Amber Sword Novels & Stories

"Michael, you're the eldest apprentice. I've seen your swordsmanship, and this sword will suit you well. Its name is Whispering Breeze. I hope you can advance in your sword skills." "Thank you, Sage Violet!" Michael accepted the sword with both hands, unable to contain his joy. "Max, you're the second apprentice. You usually use a knife, right? Amethyst Edge is for you." "Amethyst Edge?" Max was practically bouncing with excitement. "Thank you, Sage Violet! Thank you so much!" There was no need to explain how much martial artists cherished their weapons. He used both swords and knives, but the dagger suited him perfectly. "Alistair!" Violet called, her tone shifting as she turned to him.

Eryndor's Shadowing dagger seemed to dance in the moonlight, its dark blade slicing through the air with a haunting screee-ksss. Each strike landed with a thud-thwack-thoom, sending tremors through the troop's warriors. The troop's hearts raced as the violent zing-ting-zap of clashing daggers filled the field. The savages of warriors, fueled by fury and loyalty, clashed in a frenzy of arms and teeth. The ground grew slick with blood, the earthy smell mingling with the metallic tang of steel. Jack Wolf stood firm, his Moon-whisper spear shining with a soft, ethereal light. He parried Eryndor's strikes with a precision born of desperation, his movements a blur of speed and strength.

Amber asked, setting down her wine glass. "Yes!" Alexander replied, producing a pair of silver gloves and handing them to his wife. Amber, accustomed to receiving gifts, was pleasantly surprised by the gloves. She put them on, marveling at how they felt like a second skin. "Do you like them?" Alexander asked, observing her reaction closely. "Yes, I love them. Are these meant to be weapons?" Amber moved her fingers, her eyes sparkling with delight. "They are. I also have a sword for you, but we can't bring it out here," whispered Alexander, a hint of mystery in his tone.

She took a deep breath and opened it gently. Inside the box laid an ornate weapon, no longer than five feet. From a quick look, Cassana could tell the handle was made of obsidian. A fine carving of wreathe with the shape of willow leaves twisted around the handle up to its arms. The upper and lower limbs, made of either holly or cedar, extended out from the handle to form an exquisite symmetrical arc that curved on its ends. A string made of sinew fiber stretched from one groove to the other, pulling the wood into shape, while seemingly emanating an ineffable hum.

She was so used to him always doing the negotiations, she had fallen silent by virtue of habit. “Um, I, I would like to have the Amber Bow,” she said, her voice dripping with uncertainty. “Would you really?” Chuckled Papa Bois, raising his thick grey eyebrows. It was the first time he had so much as cracked a smile since they had met him. He seemed amused by Cory. “Yes, I need it. Very much! I…my friends have the Vermillion Sword and the Crimson Axe,” she explained. “And you do not wish to be left out?” Wondered Papa Bois aloud.

Moonstone accents adorned his gauntlets, greaves, and chest plate, pulsating with magical energy that resonated. In his hand, he wielded a sword forged from pure moonstone, its blade glowing softly with an inner light. The hilt was embellished with intricate patterns in Phaikón Árgyron resembling celestial constellations, further enhancing its mystical allure. As he brandished the sword, it seemed to hum with power.

Seolurrie informed Hunter Hale, while pointing her finger at the back of the hunters. "Sure--" "Seolurrie!" Hunter Hale and Seolurrie turned towards wgere the voice came from. Mr. Ambrose was jogging to their direction holding the crystalized short sword that flew earlier when it got threwn away by the dark magic. "You forgot this...," Mr. Ambrose handed the pair of short sword in one hand the thrusted a pair of scabbard. "... and this, you run around always holding the short swords in your hand."

The Ambaram She didn’t expect what she saw next as she gawked at the scene spellbound and breathless. Her initial fears of it being one of Henry’s men subsidize. The insecurities of getting discovered in the heart of the Ambaram as the princess of Alvar but not Arnold’s woman desisted. No potential harm will come on her in this presence as it didn’t come to haunt but heal the wounds that are carved deeply in her soul. Stupefied, she saw him moving with a fluidity that might put the gentle strokes of the silent river to shame. His sword was a completely different case. The sharp edges cut through the air with ferocity causing the invisible element to swish and scream in anxiousness. The point

I tossed the blanket aside and stood. Staggering, I moved to the edge of the window frame and stared at what they were doing in the yard. Archer was holding the ugliest sword I’d ever seen. The blade was thin and long, a dull black, like it didn’t even have an edge. The hilt was rough, leather and some material I couldn’t place. Was this really the super sword that supposedly came out of that shell? I was skeptical, but when I saw the excitement in Archer’s eyes, I realized this wasn’t simple at all.

Caleb's eyes flashed like a sword's age while his aura intensified with a rumble. He glanced at his black greatsword which was inscribed with the words Dharmic Cutter! Sil Crawford had given it to him when he left Calebton, and Sil told him to wield it only after the Guardian couldn't be wielded anymore. And just before, Shar's Rain of Swords shattered the Guardian, so he took out the Dharmic Cutter! "This really suits me, Elder Sil… You really know me best!" Caleb growled under his breath and slashed forward!