All Black The Necrosword Novels & Stories

Her wings splay out, exposing her vulnerable chest. I partially shift, claws ripping from my fingers, and stab them deep into her heart. She dies. Messily. Screaming. I hear the same death wail from the others—only three left now. Looks like Nate and Rowen handled theirs. Black goo covers my hands. I grimace. I’m going to have to boil this off later. Then I spot Lamashtu #3 reaching for my other sword. “Oh, hell no.” She grabs it—and throws it. Far. Great.

Dante sneered, pulling a long, elegant sword from a sheath at his waist. The blade was made of dark black metal, pulsing with the same sickly green light as the hunting hounds. "This city belongs to the Council, Calista. Your father died because he forgot his place. Now it is your turn." He lunged again, the black sword sliced through the gray fog with a high-pitched whistle. I did not try to block the sword with my small knife. I used my doctor's brain, watching his feet. Just as the blade came down toward my neck, I dropped flat onto my stomach and let the black steel cut through the empty air above my hair.

The Icy Deep ​POV: Alpha Kaelen Blackwood ​Thorne’s grip on my throat was like a vise forged of cold iron and dark magic. The vampire thrall wheezed, dark, necrotic blood bubbling over his lips and spilling onto my forearm. His crimson eyes glowed with a sick, triumphant light, entirely unbothered by the silver sword I had just driven completely through his heart.

Others shift in their seats, nerves frayed by what's missing. Ahead and slightly left of the raised platform, that is where we stand. Not hidden, not overlooked - seen clearly. Stiff as stone, Noah fills the tall chair, his frame tense, each angle saying how badly he wants a sword instead of silence. Black clothes him head to toe, nothing soft about it. Only break in the dark: a silver clasp fastened at his neck, shaped like the Wingknight beast, hammered fresh by hands from the northlands. He does not seem humble here. More like victory made still, seated against its will.

💉Tiara p.o.v 💉 It's time for the first prey to be sacrificed. I took off my bracelet and turn to half a bat and half of my vampiress's face, and disappeared into the thin air. I got to his house and decided to play some tricks on him, I started changing the light in his sitting room to different colours. I can see how scary he was, I used my necromancy power to break his plates and anything breakable in his kitchen at least he will die today, even when I finish draining his blood I will still demolish his apartment so as not to leave any traces for investigation.

Outside in the dark forest, the sound of heavy iron blades drawing from leather sheaths echoes through the trees, followed immediately by the sickening sound of wet flesh tearing. "Hollis!" I gasp, snapping my head up as the scent of fresh blood floods through the carriage window. "Stay down!" Hollis roars, his golden wolf-eyes flaring instantly as he unsheathes a massive iron hunting broadsword from beneath the carriage bench. Before he can push open the carriage door, a heavy, iron-shod boot slams against the timber frame, shattering the wooden lock into splinters. The door flies open, revealing a towering warrior cloaked in black wolf fur, a brutal, jagged silver mask covering the lower h

I asked again. “I’m you.” The voice said. “I’m your wolf. I’m Nyx.” My wolf is a massive black wolf? And I don’t mean just the fur. Her eyes are completely black, the pads of her paws are black, her claws are black. Even her teeth are black. Not from decay either. She is the most solid black wolf I have ever seen. She is more massive and blacker than Aiden’s wolf. This doesn’t make any sense; I’m not an alpha. I thought only alphas got black wolves. “Nyx? How did you get in these chains? How long have you been here?”

the killer said while licking the blood of Yman's father that was staining on the killer's sword. "This is, great! More soul...more soul...more soul for this greedy sword of mine. Hahahaha!" He was spreading his hands as he said it, and the sword was oozing with black energy. On the hilt of the sword, the monster's mouth was carved at the tip of it. And fangs were visible at the boundary of blade and hilt. Yman felt the chill coming from the sword. And a sinister feeling was pressuring him that made him unable to run and rooted his feet to where he was standing.

The runes ignited, threads of light weaving up her arms and into the Mark. The air thickened. The ground trembled. And from the shadows at the edge of the room, something stirred — not an Echo, but something worse. Figures began to form — twisted silhouettes of men and beasts, remnants of those the Black Moon had touched. They moved like smoke and screamed like memory. Zevran’s blade flashed. “Here we go again.” He fought without hesitation, cutting through shadows that reformed as fast as he struck them. Each one that fell fed the light around Kaelira’s spell, fueling her strength.

“Stand back. All of you.” Zadicus ordered seriously, extending his out as a black sword summoned, into Zadicus’ hands. The purest black sword with a ruby affixed on the handle. Maroon flames emit from it slightly, extremely thin but longer than an average sword. Asserting 'His' dominance. “There it is, the extinct sword- Crimson Malevolence.” Daphne whispered, gulping hard when Zadicus summoned his sword. To say they were flabbergasted would be an understatement. It was the darkest sword in history; saying it holds souls in them and its bearer can hear screams of the souls trapped in it.