Wolfenstein Old Blood Chapters Novels & Stories

"And it led me to you." Her pulse kicked. "You're a hunter?" "Something like that." The wind shifted, carrying a metallic scent. Blood. Kael's expression changed. "We're not alone." Before Seraphina could speak, shadows broke through the mist-five shapes, crawling low, their eyes glowing white. Wraiths. Demon wraiths. The kind that tore souls from the living. She swung her blade as one lunged at her. Blue fire burst from the runes, cutting it clean in half. Another came from behind, but Kael moved faster-his hand flared red, and a wave of heat exploded from his palm, burning the creature to ash.

"Then? Tell me what happened next, hurry!" "Okay, so after that, I found this book about vaewolves, I'm assuming that you already know what that is, then I found out about the blood moon where it'll come out. I've waited for it, just to find out that it's actually me, I'm a vaewolf, the dangerous and monstrous creature was me" I explained to her that left her dumbfounded. She wasn't able to speak for a minute, still stunned by my revelations and she seems to not know how to speak herself up.

The book screamed when Elder Thorne opened it. Not with sound, but with the dry crack of a spine that had not been touched in decades. Dust rose into the thin beam of candlelight, swirling like restless spirits. He paused, listening to the quiet halls beyond the archive chamber. Frostveil slept, unaware that its oldest secrets were being dragged back into breath. “Let this be worth the trouble,” he muttered. The page trembled slightly beneath his fingers. Royal Bloodlines of the Northern Wolves.

The darkness swallowed them whole. ☠️ End of Chapter 16

Oblivion took hold of me, and a chamber of ice encased my swollen heart. ** The story continues in Book 2: The Bloodstone Vampire. Out December 1st 2020. Thank you for reading SRWW – I hope you’ve enjoyed it as much as I have!**

That kind of stillness only came after blood. Then I smelled it. Not just wolf blood. Vampire blood. Old. Powerful. My jaw clenched. “Shit.” I landed hard in the yard of the pack house—and chaos greeted me like a damn funeral. Wolves were scattered, some lying lifeless in the dirt, others groaning as they were helped up by their kin. Blood stained the grass in ugly smears. Death hung in the air like fog. And right at the centre, Ralph stood speaking with Aaron. My brows furrowed. Aaron came too?

I grabbed a match from the mantle and struck it. “What are you doing?” Silas roared, lunging for me. I dropped the match. The gilt-edged pages, soaked in the dry rot of twenty years, caught instantly. The secrets of the Ares empire—the murders, the bribes, the “Conditioning”—erupted into a wall of orange flame. “I’m clearing the site,” I said. Silas tackled me, the weight of him slamming me into the mahogany desk. We hit the floor, a tangle of limbs and fury. I felt the detonator fly from his hand, skidding across the floor toward the vault.

Rossa clenched her fingers tightly. “Their sharp teeth sank deep into my flesh. They locked their jaws and bit down so hard that fresh blood poured out. Then they jerked their heads and tore chunks of my flesh away. It felt even more horrifying than being skinned alive. I don't know... I can't even explain it properly with words.” A chill instantly ran down Robert's spine. The horrifying image formed in his mind, making his stomach churn with nausea and dread. “But it's fine. It doesn't matter anymore. I'm already used to enduring pain like this in your mansion.”

Chapter 93 – The Black Veil The black blood seeped from the walls like a wound that refused to heal. It pooled on the floor, spreading outward in unnatural patterns that seemed alive, pulsing faintly as if it were breathing. Each droplet shimmered with an eerie darkness, reflecting not light but shadow—a void within a void. The air grew heavier, pressing down on them like a storm cloud refusing to break. Whispers began to echo through the chamber, fragmented sentences that slithered into their minds uninvited.

Werewolves. That was the Ashford legacy. She hadn’t understood it until she was old enough to read through the family’s old journals: heavy leather-bound books with cramped writing. The stories were always the same, The Ashfords hunting wolves. The Ashfords wiping out entire packs. The Ashfords fighting alphas under blood moons. Some of them even traded their blood for silver steel. That was her family’s pride. And her prison.