sangromancy puppetting

The blood dripping from the angel's wounds calls to him. He knows it calls to them, too; he knows his grandfather is also a talented blood mage.

Sorin's sorting through the possibilities faster than he can consciously follow, his instincts a sieve for his waking mind. If a ritual like this one was enough to convert his immediate family to vampirism, then this one . . .

Well, it was simple, wasn't it? If you controlled a man's blood, you controlled him. If you controlled an angel's blood, you controlled her. Granted, you'd have to be an elder vampire to handle that much power, but . . . if you drank that blood, made it a part of you, then you might well control angels, too. Assuming you lived.

The idea is a simple one; to put it into practice less so. Sigarda being one of the oldest angels did much to help. But they'd need something else, something to bind the blood to its drinkers, something just as old and powerful. Ideally crafted of Moonsilver—he's never found a finer vessel for magical energy. Even Eldrazi weren't immune.

Something like the Moonsilver Key Arlinn and the others were looking for.

The Moonsilver Key Olivia now held in her hands, looking for all the world like an offering bowl. The Sungold lock was much the same; together, the two formed a sphere. Sorin watches in horror as his grandfather joins his hands to hers. Together, they hold the key to domination.

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EPISODE 3: FOREVER HOLD YOUR PEACE