World Painted Blood Slayer Novels & Stories

My blood wasn't just liquid anymore; it was a Vocal Frequency. “Identify,” the mountain groaned, the sound echoing in the hollows of my bones. “I am Darlene,” I roared, my eyes turning a liquid gold that defied the darkness. “Daughter of the North, Slayer of the Architect, and the Last Mistake the West ever made.” The obsidian gates didn't swing open; they Dissolved into a swarm of black stardust, allowing us passage into the Great Hall of the Sovereigns.

I believe people can read this as a novel but in reality the author just wants to expose their readers to the monsters they see in other worlds. The title 'Desire for thirst' was inspired from my personal experience of writing this series. The main character in Desire for thirst is the werewolf which murdered my mom. For every novel, I make some particular things to specify from each book like the manner of killing. Likewise, the manner I used in Desire for thirst is man in Balck clothing slashing his victims throat after cutting out their tongue. i got shocked after seeing the similar manner of killing in the news. Was it only a coincidence or... i couldn't even come up with any ways to thi

Across from him, was me. Or rather, a future version of me, cloaked in silver flame, eyes glowing like twin stars. And behind me... the Slade family. Helena with her staff ablaze, Magnus wielding twin swords, the brothers bloodied but standing strong. We were at war, and the world was breaking. Then the vision shattered, I gasped and bolted upright, covered in cold sweat. What could that mean? That Cain was going to wage another war— a fiercer one on us?

A memory of how she looked while she still lives with her father flashed in her mind, now, she looked prettier and healthier. She smiled but it faded all of a sudden, images of people mangled and lying. Pictures of the world entirely drenched in red. Bloodstained ruins , bloodied people, bloody mountain of corpse, bloodstained land. Even the skies and clouds were dyed in a frighteningly dense shade of blood. The bloodstained ruins were the halls of a castle, the bloodied corpses were made up of the pack members; some that she was familiar with and others that she has never met. The pool of blood flowed like a river.

— The Elders answered again in perfect unison, > “None shall hide. None shall flee. The blood remembers.” Elder Nyra came forth. Tall, pale as frost, her hair long and white. She carried with her a chalice carved from the skull of a saint, the liquid within so black it seemed to drink the torchlight. Her words were colder than Cassian’s and sharper than Seraphine’s and all Elder’s voices. > “Blood calls to blood, and mark to mark. The painter is chosen, but she is not yet claimed. Her blood sings, though she knows not the song.

Then… herself. “You think you wear it, little wolf,” the reflection said. “But it wears you.” She blinked — and the vision was gone. “Don’t start with ghosts tonight,” she whispered, voice steady but breaking inside. “I made enough of my own.” Downstairs — The War Table Cassian briefed Luca and Dante on the fallout. Governments were collapsing. Economies frozen. The Veil’s survivors were either in hiding or surrendering. Yet a new movement was rising — a cult calling themselves The Children of Bloodlight.

"I'm a girl who wants the killing to stop. But if we don't act now, there will be no sun to go back to." ​The woman stood and looked at her people. "I am Lyra. If you can hold the shield, we will provide the focus. We are the discarded blood of two worlds, but together, we are the strength of the earth." The mountain groaned. High above, the sound of metal grinding against stone told them the High Circle’s weapon had arrived. The Colossus was a machine of divine magic, designed to crush entire cities under its weight.

His two guards immediately stepped up, shifting into snarling gray-furred wolves, their fangs dripping saliva. Daniel didn't stand idle. He raised his silver pistol, aiming directly between the eyes of one of the wolves. "Take one more step, and your brains will decorate the rocks behind you." Revira, still kneeling in the shallow water, clutching Ardan, stared at the scene in horror. She thought they were safe. It turned out they had only moved from one battlefield to another. And this time, the enemy was Rakar's own kind. "Stop this madness!" Eldric's voice boomed, full of the authority of an Elder. "Vorlag! Do you think this is the right time to incite bloodshed in front of the sacred riv

I heard gasps, a sword being unsheathed, someone stepping forward. But he raised a hand, effectively holding them back He didn't strike back. And when I looked into his eyes, I didn't see triumph. I saw something else. Pity. Because I hadn't meant to hit his heart. I hadn't meant to kill him. His blood splattered across my hands, and I stumbled to the ground. My body twitched on the floor, my skin burning with a feverish heat I couldn't understand. Something ancient inside me fought to the forefront. My wolf.

And a vision slammed into her mind with terrifying force. She was standing under a massive silver moon. Wolves howled around her, but their bodies were made of light, not flesh. They circled her, whispering in a language she somehow understood. “The Bloodborn must awaken,” the voices said. “The darkness is rising.” The vision shifted. She saw a shadowed figure cloaked in black, standing over a burning village. Wolves lay dead around him. The figure lifted a weapon forged of black steel. Then he turned. And Kane saw his face.