Blink Dagger Novels & Stories

I turned my sight back to the task in my hand. Suddenly my knuckle hit something in between the files.My hand still for a moment then quickly lifted a file . Under it was an old dagger with red cloth wrapped around its blade.The head of the dagger was the shape of a lion with an open mouth like it was roaring.I got up and unwrapped the red silk cloth. There was engraving on the edges of the blade. The only thing was left to complete the ritual was fire .I went to pick up Knox slacks.He usually keeps a lighter with him . I swiftly pulled the lighter out of his pocket and walked towards Knox .

Now, only power spoke. Gloria knelt first, laying a talon-shaped blade across her knees. Its hilt was carved from bone that pulsed faintly in the darkness, like a heartbeat echoing through the ground. The air grew colder around her, coiling like serpents, and her lips moved without sound. The frost crawling along her skin wasn’t entirely natural; it was the blade calling to her, the spirits whispering their obedience.

I whispered, kneeling by the river and trailing my fingers along the water's surface. “ You just couldn’t stay dead, could you?” I opened my satchel and pulled out the obsidian dagger. Hand-forged, energy-conductive and lethal even to immortals. The blade gleamed under the moonlight. This wasn’t for stabbing. Not yet. If I stab her, she’s not here for me to eat.

She drew the Blackthorn dagger. The creature lunged. Instinct took over. She sidestepped at the last second, turning with the motion. The dagger sliced across the Shadow Fang's shoulder. Silver light erupted from the wound. The beast howled in agony. Instead of blood, black smoke poured from the cut. It stumbled backward. Confusion filled Nova's eyes. "I hurt it." Kieran called from behind the barrier. "The blade carries Keeper magic!" The Shadow Fang glared at the glowing wound. Hatred twisted its features.

“Yes, although I've never seen a blade like this one.” “It looks like that because it's made of steel blended with hemlock ash and wolfsbane,” she explained. “You can touch the blade without fear, but be careful not to cut yourself. Even the shallowest cuts done by this dagger remain unhealed for a long time. The deeper cuts are quite lethal, even for the most powerful shifters.” When I stared at the dagger for more than several seconds, she leaned over and narrowed her eyes at me. “Are you sure you know how to use it?”

Zayn lowered his eyes to the thing in between his fingers and explained, “This pen knife was made out of silver and dipped in Growsbane. You should know that it is more than enough to take away your life if I desire it.” “Won't that be a good thing, Zayn?” Kodiak ran his hand through his slick brown hair as if he were unleashing all his pent-up frustration on it. “I thought she would return to her pack or go into the Iron Crest pack when she left me but she isn't there. I don't know where she is...and it's driving me crazy not knowing if she is in danger!”

My breath came out in a plume of fog. The Knowing rose like a scream behind my eyes. I grabbed my coat and the dagger from the nightstand. It wasn’t silver. It wasn’t even forged. It was carved from obsidian stone threaded with veins of silver so fine they looked like lightning frozen in time. I had carried it since I was a child. But I had never used it.

His focus remained fixed on the weapon in his hand, his expression alight with an almost frenzied curiosity. It was a dagger. Its sapphire blade glowed faintly under the moonlight, mesmerizing in a sinister way, its. The hue was unnaturally vivid, as though it pulsed with a life of its own. found myself staring at it, unable to look away, as if its malevolent beauty had cast a spell over me. But my trance didn’t last. My stomach churned as I noticed the blood on the blade—the blood of Skyla—being absorbed into the sapphire, disappearing completely as though it had never existed.

Beside him lay a small, intricately carved wooden box, its surface etched with symbols she recognized as belonging to the Shadow Stalkers. A scream tore itself from Lyra’s throat, a raw sound of betrayal and anguish. Inside the box, nestled amongst a bed of crimson velvet, was a single, obsidian dagger, its hilt adorned with a silver wolf’s head—the sigil of Silvermoon. The same sigil she wore. The dagger was undeniably Rhys’s. She knew it intimately.

“They’ll smell the blood, see the dagger, and they’ll believe.” Kilian studied her, his gaze burning with a mix of fear and pride. Through the mate bond, she felt what he didn’t say — I can’t lose you too. Lyra stood, straightening her coat. “Then let’s make it a show worth watching.” The forest was heavy with fog when they reached the clearing. Moonlight filtered through the trees, painting the world in silver and shadow. Lyra drew her dagger — the same blade she’d carried since she was a pup, the one etched with the sigil of Kilian’s pack. “Make it look real,” she said softly.