Black Knight Ghost Novels & Stories

In the moonlight, a woman in a white lace dress was kneeling on the stone steps of the chapel, her face buried in her hands, her shoulders trembling. She had no feet. Below her dress, there was only a swirling black mist. "I see her." Lorenzo let out a low whistle. "Two years ago, Marco put her in the ground right there. Her ashes are buried under the rose bushes behind the chapel." I didn't stop, walking straight toward the chapel. Giovanni froze behind me but didn't dare to call out. As I reached the bottom of the steps, the female ghost's head snapped up. She lunged at me, her face a sickly pale green, her eye sockets empty black pits.

And now, when we met again, I was already bones in the ground—and she had become a powerful, influential billionaire. But Nicky was sick. And she needed me. So she came looking for me—the man she hated with every fiber of her being—and unleashed her vengeance on everyone I loved. But I was already dead. Suddenly, Adeline's cold voice cut through my thoughts, pulling me back. "If Samuel won't show himself, I'll just have to turn up the pressure." My stilled heart lurched. The next instant, Adeline gave the order. Her men swarmed my elderly father and hanged him alive—right there, in front of my grave.

The cursed Blackthorn Manor loomed under the full moon like something out of a nightmare. I had come prepared as a professional ghost hunter. Cameras, EVP recorders, sage, and salt. At twenty-six, I had cleared dozens of haunted locations, but this one felt different from the moment I stepped inside. The heavy oak door slammed shut behind me on its own. “Alright,” I said to the empty hall. “Show yourself.”

The heavy rear door opened, and a towering, broad-shouldered figure stepped out, bypassing the umbrella-wielding valets entirely. He wore a flawless, custom-tailored charcoal three-piece suit that clung to an immense, lethal frame. His dark hair was lightly dusted with rain, and as he stepped into the dim glow of the alley's light, his eyes caught the reflection. Molten silver. My breath hitched in my throat. Every muscle in my body locked up in terror. Ronan Blackthorne. He was a ghost story told to misbehaving pups, the undisputed king of Nocturne City’s underworld, and a man whose vast empire kept the entire Alpha Council under his thumb. But worse than his reputation was his bloodline co

Successes don’t really interest me right now, but fuck it if I am not eager to see a little ray of sunshine in all of this matter somehow. “Scoundrel? And the police hasn’t taken care of them?” I ask knowing just like Edmond Raye, this spoilt limb will become a problem in the future too. “Well; they are the living to their name. The Black Ghost club. No one has ever seen their faces, always with horrible looking mask which I will admit, is scary. The police has somehow or should I say conveniently avoid them?” Dante says adding more flesh to what he had previously said. My blood is boiling on the inside. I’m angry. I want to take my gun and go on a rampage, to kill everyone of those motherfu

"State your name and business!" "I am the Shadow Knight," he replied, letting power resonate through the words. "I seek Lord Blackmoor's heir. We share common enemies." The scouts exchanged glances. One wheeled his mount, galloping back toward the keep. The others formed a loose circle, blessed crossbows trained on him but fingers carefully off triggers. "You're the one from the stories," another scout said. "The knight who fell to darkness. Who slaughtered an entire Inquisition unit at the crossroads."

Gideon stayed calm, swung the broken blade, and a white arc of energy shot upward. The black and white blades clashed and shattered on impact. Tristan's next move followed immediately. "The eighth style of the 13 Ghost Blades! Nether's Pass!" The strike carried a chilling gale. The sound of wailing ghosts and howling spirits echoed. As it neared, Gideon noticed countless skulls swirling in the wind. They were only shadows, but enough to make one's scalp crawl. They were clawing and snarling, like demons escaping from hell. "Those are party tricks. The heavenly flames will burn through all that flashy nonsense."

I began to chant as I felt the blood of Ares mixing with my own until I could feel his power coursing through my veins. I lift my hand and outstretched it until my long black fingernail was technically touching the barrier around the clearing. I watch as the tip of my nails began to bend until it melt. I smirked before retracting my hand. "Ester darling, I see you are not happy that I am visiting you today." I spoke and summoned one of my crows. This one name was Ghost, he had a liking for lost souls that lingered on earth.He could spot them quickly, something I have used him for occasionally when I want to suck some of the souls power. There is nothing more delicious than a wandering soul.

Even the Black Knights’ skills could not counter the sheer numbers as the Goblins climbed over their fallen comrades to reach the riders. As the battle continued, Randey was puzzled by the appearance of a dozen figures that were clearly not Goblins. They were clad in grey robes, with deep hoods that hid their features. They formed a semi-circle behind the Goblin company, but they appeared to be observing dispassionately. That is until one of the Grenyaar broke free of the Goblins on one side. One of the figures raised a hand and a bright flash travelled from the upraised hand to the Knight. The Knight fell back after being stricken, and was once again overcome by Goblin fighters. Another Kni