Anakin Skywalker Dark Side Eyes Novels & Stories

I hiss, my voice dangerously low. “I didn’t say I was above you, unless, of course, that’s what you think? You now directly affect my sister, and she’s marked you, a mark that won’t just go away. All I know is the Rey Carmesí that Hecate has so generously blessed us with holds power that harnesses darkness – you are darkness. What guarantee is it that you won’t go to the dark side when the time comes? How do I know that you won’t drag Kataleya down with you?” He now removes his shades, glaring back at me with those red orbs that make everything heighten around me, muting out even sound, yet the surge of everything else is enhanced.

"Kill me and let's get this over with." He stays silent and keeps looking me deep in the eye with so much hate and anger. Never has he ever looked at me this way. It's so strange, but that's not the only strange thing about his eyes. They look different and that's when I notice his eyes aren't the way they used to be, they're black, like Sean's. No, not like Sean's. They're completely black, every part of his eye. What is this? What is going on? I look away from him to Sean and see it's the same thing, black. Every other person is far away, and I can't possibly see their eyes in the dark, but something is not right. Something's definitely off. What could it be? What's going on?

Her eyes hovered around the vicinity, looking at the dead bodies sprawling on the ground. Hana then narrowed her eyes, before focusing her gaze to that two people. Those two people looked different from one another. One has a bronze skin and dark brown hair, yet possesses a fiery pair of eyes. He is a direct representation of dominance itself. Meanwhile the other one is whitish. A girl that represents solace and peace, like the colour of the blue sky.

The diplomatic party arrived at midday, five wolves from Shadowcrest plus Vesper as lead. She was beautiful. Black fur so dark it looked like liquid shadow, and when she shifted to human form, that impression didn't change. Long black hair, pale skin, and her eyes Violet. Not the normal gold or amber or even blue that most wolves had. Violet, like someone had taken twilight and poured it into her gaze. Every wolf in the courtyard watched her pass. Some with admiration. Some with wariness. All of them affected in their own way. "Steady," Thea murmured beside me. "Keep your shields up. Don't reach for her mind yet."

The witches closed in, their laughter echoing like a chorus of nightmares. Something inside Aqua snapped. A surge of dark energy, unfamiliar and terrifying, welled up within her. She felt her pendant grow hot against her skin, the clear crystal turning black as smoke. The air around her crackled with raw power as she turned back towards the attackers, her fear morphing into a blinding rage.

Even the eyes that were once grey were flashing to a familiar shade of venom green, only they almost appeared like hard emeralds- compared to some Dark Dwellers. “You will not lay a hand on her!” Prince Skye bellowed in anger as he stood up while slamming his hands on the desk, Uther meanwhile had his arms folded while narrowing his eyes at Skye's response. “It was my fault that she slapped me, so do not get involved!” Skye added tersely, his mind now no longer cared that he was showing ‘weakness’ in front of his father. Instead it was filled with the need to protect Anberine.

I demanded, my voice dropping into that ragged, double-toned scrap of my sovereign authority as I forced myself to stand, my knees trembling but locking in place. The commander raised a gloved hand, slowly unlocking the clasps of his silver visor. As he pulled the metal away, my heart stopped. He didn't have the golden eyes of our pack, or the pale blue eyes of the northern outcasts. His eyes were entirely pitch-black, the sclera and pupils fused into a solid, liquid void—the exact same terrifying, bottomless black that Killian’s eyes became when his feral wolf took complete control.

Arms—not his, never his—materialized from the darkness behind her, wrapping around her waist with bruising force, yanking her backward into the void. "Never." The word ripped through the air like tearing silk, like breaking bones. Mykhol's face emerged from shadow like something born from nightmare—all sharp angles and animal fury, fangs bared in a snarl that belonged in a wolf's mouth, not a man's. His eyes blazed that inhuman scarlet, pupils contracted to pinpricks of black rage. His grip on Ana tightened until she gasped, pressing her back against his chest with the desperation of a starving creature that couldn't bear the thought of anyone else's claim.

He’s worse than I remember. And by worse, I mean…everything. Taller. Broader. Power rolling off him in waves so heavy it makes the light flicker, like the sun itself is afraid. His hair is blacker than night, his skin kissed with shadow, his eyes— Gods, his eyes. They used to be silver. Bright, sharp, full of fire. Now they’re molten darkness, a storm swirling with hunger and rage and something far more dangerous than hate. “Elara.”

He wore them as a sign of brutality, a fear tactic that would not work on our Phoenix wolf. His deep crimson skin stretched over muscles that looked capable of tearing through stone. Two enormous obsidian horns swept back from his forehead, their surfaces scarred and pitted from countless battles. A smile curved his lips—cruel, cold, utterly devoid of warmth. But it was his eyes that froze the blood in my veins. Obsidian. Black as his horns, black as the void between stars. Looking into them felt like staring into oblivion itself. He stopped. Those black eyes locked onto Storm.