Time has no meaning as I write these things down. They are for those who find me after death, maybe my daughter maybe a grandchild. If a stranger finds these things they'll gain more than they bargained for. This is my grimoire, my book of spells I gather throughout my life.
Stumbling upon this was no mere accident for you but never the less you have. I hope you are prepared for a story of something sinister and something dark. The things in here are written in a manner of a journal and a book of shadows. For the Book is both.
Do not trouble yourselves with most of them. Unless you were born into the dark world of Blood Magic, do not attempt most of these spells.
Bloed closed the book. For now he would have to remember the spells he cast so long ago that caused him to age slowly. Some called him a vampire, others immortal but both were wrong. He was doing something far more sinister than either. It was blood magic, a highly taboo and mysterious artform. For now he needed to find his missing daughter. The girl had stumbled upon something he didn't want her to and now he was at a cross-roads. Kill the girl, end his line, or let her live with fear of him. He'd have to return to this later.
