Blood Techniques
1275 Words
The training arena beneath the royal palace was nothing short of awe-inspiring. Hewn from black obsidian stone and reinforced with ancient vampire enchantments, it stretched wider than the throne room above. Crimson torches lined the pillars, casting flickering shadows across the domed ceiling. The floor bore sigils from centuries past—symbols of bloodcraft and combat, forgotten by many, but not by the ones who still bled for the kingdom.
Kenneth stood at the far end of the room, hands behind his back as Malrik had taught him, trying his best not to bounce on the balls of his feet from nervous energy. His brothers stood beside him in a loose arc: Aurelius at the front, sharp and poised like a blade; Darien beside him, calm and calculating; Lucien, ever quiet and unreadable; Sevrin, pale and distant; and Marek, practically vibrating with pent-up aggression.
At the center of the arena stood three figures—each cloaked in the deep crimson of the King’s personal elite. They were not ordinary soldiers. These were the finest warriors the Vampire Kingdom had to offer, each chosen to teach the six Princes of House Valdros.
The first stepped forward, tall and broad with silver-streaked black hair and arms thick with scars.
> “I am Kaedor,” he announced, voice booming like a war drum. “Master of hand-to-hand combat. I will shape your instincts.”
The second, leaner but with eyes like bloodsteel, raised a hand.
> “I am Nyssara,” she said, her voice like velvet lined with daggers. “Blood technique is my domain. You will learn to command your thirst… or be consumed by it.”
The last stood silent, his face hidden behind a half-mask of bone, until Kaedor gestured to him.
> “That is Varic. Weaponsmaster. He speaks little, but he listens to steel—and teaches it to speak for you.”
Kenneth gulped quietly, suddenly aware of how different today felt from his garden playtime with Seraphine.
> “Today,” Nyssara stepped forward again, sharp eyes scanning the line of Princes, “we begin with blood manipulation. The foundation of our race, and the test of every vampire’s soul. Master your blood, and you master power itself.”
Aurelius smirked. Kenneth caught it from the corner of his eye.
> “I’ve been waiting for this,” the firstborn murmured, loud enough for Darien to hear.
> “You say that every time we train,” Darien replied coolly.
> “Because it’s true.”
Nyssara clapped once. Crimson light burst into life above the floor, forming a circle around the Princes.
> “One by one,” she said. “You will step forward and form your blood weapon. Draw it from within. Mold it. Shape it. Show me your will.”
Without waiting to be called, Aurelius stepped forward, the circle pulsing beneath his feet.
He inhaled deeply, eyes flashing. A flicker of blood-red mist rose from the pores of his skin. Slowly, it spiraled into the air, thickening and hardening before forming a jagged, twin-edged blade glowing with violent light. It hovered before him, then snapped into his hand like a loyal hound.
> “Excellent form,” Nyssara said, impressed. “You’ve practiced.”
> “Relentlessly,” Aurelius said, casting a sidelong glance at Kenneth.
Lucien and Darien followed.
Lucien’s blood attack came forth as a sleek whip, fluid and elegant—deadly without fanfare.
Darien, calm as ever, summoned two thin blood-daggers that floated beside his arms. His stance was precise, cold. Controlled.
> “You see that?” Aurelius muttered to Kenneth as Darien returned. “Even my younger brothers wield blood with finesse. Try not to embarrass us.”
Kenneth gave a tiny frown, trying to shake off the nerves.
Sevrin summoned something far stranger—a sphere of condensed blood that floated in front of him like a waiting eye. Nyssara narrowed her gaze.
> “Unrefined… but potent,” she noted. “You see things differently.”
Sevrin merely blinked.
Marek stepped forward next. His blood attack came quickly, violently—a serrated axe that vibrated with too much unstable energy.
> “Too wild,” Nyssara warned. “Tame it, or it will turn on you.”
> “I like it wild,” Marek growled.
Finally, it was Kenneth’s turn.
He stepped forward, heart pounding in his chest. The blood circle beneath his feet flared to life, and the room felt suddenly colder.
> “Close your eyes,” Nyssara instructed. “Feel the blood within you. Do not force it—call to it. Shape it with your will.”
Kenneth inhaled.
He focused.
He felt…
But nothing happened.
He exhaled slowly and tried again. Concentrate. Picture it. Like Malrik taught him. Like stories his mother whispered about knights and heroes. Still… nothing.
Behind him, he could hear Marek snort. Lucien remained silent, but Kenneth could feel Aurelius’s smirk without even looking.
> “Focus,” Nyssara repeated, a bit more firmly. “The blood answers only to the determined.”
Kenneth clenched his fists and tried again—harder. His veins felt like fire. Something stirred.
A flicker of red mist danced around his palm.
Yes.
He pushed harder.
The mist twitched… then dissipated.
> “Oh no,” Aurelius chuckled mockingly. “All those pretty eyes and no bite?”
Kenneth’s eyes snapped open.
> “I’m trying,” he muttered.
> “Try harder,” Aurelius sneered. “Or you’ll be nothing more than a royal pet.”
Before Kenneth could respond, Darien stepped forward.
> “That’s enough,” he told Aurelius. “He’s still learning.”
> “So are we,” Aurelius snapped. “And yet we managed to form a weapon.”
> “That’s not how growth works,” Darien said flatly. “But then again, you’ve never understood patience.”
Aurelius rolled his eyes and stepped back into line. Kenneth remained in the center, breathing heavy from frustration.
Nyssara studied him quietly, then walked forward and crouched beside him.
> “Prince Kenneth,” she said in a much gentler voice, “you are not weak. But your power… it is not eager to be seen. That does not mean it does not exist.”
Kenneth looked up at her. His eyes were glassy, but his pride held.
> “Why is it so hard?” he whispered.
> “Because your path is different,” she answered. “And different paths take time.”
With a graceful movement, she stood and dismissed the circle.
> “That concludes today’s session,” she announced. “Your next trial begins in three days. Dismissed.”
The Princes began to file out, some with pride, others with silence.
Kenneth stayed behind for a moment longer, eyes on his empty hands.
Darien lingered as well.
> “Don’t let him get in your head,” he said quietly, walking up beside Kenneth. “Aurelius needs to feel threatened. You’re doing that just by existing.”
> “I didn’t even summon anything,” Kenneth mumbled.
> “Not today. But soon.” Darien offered a rare half-smile. “And when you do, the rest of us won’t be laughing.”
Kenneth finally nodded, grateful.
He walked slowly out of the arena—determined, if a little bruised inside.
High above, hidden in the archways of the arena, Malrik had watched the entire session in silence. His fingers were folded beneath his chin. His eyes narrowed in thought.
> “Soon,” he murmured. “Just a little longer…”
- Writer
