. The white light flared, blinding everyone in the waste. "Caleb!" I screamed. "WAKE UP!" From a distance, a roar erupted that shook the earth. It wasn't a wolf. It wasn't a man. It was the sound of a Blood-Bind snapping. The Elder’s eyes went wide. "What have you done?" "I've given him back his soul," I said, the white light consuming us both. "Now, run."

Elder Corvin. Samantha blinked. “Elder? What are you doing out here?” The old man didn’t respond. His white eyes glowed faintly, unnaturally. He raised his hand, pointing at the fallen wolf “The prophecy…” he rasped. “The Goddess stirs again. The blood moon is coming. And when it does—” “Elder!” Cade’s voice rang out, shifting back into human form as he strode forward. “You shouldn’t be here!” Corvin’s mouth twisted into a strange smile. “The time has come. The time has come.”

A thin line of blood appeared, the scent of iron mixing with the herbs. Kaelen didn’t flinch. Not even slightly. The elder then turned to me. My breath caught. Kaelen’s grip on my other hand tightened slightly, steadying me. “Do not fear,” the elder said quietly. I nodded, forcing my hand forward. The blade kissed my skin…sharp, quick. A small sting spread across my palm, and a drop of blood welled up. The elder guided both our hands over the silver bowl. “Let what is yours become shared.”

Alice whispered, her voice trembling. Elara hesitated, her fingers brushing the pendant at her throat, her eyes distant with a sadness that made Alice’s chest ache. “Because I’ve been where you are,” she said, her voice low, almost a whisper. “Torn between worlds, between hearts.” She stepped closer, her hand hovering near Alice’s, not touching but close enough to feel the warmth. “I was born under a blood moon, Alice. My mother was a healer, my father a rogue wolf. They thought they could live between worlds, but the packs came for them. Crimson Moon burned our village when I was twelve, left me with nothing but this.” She held up her palm, revealing a faint scar, jagged like a claw mark. “