Azrael's Blade Novels & Stories

One gold. Every person on the battlefield stared in disbelief. Even Seraphine's eyes widened. "Impossible..." Aster whispered. "The Twin Blades." Elyan slowly smiled. "So the prophecy was incomplete." The red-eyed creature staggered backward. Fear finally appeared in its burning crimson eyes. "No... It cannot be." Seraphine looked at Kael and Rhydian with quiet pride. "It is time." Kael gripped the silver blade. Rhydian raised the golden one. The two swords began to resonate, filling the battlefield with blinding light.

Each stab avoided my critical organs. I begged him to let me go, but he said, "Didn't you say you would always be with me, my darling?" I tried to flee when he went to the bathroom, but he caught me. He forced me to the balcony while brandishing his knife; I left a vivid trail of blood from the living room to the balcony. Underneath the moonlight, he stared at my right hand like a starved beast. Ultimately, he swung the blade at me, stabbing me in the heart. Then, he shoved me off the balcony of our apartment, which was on the 20th floor.

He stepped inside the demon’s swing, pivoted sharply— And drove his blade upward beneath the general’s armor. The steel stopped just short of Kharvek’s throat. Silence fell instantly. The duel was over. Kharvek froze. Adrian held the blade steady. “Yield,” Adrian said quietly. The demon’s jaw tightened. But he finally lowered his weapon. “I yield.” Adrian stepped back. The court erupted again—some cheering, others murmuring in disbelief. High above them, Vaelreth stood slowly from his throne.

Azrael, meanwhile, commanded the very fabric of death itself, his sword slicing through the air with an otherworldly glow. The duel raged on, the combatants exchanging blows that shook the earth and sent shockwaves through the skies. Belzebub's sword flashed in the moonlight, striking true time and again, but Azrael's mastery over death allowed him to cheat fate itself. He parried each blow with an almost imperceptible gesture, his eyes fixed on Magdalene's soul with an unyielding gaze.

Blakely Azrael’s a God. He couldn’t die from a Wendigo, right? Right? I held onto that thought as I plunged deeper into the forest, down the weathered path until I exploded into the clearing once more. Silver blood coated the ground, forming a trail to where Azrael stood. One arm was slung over his stomach where it continued to flow freely, while the other wielded a blade. Dark liquid oozed from several gashes on the Wendigo’s body, but it didn’t seem to feel them. Giving myself no time to think, I raised the dagger above my head and charged at the creature.

"And family doesn't let you take one of them without a fight." The bonds explode. All five of them. Mine to my four mates. Mine to Luna. Connecting. Intertwining. Creating something new. A shield of pure combined power. It slams into Lilith. She flies backward. Crashes into her demon army. "Now!" Erebus shouts. "While she's down! Break the contract!" "How?" I scream. "With this." Azrael produces a blade. Black. Ancient. Terrifying. "The Soul Splitter. It can cut contracts written in blood. But it requires payment."

Rylan's sneer was venomous as he stepped forward. "This ends tonight." I drew my blade. "We decide that." The air was electric. Rylan raised his hand. Out of the darkness stepped Azrael — a giant form cloaked in shadow and power, eyes burning with ancient fire. Rylan's smile widened. "Meet the real storm at my command." Fear twisted in my stomach. Azrael's gaze locked with mine — centuries of fury and black magic seething within. The war was no longer steel and blood. It was destiny.

She shook her head in response to Blade’s questioning stare and tightened her lips to show how much she disapproved of it. I was left confused as to why Blade was requiring the old lady’s permission to reveal whatever was bothering him to me. I placed my other hand on our intertwined hands. “Please tell me, I am tired of being left in the dark. You just asked me to trust you and I do, why can’t you trust me?” His eyes met mine again and he leaned down to kiss my palm. “I trust you.” “Then tell me.” The old lady was seething inwards but Blade ignored her. “I have a condition.” He began. “I… I am somehow cursed.”

Her wings emerge slowly from her back, unfolding with painful elegance behind her in massive arcs of silver and midnight blue, each feather threaded with magic that catches the dim light filtering through the trees like living starlight. They are breathtaking. Not delicate. Not fragile. Powerful. Ancient. Different than before. Beautiful in a way that almost doesn’t seem real. And then I see the scars. Thin silver lines cut through sections of the wings, old injuries that healed badly, damage that should never have touched something so extraordinary. My chest tightens instantly. Someone hurt her. Repeatedly. Nyxara notices where my attention lands and instinctively shifts, trying to pull the