Dark Sans Novels & Stories

Damonq was on the stairs, and Darkness swung around to face him. Elina forced herself to look at the ancient warrior. He was the opposite of everything Darkness was. Roped muscles, scars, waist-length salt-and-pepper hair. He looked rugged. Tough. Scary. He had tattoos drifting up his neck so he looked a little like a modern-day outlaw biker. Darkness, despite his head being blown off repeatedly, always managed to restore his flawless, model looks. At first glance, one would be terrified of Damonq, not Darkness, and that would be a very big mistake.

This darkness is kind of cruel in itself, and would never let anyone belong to it to break free from its shadow! “I barely stop the darkness, but it's not enough,” he continued as the fireflies been weakened, and their light is one of a dim. The absence of the darkness that is spread away made them somewhat barely survive. Their light haven't that bursting and blinding than ever, and is now flickering to distinguish. The man in black suit slowly turn away, and as he fully turn his back from the dim place, he said with undying authority, “My army, my Negin, this is the time you have waiting for!”

A high-quality photo lit up the dark room. PROFILE 4: KYRIAN VOLKOV Lorenzo slowly lifted his head. His pen stopped. On the screen was a young man. Elegant. Controlled. Ash-blond hair, messy but perfect. Pale face. Sharp features but beautiful. Like he was born powerful. He wore a black coat over a white shirt. Buttoned high. Strict. No jewelry. Just pure class. Old money style. Background was blurry. But he was in focus. His eyes—cool, steady. No fear. Just calm.

Darkness didn't fall gradually or fade with warning. It took the room violent, complete seizure of every photon. Not a gentle fade into dimness. Not a flicker of dying emergency systems. A complete, suffocating absence like the facility itself had closed its eyes and stopped caring whether we could see. For half a second maybe less, time becoming difficult to measure, No one moved. Because this kind of dark wasn't normal power failure or standard blackout. It wasn't just lack of light that eyes could eventually adjust to.

A document similar to a curriculum vitae was attached to the top of that file. Name- DARKSTAR Zayn Redfield I did not have any idea of what I was seeing. I went through the rest of the pages. These are Zayn's documents. But what does it mean by a DARKSTAR? What is BLACKMATRIX? Why are Zayn's documents here? Why am I here? With thousands of questions my head was about to burst. I had no strength and my legs were weak.So I slowly sat down on the edge of the bed. My head was spinning so badly and I couldn't hold on to my strength anymore...

They matched the size of the unknown. Godric held his chest. He had the feeling that the darkness would overwhelm him. He couldn't explain how this darkness could be so powerful that it touched even a ghost. The aura of the unknown was so powerful and haunting that Godric took a step back and dropped to his knees. The darkness seemed to weigh on his shoulders, trying to crush him. It wasn't just the young priest who felt like this, the other monks also seemed to have succumbed to this powerful aura. Amon held onto his staff and tried to defy the force, even if it was almost hopeless. "Don't let up!" He kept shouting encouragingly.

' He asked with a raised eyebrow. 'How's what going?'. 'The whole walking into a dark dangerous forest, how are you holding up?'. 'It's that bad you know. And it's not dark at all. I just don't like the dense atmosphere and the too tall and wide trees which takes up ninety percent of the place'. 'I see'. He said stroking his rough stubble. 'And you, how are you holding up?'. 'Holding up?'. He chuckled. 'I'm not holding up at all babe, it feels...normal'. He shrugged.

I gave him a bone and patted him on the head. Now it is time to find the Numero Uno asshole. I wonder what his name was. Watch it be “Gary” or “David”. Something generic and boring. That would serve him right for murdering me. A boring name. I opened my laptop and started searching for different sketch artists nearby. I found a few in Dallas. I’m not sure if they could do what I needed, but I would just have to call and find out. Damn. I can’t call anyone! I still don’t have my phone. I guess that is the first step. Why is everything so hard?

He leaned forward and looked at me with concern. "Can you tell me about the nightmares, please?" He asked, and I nodded and looked away, trying to blink the tears that threatened to fall. "Darkness, William, literal darkness. When Dinah told us about the darkness that will be upon us, she was talking about a total blackout. No sunlight." I said, sounding frantic, and he looked at me, confused.

Darkous snarled, his voice threatening. Elika began to back away slowly, as though only just finding her feet. The princess’ fear peeked as Darkous mirrored her movements. The dark lord seemed to take more interest in her than the battle, her terror like a flame to a moth. She stared up at her uncle as he stalked towards her, his mechanical white eyes lifeless. Darkous had a long clear scar down his right cheek; the dead tissue curving towards the edge of his mouth. He was wearing a pair of deep blue jeans and a plain black band shirt, the long leather trench coat concealing his weapons. The dark lord hid his long night black hair under a leather hat, more scars becoming clear around his e