Assassin's Cerulean Dagger Novels & Stories

There was a glint of light and the soft sound of a blade leaving its scabbard as the woman took out a simple yet beautifully handcrafted dagger. The blade was made out of a silver like glass and curved at the tip. The blade had never seen blood before. The handle was made out of some kind of brass and it was wrapped in a soft, tanned leather. It was well made, it being from one of the best blacksmiths in the land of huskarian.

That would give him an idea of the strength of the other two. What Mane didn’t realize was that the small knife that had been discarded onto the floor was glowing slightly as well. As it drowned in the blood of the dead assassin, the small dagger radiated a red hue. It was not easily noticeable, but it was there. It was clear that this was no ordinary dagger.

Kaelen’s voice roared in my mind—a cry of pure, agonizing devotion. He didn't attack the assassin. He threw his own body over mine. The silver dagger sank deep into Kaelen’s shoulder with a sickening, wet thud. He let out a strangled, guttural whimper as the silver burned into his flesh. His massive black form collapsed against my side, his weight stumbling.

He turned his head slowly, locking his gold-sapphire eyes onto the security camera. A Silence-Weaver detached from the shadows of the ventilation shaft. The assassin raised his rifle, the crosshairs centering on the single, pulsing gold vein now visible on the back of Leo’s neck.

A Were-cat assassin, draped in midnight-blue silk and holding twin curved daggers, dropped from the branches toward Aradaa. "Aradaa, move!" Kaelor lunged. He didn't use the dagger. He used his raw, physical weight. He tackled the assassin mid-air, the two of them crashing into the shallow water with a violent splash. The cat hissed, a sound like steam escaping a pipe, and clawed at Kaelor’s chest. Kaelor didn't flinch. He grabbed the assassin’s throat and squeezed until the sound of snapping cartilage echoed in the silence.

The man who once lived for my breath was now the predator stalking it, his every movement a jagged, lethal promise of my end. We were on the open observation deck of the Spire’s flagship, suspended thousands of feet above the burning Iron Shore. The wind howled around us, tearing at my silk gown and the Sovereign tactical gear that now encased his body. Dante moved with a sickening, mechanical grace, his obsidian arm glowing a sterile, blinding white. He was "Assassin 01," a ghost with no name and no mercy.

These are assassins, wearing the dark leathers and carrying the blessed silver weapons that mark them as specialists in killing their own kind. Lior bleeds from multiple wounds, his curved blade lying several feet away where it was apparently knocked during the initial ambush. The vampire's gold eyes burn with fury and desperation as the hunters close in for what looks like a killing strike. "Kaelen sends his regards," one hunter says conversationally while positioning a silver dagger for a heart strike. "And his regrets that your loyalty proved insufficient to overcome corrupted nature." Lucian doesn't pause to think or plan or consider consequences. The incomplete form just moves, covering

This dagger was capable of overpowering Callum’s powers in her body and she understood it completely. “So this dagger will take your life tonight….just like it had taken Caspian and Nevara’s life,” saying that he shoved the knife towards Amelia’s abdomen, making her squeeze her eyes shut. And then Keagan’s hand was stained with blood.

I said as I gently picked up the knife that had fallen beside me. Before becoming a professional assassin, you must attend several training sessions in order to master all of the techniques that an assassin must know and study, and one of those techniques is that when one area of your body is vulnerable, you must think of another strategy to strike your opponent. "B*tch, don't be too arrogant or you'll end up at Satan's door!" My assailant had laughed at my confidence once more. "Oh please, don't joke about it because you'll regret it, I swear," I said to my assailant, "because you'll be the one to wind up on Satan's doorstep, honey," I said coldly.

He didn’t think this was something he should be holding; but somehow, he knew that this was the key to defeating Alaric. He unwrapped the object to uncover a dagger. It was an interesting dagger made entirely of silver. The handle was maroon with golden swirls, just like everything else in this room. Caleb was sensing a theme. This was what was going to kill Alaric once and for all. “You thought you were clever, breaking into my chambers?” He heard a cruel and dark voice from the doorway.