Blackness Marine Novels & Stories

scar on his chest was no longer burning, but had become… pitch black, like a true “hollow.” He used his last strength. “Boss!” Marcus rushed over. “The ship…” Jack’s voice was weak, “Alia…can it… be repaired?” “The engine room…is completely destroyed…” Alia’s voice was choked with sobs, “We…we’re sinking…” The “Black Mary” was slowly sinking. Just then, a muffled, thunderous engine roar echoed from the horizon. It wasn't the "Deepsea Hound," nor was it a warship. It was a… a colossal, unimaginably black… nuclear-powered submarine.

A heavy, biting blizzard tore down from the highest mountain peaks, carrying the sharp scent of oncoming sleet and the ancient, calcified frost of the northern ranges. Through the shifting gray curtains of the snowstorm, the vanguard of the Abyssal Purebloods emerged like a fleet of drifting phantoms. Nearly eighty heavy war-galleons, their massive, deep-bellied hulls constructed from reinforced whalebone and dark black-iron plating, glided through the narrow channels of the reef in absolute, disciplined silence. They did not carry the standard glowing lanterns of the trade guilds or the silver insignias of the Eastern ports. Their sails were completely blacked out, matted with soot to absor

"I’m going to deliver a gift." Two hours later, the white expanse of the Icelandic sea was disrupted by the silent ascent of a Black Rose submarine. From its deck, a modified Black Hawk, painted in a matte charcoal that swallowed the light, lifted into the air. It tore through the freezing fog, a shadow among shadows, heading straight for the heart of the enemy blockade.

Salt. Bad odor. And darkness that claims common sense. In the middle of a Mediterranean coast that is not recorded on any nautical chart, a rusty steel shipping container is tossed about by the tidal waves. Inside, in a knee-deep pool of seawater seeping through welded cracks, a man nearly rots but refuses to die. Julian Blackwood.

The Black Sea answered with thirty-foot swells, stacked and furious. “Hold the lines!” Vane roared over the wind, massive claws clamped to the phantom-wood railing like it might escape. Something is moving beneath us, Jace’s voice sliced through the mind-link, sharp and terribly analytical. Massive heat signatures. They’re not ships. I hadn’t even finished forming a command when the ocean erupted on our starboard side, violent like a strike delivered from below. A beast the size of a mountain broke the surface. A Leviathan of Blood—an undead deep-sea nightmare, built like a monstrous hybrid of kraken and leviathan, rotting armored hide stitched together by glowing, dark-red veins of blood-ma

The sand beneath my feet felt suddenly unstable, like the whole island might tilt and slide into the sea. Sergei spat something in Russian to his men. Two of them moved closer to the waterline, weapons trained on the approaching boats. The rest kept their aim split between us and Vivienne. Caelum’s hand brushed mine again — a silent signal. Be ready. The first boat rounded the headland, sleek and dark, no running lights. Then a second. Then a third. They weren’t Bratva. These were different — matte black, heavily modified, the kind of vessels that belonged to people who operated in the shadows between governments and criminals. My stomach dropped.

"Um-" "Oh, that cut on your face.. I'll be right back. Don't you move, now." Ariel ran off into her home, leaving Michael and Ernest outside. "You need to make this quick. Anyone can come back here at any moment." Michael stated. "So? What's the big deal? I just wanted to tell her thank you." "Yeah sure. The black family with literally no white people here wouldn't think it's weird that we're here. We'd be better off leaving-"

“You want more? I still have another bottle and one more pack.” I held them out to her. She shook her head and offered a shy smile. “No… those are for you. But thank you.” Then silence settled between us once more. She turned back to the sea, her eyes fixed on the endless darkness stretching before us. The sound of the waves filled the space where words could not. After a while, I spoke gently. “You seem troubled.” She didn’t respond. “You can tell me if you want. They say it’s easier to share your problems with someone you don’t know.”

Amansinaya exclaimed. 'How did it went like this?' you might ask. Well, it started with an argument. (Author: Let us turn the hands of time and show how it all began.) "I said we should continue searching beneath the sea." Amansinaya suggested as I stood up. "It is possible that she's out there." She continued. I nodded, she's right about that. Asherah's a mermaid so there's a high possibility that she's in the cerulean and vast sea.

His nostrils flared, inhaling her scent frantically to ensure the strange black blood hadn't contaminated her. "Marcus!" Dominic roared into the communication device built into the beach perimeter line. Alpha Marcus’s voice answered instantly, thick with panic. Sire! The global tracking grid just went completely dark over the South Pacific coordinates! We are experiencing a total satellite blackout. An unauthorised, massive thermal signature is rising from the deep trenches just five miles off your shore! Dominic’s jawline hardened into granite, his grey eyes turning entirely, terrifyingly gold. He looked out at the dark, rolling horizon of the Pacific Ocean.