Blackness Marine Novels & Stories

she said, still chopping away. I gulped at that. I couldn’t really wrap my head around the size of this place. “Why is it called Black Cove,” I asked, since she seemed so agreeable to answering questions. “Oh you’ll see one day. We have a large coastline on the southwest end, it’s stunning. White sandy beaches and clear water. I haven’t been in awhile but I’d love to take the kids in the summer. The tale is that there was a big human pirate ship called “The Black” that sank half a mile off shore,” she said, as she moved around.

The Salt Dock Breach The planks of Pier Seven groaned under our advance, the waterlogged fir timbers slick with a greasy lacquer of brine, fish scales, and old diesel oil. We moved like shadows against the rotting walls of the storage sheds, our canvas duster coats absorbing the horizontal prickle of the coastal downpour. Below the structure, the black ocean thrashed against the barnacle-crusted pilings, a heavy, rhythmic sloshing that filled the foggy air with the stench of decaying kelp. Six of our elite Obsidian Phalanx scouts flanked us in a wide, loose sweep, their matte-black armor completely invisible against the gray maritime mist.

The marina was a symphony of clinking rigging and the low, expensive hum of engines. The Obsidian Star lived up to its name, a massive, predatory silhouette of black steel and glass that dwarfed the surrounding white cruisers. As they stepped onto the polished teak deck, the air was already thick with the scent of sea salt, expensive sunblock, and chilled alcohol.

The torrential rain hammered against the vantablack deck of the Acheron, feeling less like water and more like a barrage of icy shrapnel. The sheer, terrifying scale of the stealth ship became apparent as Dante and Elara were marched forward, flanked by half a dozen Vanguard mercenaries whose matte-black armor seemed to absorb the meager light of the storm. The vessel possessed no superstructure, no visible bridge, and no exterior lighting; it was a sleek, geometric nightmare designed to slice through the ocean while remaining entirely invisible to radar. The deafening roar of its massive, submerged propulsion system vibrated through Dante’s bruised ribs with every step he took across the no

"I've always been curious about who chose that name. Why Black Queen?" Picking up the knife on the table, I twirl it around in my hand "Because my heart is as black as coal. Have you seen the American show that goes by 'Once Upon a Time?' the evil queen who coincidentally goes by Regina too has a black heart. The difference between us is that I'm not trying to be good. I won't hesitate to stick this knife in your throat and watch as you take your last breath" "Why does that turn me on?"

Forty-eight hours. The countdown to the end of the world began not with a roar, but with the synchronized thrumming of a massive, joint-force armada crossing the Arctic Circle. It was a sight that should not exist in nature. A fleet of state-of-the-art, nuclear-powered icebreakers from the Blackwood Corporation, painted in matte-black tactical paint, plowed through the twenty-foot-thick glacial ice, creating a path of dark water. Behind them sailed the Crimson Court’s ancient, reinforced war galleons, their black sails bearing the silver crest of the bleeding bat, looking like ghost ships emerging from the endless fog.

There it was—an unmistakable outline that sent chills down her spine: a rival pirate vessel, its black flag snapping proudly in the rising wind, a blood-red skull etched into the fabric—a symbol of doom that heralded chaos and violence. The crew reacted as if electrified, a chorus of panic and determination flooding the air around her. “It’s Blackbeard’s ship!” another crew member shouted, eyes wide as fear laced through their voice. The notorious captain was infamous for his ruthless tactics, and the bloodlust that accompanied his crew was legendary. “We’re outnumbered!”

Swarm beasts surge immediate—carapace clicking silent, mouths yawning wide, eyes like broken stars. Navy SEALs drop in seconds later—black ops choppers cloaked, fast-roping down, rifles spitting void-piercing rounds. Marines storm from subway entrances—armored columns pushing up, heavy weapons glowing with integrated runes. USSF classified black ops melt from shadows—stealth suits shimmering, plasma blades igniting blue. **SEAL Captain (comms, calm):** “Storm Queen, grid locked. Black ops on flanks. Lances hot—waiting your mark.”

It turned Black. It wasn't the black of night; it was the black of an eclipse. A massive, hexagonal shadow began to blot out the sun, a vessel so vast that its leading edge was over the Atlantic while its trailing edge still brushed the Great Lakes. This was the Andromeda Prime—the flagship of the "True Owner."

And yeah, it wasn’t hard to spot which one was his. The marina was stuffed with gleaming white yachts, all lined up like Botoxed pageant queens. Names were scrawled across their shiny asses in delicate navy script. Greyson, Andromeda, and, God help me, Kraken My Heart. I was genuinely offended on behalf of the sea. Then I saw his. It didn’t bob or glitter. It brooded.