Black Lightning Red Novels & Stories

We didn't let the darkness win. END OF VOLUME ONE

I reached for my water, my eyes tracking the way his throat bobbed when he swallowed. "Is that a crime?" "You don't eat here," he rasped, finally lifting his head. Those green eyes were blown out, the pupils swallowing the iris until they were almost entirely black. "You eat... there." He gave a sign vaguely toward the center of the room where the team was staring at us like we had both grown second heads. "I eat where I want," I replied. I took a bite of my sandwich, watching him. "Why are you sitting in the dark? You like being a ghost?"

Midnight arrived with a sound like a tolling bell. The joint forces of the Blackwood Pack and the Shadow Claws stood at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. The air was thick with the scent of ozone and the low-frequency vibration of the Creator’s magic. The Silver Peaks were no longer purple; they were a solid, light-absorbing black. Lyra stood at the front of the line, her obsidian blade glowing with a violent, flickering violet light. Silas stood beside her, his gold-and-sapphire aura a steady, protective shield against the chilling wind.

After he had received the instructions, the man drifted from the wall and moved to plain sight. Ibekwe's heartbeat increased as he saw the white and black paint in different parts of the man's eyes as he came closer to him. The white paint was in his right eye. The black paint was in his left eye. He was dressed in Osisiakalaka's attire and he was chanting a song that Ibekwe had only heard from the mouth of Osisiakalaka. The man that looked like Osisiakalaka ran quickly and stopped. Fear gripped Ibekwe. What will happen now? Why did he stop? Again, the man drove his painted eyes, moving from the desperation that hung on Ibekwe's head to the burden of being disturbed by his own mind that hung

Not since his wings started to grow out. They were almost fully grown and just as my father had predicted, his magnificent wings were black. What made them more mesmerizing was the hint of deep red right around the edges. Even though it was just a touch, the bold red which blended with the black made his wings look exquisite. They were almost as large as mine too. He was going to be a powerful hybrid. Just like his father. What is most certain is that Zephyr Arion was going to grow up to be a heart breaker too.

It was a cold freezing night, the loud chattering sound of rain and the succeeding roaring thunder gave such an earful noise inside the residence. In the middle of the room was a thirteen-year-old Arché—the only son of the family was busy doing his homework while listening to music to avoid the disturbance of the noise outside. Thirty minutes passed when a very loud thunder echoed along with the shutting down of the lights. Now, everything was dark due to the blackout. Arché reached for his phone and turned on the flashlight.

Synth and Drago did the same thing, and then rogues and rebels emerged from the shadows, including the prisoners who had escaped from the Hidden Valley. As the thunder strikes, the Alphas growled once more, expressing their power and rage. The clear skies with stars are no longer visible because they have been replaced by dark clouds and lightning. The warriors attacked their opponents right on cue after another lightning strike. Then, as soon as their fangs had reached their flesh, rain began to fall from the sky, intensifying their rage and desire to kill.

As the Golden Wing Eagles erupted, they waved their claws as the lightning raged, shrouding the men in black who were charging toward Heather. 'What' 'The eagles can even make lightning attacks?' For a moment, the few men in black could not react in time and got shrouded by the lightning, and they cried out in pain. Quickly, Daiking and Yakin howled as they slashed their claws. A few of the men in black, who were struck by lightning, bled and were torn apart, dying on the spot instantly.

This time, however, the outcome was different. I suddenly heard a laugh, a cruel and mocking laugh, that echoed in the night. I turned and saw her, standing on the other side of the lake. She was wearing a black cloak and a hood that covered her face, except for her eyes. Her eyes were red, like blood, and they glowed with malice. She raised her hand, and I saw a flash of light. A bolt of lightning struck the ground near me, sending sparks and dirt flying. I jumped back, barely avoiding the blast.

Blue. Not the blue of the sky or ocean, nor anything earthly. This is the blue of lightning—of raw power given form—of divinity taking shape in flesh that struggles to contain it. It’s different from that night in the forest when her eyes transformed or the flashes he had seen staring back at her in the mirror. Her hair shifts as well. It starts at the roots; black fades away, replaced by silver that spreads and becomes an incandescent white—pure and luminous, as if it generates its own light.