Bowblade Spirit Novel Novels & Stories

He dodged Blake as he came with a swooping hand to scratch out Nathan's side. All of the aggressive and animalistic behavior was completely sucked from Nathan’s demeanor. The shadow launched himself at Nathan and he just stepped out of the way. Noticing a moment of weakness, the Spiritwalker swiped his hand in an attempt to throw Nathan across the lot, but underestimated Nathan’s fighting expertise. Nathan jumped from his spot and threw off Blake, who stumbled from the lack of contact. Nathan jumped on its back and shoved the Spirit into the ground, dirt and gravel sprouting around its tumbling body.

His body and his historical halberd also surged in spiritual flames. An equally powerful spiritual pressure instantly spread out from him. Both spiritual pressures clashed and caused thunderous noises like a storm. Shepard roared, then wielded his longsword masterfully again, pointing his longsword downwards as if he was painting with the earth as his canvas. The poetic blade attack came at Wilbur. Storms were instantly raised, and a flash of blade light shone across the hill. The blade energy came at Wilbur at full force. Wilbur laughed and yelled, "Nice!"

She does not allow herself to write emotionally. She turns to the next blank page. Blood, she writes. Snow. Running. Side wound before impact registered — death by blade, fast. Ambush. Weather: cold. Location: unknown — open ground, pale landscape. No face. White flowers. Severed. Death by blade again, different wound, not mine. Stone floor. Formal setting — ceremony? High status implied by location. No face. Fire. Major structure — palace or equivalent. Loss of self. Not blade. Not hands. Something larger. Emotionally overwhelming context. No face.

I might have been ruthless or cruel, but only to those who would dare invoke my wrath in such a way. As Silverclaw, one of my alterations gave us the ability to partially shift our wolf form, taking on whatever aspects of our wolves we may need. I elongated my claws and slowly sliced through the skin of the first victim, then I slipped my claw under the skin and began to rip it off.

Strong. Identical to Emilio. But colder. Eyes black. Elias watched through a monitor. "Begin Phase Two. Let the ghost taste air." The boy’s eyes snapped open. He whispered one word: "Mother." ~~~~~~~~~~ BOOK OF BLOOD — NEW PAGE "You can clone a body. You cannot clone a soul. But if you feed rage to both... they will not become brothers. They will become war." Aria folded the page. Burned it. And disappeared again.

*** The first howl cuts through the air like a blade. Kaia freezes mid-sentence. We’re on the back porch now, watching dusk melt into night. A second howl follows, this time, longer, angrier. Lucien and Elen burst from the side, blades drawn. "Stay back!" Then it appears. A spirit-wolf. Bone white, with eyes like shards of starlight. Its form is half-smoke, half-solid, the air around it rippling with ghost fire. "Why is it here?" Nyrielle demands, wings lifting in alarm.

It emanated power, but it also emitted something else, something sinister. A person emerged from the light before I could touch it. With glistening silver eyes and a flowing robe that appeared to be composed of starlight, it was ethereal, nearly human but not quite. The spirit said, "Stop," its voice echoed in my head instead of my ears. This blade is a curse as well as a weapon. To wield it is to completely lose oneself. My fingertips were just inches from the light when I froze. "What are you saying? With a trembling voice, I asked.

I reply, turning to face the spirit. The spirit is wearing a half black mask, but I swear I know this spirit. The spirit chuckles as if my words are funny. I don’t have time for games. I want to end this as quickly as possible because whoever lives here might be back any second now, and I don’t want to be caught here. I raise my war scythe and bring it to full size as I strike the spirit in the chest, but to my dismay and surprise, I can’t reap the spirit's soul. What the hell!

"Keep it steady!" I regained my footing between the bags, aimed, then took another two shots. One hit his upper arm, the other his shoulder, but he kept coming, unfazed by the gushing holes. I shifted my weight onto my other foot and grinned. I might not have stopped him, but the Thornblood dipped bullets had punctured him, binding shade and host to the same satisfying fate. I fired one last time, hitting him strait between his soulless eyes.

"You've spent the last 3 years perfecting this new fighting style for yourself and its mind-blowingly powerful." The wind spirit rose from the rubble on the ground. It looked completely fine, as if it had never been in an intense fight but taking an afternoon stroll. It ascended slowly while staring at Saxon with its green eyes. "It doesn't have a scratch on it," Xasha commented. "It's got scratches alright, it's gotten even weaker than before. Look at its body, doesn't it look a bit more transparent?" The wind spirit roared in anger. It raised its hand over its head, then brought it down. Hundreds of crescent moon wind blades formed and came after Saxon. The wind spirit hadn't even looked a