Blade Of Northarch Novels & Stories

“Yearnings of the past lie in memories, but yearnings of the present are boundless. The first blade: the thoughts of longing!” “Endless time comes to an end, but this regret endures forevermore. The second blade: the pain of separation!” ... Norvin wielded the sword while reciting the blade’s key principles. His voice was clear and precise, and his actions were swift and sharp. In just ten seconds, seven astonishing sword energies enveloped Andrius from various angles. The sword energy surged like a wave, rapidly approaching. Killing intent howled in the biting cold wind.

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.”

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.

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.

Nicolai yelled at him but he just shrugged. "Don't worry, I won't fall for a friend." He then said. "Better be! Because I already have someone I like." Nicolai answered while smiling. "Oh? Who is it then?" "Can't tell you." "It's Jeon. I know." He said sparingly. Again, Nicolai is coughing again. Jeon, is one of their close friend, a Korean national like Nicolai. Nicolai is basically half blood tho. "H-How did you know?"

“She’s inside and there is another man!” “Wait here.” Omar replied, helping the she-wolf to rest against the only wall not covered in blood. Omar moved calmly, pulling a hunting knife from his coat pocket. The way the blade winked wickedly in the pale light sent a chill down Chloe’s spine. She decided there and then she had seen enough of weapons and murder today and turned away from the door, gulping in air. Her throat burned and the bitter taste of bile still haunted Chloe’s mouth. Above her the clouds were breaking and golden sunlight was now filtering through, casting long shadows between the trees. It was too beautiful for the gruesome scene.

I stepped out onto the bridge of the ridge, a single figure in a blood-red gown and obsidian-veined skin, standing alone against a legion. The High Inquisitor at the head of the army raised his staff, his face pale with disbelief. "Surrender the girl!" he screamed across the valley. "Surrender the abomination!" I raised my star-silver arm, the violet light swirling into a lethal, concentrated sphere at my fingertips. "I am the North," I whispered, the words carrying across the snow as if carried by the mountain wind itself. "And you are trespassing". With a flick of my wrist, the War of the Eclipse officially began with a blast of violet fire that turned the morning sky into a permanent twil

The entire mountain groaned beneath the strain, and the ground trembled so violently that broken pillars collapsed into the abyss surrounding the ancient sanctuary. A crushing force pressed against my chest, making every breath feel heavier than the last. The fragment sleeping inside my blood responded instantly, surging through my veins with blazing silver energy that spread beneath my skin. The mark behind my shoulder burned with such intensity that I instinctively reached toward it, only for the Blade of Ardyn to blaze brighter in my grasp. The weapon hummed with ancient recognition, its silver flames climbing higher until they illuminated the shadows surrounding Kael and me.

But sitting directly on top of a map of the Northern borders was a weapon. It was a long, wickedly sharp hunting dagger. The blade was forged from dark northern steel, and the hilt was crafted from polished, heavy bone. I stared at it. For a long time, I just looked at the reflection of the firelight dancing across the deadly edge of the blade. Slowly, I raised my right hand. The thick white bandages made my fingers clumsy, and the deep purple bruises beneath the cotton throbbed with a sickening rhythm. I reached out and wrapped my hand around the bone hilt.