Blade Of Northarch 소설 & 이야기

The next moment, Norvin waved his hand, and a dazzling golden sword fell into his palm. It was the Swallows’ Infernal Blade. “Cloud Piercer!” Norvin shouted and used the Swallows’ ultimate skill, the final move of the Swallow’s Thirteen Blades, aiming to kill Andrius. Swallow’s Thirteen Blades... Andrius could not help but recall the battle that day. Norvin was indeed unparalleled when he wielded the Infernal Blade.

I stepped forward, my pulse quickening as I realized where that gleam came from. The MirrorBlade. I had hidden it in my safe, buried behind layers of wards and locks. But now, the safe itself seemed to glow faintly, a strange brightness spilling from the narrow crack as I opened it. The blade’s edge glowed fiercely, and strangely the light was angled in a precise direction, pointing north. Even in the dim of the study, the glow was unwavering, unnatural. I lifted it carefully. The moment I took it out of the safe, the faint glow intensified, forcing me to narrow my eyes. Amusement stirred despite the tension.

I heard the click before I saw the opening—a hidden compartment built into the wall, older than the house itself. She drew out something long and wrapped in thick, cracked leather. “What is that?” I asked, stepping closer. She peeled the cover away slowly, revealing a blade unlike anything I’d ever seen. Not silver. Not steel. The metal shone like it has life—pale gray veined with deep blue, like frozen lightning trapped in iron. The handle was bound in blackened hide, carved with ancient runes. “Nóttskjære,” she whispered. “The Night Cutter.”

I added, trying to sound reassuring. But that was a lie. A tool. Nyxara is the first blade I’ll pull when the palace barrier cracks open. She is the only one who might slow me…Nyxara, reborn, the warrior everyone whispers about. She will be my opening strike. Her fall will tear the King’s world open. Raul’s right-hand shifted uncomfortably, scanning the room like a man who just noticed the noose.

The strange ancient language came to life. "The blade of light has a long double-edged blade forged from silver. The blade is fixed on a rich hilt of shinning gold metal with a smooth grip made of bluish crystal. A set of protection runes is carved into the blade near the spine. It was crafted by mage Calwivu, in the Aengmor Forest. It was crafted to kill the immortals. After the battle of Valmir, only two blades have been known in existence. One was kept in a secret location by the were council and the other one belonged to the Vampire elders...." "Vampires!" Harry stopped reading and rushed to inform his Alpha.

They weren’t just trading me—they were using my sister as a leash, binding me in chains stronger than steel. The sound of trumpets cut through the hall. The herald’s voice rang clear: “Alpha Aric Veylor of the North has arrived!” The air shifted instantly. The atmosphere grew taut with unease, as though even the walls recoiled. My chest tightened. Every story I’d ever heard about the North’s Alpha spilled into my mind: tales of a ruthless warrior, a beast of blood and shadow, a man who turned rivers red with the blood of his enemies. I was trembling as I walked downstairs to meet him.

I pressed my fingers to her name and whispered a vow with my breathless tongue. I would not vanish. I left the library with more weight in my chest, but less doubt in my steps. I passed through the armory, past polished steel and ceremonial weapons meant for show, not war. But in the corner, half-covered in shadows, I found a blade that hadn’t been touched in decades. A thin rapier, forged in obsidian and silver, its handle wrapped in a faded violet cloth. I lifted it carefully, and it hummed in my grip like it recognized something ancient in me. I strapped it beneath my cloak without a word. If I couldn’t scream, I would let this blade speak.

This blade had tasted the blood of countless foes and had never once failed me. Next, my dagger. It was shorter and sleeker than the sword, designed for close combat. The blade was curved slightly, its edge razor-sharp. The handle, crafted from bone and reinforced with steel, fit perfectly in my grip. On the far side of the rack hung my bow. Its limbs were made from dark wood, reinforced with silver inlays that shimmered like moonlight. The bowstring was taut and sturdy, capable of unleashing arrows with deadly precision. Quivers of arrows, each fletched with black feathers, stood ready beside it.

The clearing glowed with the twinkling fairy lights that adorned every tree, and the torches that had been lit along the path to illuminate the participants' way. Brand stood in front of the Yggdrasil feeling like his throat was being constricted by a stiff collar rather than a soft tunic. He wore a bearskin over one shoulder to symbolize strength and protection. He was also glad of its warmth as the first snows had started to fall just in the last week. He huffed as Brodi clapped him on the shoulder. "Nervous yet?" he asked with a smile, adjusting the leather hauberk that held his broadsword across his back and the belt at his waist where the sheath for his ceremonial dagger rested.

We thought we had killed them all. Rivers of blood soaked the ground and flowed between the trees in the forest south of Scarlet Moon. Torn and broken bodies littered our path as we retreated to the safety of the only pack Sebastian trusted with those most precious to him. We limped through the gates, bloody and battle weary after taking on at least five men a piece. Unbeknownst to us at the time, one man survived, Blue Blade, named for the unique and deadly weapon he wields. He is the one who sends rogues to the border, taunting me, letting me know he is still out there, waiting for me to blink so he can strike.