Blackfire One Step Novels & Stories

Fluid was rapidly pooling beneath Belle's feet and running down her legs. For one long, stunned moment—Neither Ethan nor Park moved. Both men simply stared. Completely frozen. ****😳😳****

In the third step, while reciting the spell to become a black wolf: "Twist the bones and bend the back. Trim me of murdered boy fat. Give me fur, a tail black as black. Claws, fangs, make me a wolf, werewolf. Sharpen my teeth, the taste of blood is in my mouth when I bite down, ripping out their throat. Intestines are being torn apart; they scream, sounds like "Die!" but they don't. Make them live again. Again, and I will bite them again. Hearts stop beating, blood spills, stains my paws - color of spilled blood, fresh blood, and I want more. I can't stop drinking. I'll never be full; I'll never feel full again. I'm thirsty, burning up inside."

Emboldened by this newfound strength, she took another step forward, feeling a surge of exhilaration course through her veins. The flames hissed and flickered, seemingly reluctant to let her pass, but Sable pressed on, determined to prove herself worthy. With each step, she felt the heat diminish ever so slightly, as if the fire itself recognized her resolve. The path began to widen, revealing a clear route through the inferno.

My jaw was so tight the muscles ached. "I am the matter that displaces the air." "Then let us see if your cells can withstand the pressure." He raised his hand. He did not fire a beam of energy. He unleashed a kinetic displacement. Black Fire. It was not a thermal combustion. It was a corrupted, oily distortion of space that crackled with red static. It surged toward me, smelling of scorched protein and biological decay. My skin began to crawl, the hair on my arms standing up as the charge in the air intensified.

A snort of laughter escaped Fynn, “With so many witnesses on the scene and clear surveillance footage, I’d love to see him argue his way out of that one!” “Then leave this matter to me. Send me his communicator number, and I'll set it up.” Noah’s eyes curved. “And when I say 'I', I mean you, Blackie. You, as an advanced AI should be capable of using my communicator to send a couple of messages with the right timing, no?” “Pfft, of course,” Blackie puffed up his virtual chest in pride, “That's basic! Even a toaster in the Bureau can do something as simple as that! What beat should I set it to?”

And slowly, something starts to come out of the ashes. A black creature with black fur and red eyes. No bigger than any of the logs. Limping out of the brick fireplace and letting out small coughs like a little child. It's a Rogue. A baby. A pup.

Instead of the usual Code Red for danger, we use Code Grey. I glance at Sandy, my eyes apologetic. She raises an eyebrow, already smirking. “Go on,” she nudges. “Save your baby boy from the clutches of that witch.” I smile at her, muttering a quick thanks, and dash out the door, fingers flying over the keyboard. What’s wrong?

My body doesn't know the steps. Yellow eyes appear between the trees. One pair. Then two. Then three. They're not Blackwood wolves. The scent is wrong. Sharp. Cold. Hostile. The largest one steps forward. Dark gray fur. Massive shoulders. Eyes fixed on me like I'm prey. I take a step back. Then another. "I don't want trouble," I whisper. The words sound pathetic even to me.

"I will only be gone a minute." The old wolf didn't make a sound. She just kept her dark brown eyes locked onto my face. Her body looked like a decaying tree, but those eyes still carried the exact same fierce, brilliant vibrance I remembered from my childhood. The moment Carol’s boots started thumping up the wooden staircase, Mother Blackmaw blinked her eyelids three times in rapid succession. I knew how the system worked—with that heavy machine choking her throat, she had to use her eyes to pass her thoughts.