Elden Ring Black Blade Kindred Novels & Stories

“So, she is part demon? One of Dante’s sprogs that slipped through the net?” “No,” Lucas leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees as a weary sigh escaped him. “Atlas and Amos don’t have wolf spirits remember? Chloe does; Hecate.” “Hecate? What kind of name is that?” “It’s the name of a Greek goddess. As far as we can tell, only the Wolfe line has a wolven spirit with a Greek name. Even Sierra and Alvaro don’t have them. So, how come she has one?” Lucas raised an eyebrow, hazel eyes darkening as the questions piled up. “I think we need to make a call.”

I said. Meridia and I turned around to see undead inklings walking towards us “Fragmenters, undead remnants of Shattered Inkopolis” I said as I grab a fused weapon of the X-Blade from Kingdom Hearts and Dawnbreaker from Elder Scrolls B: Skyrim known as the Blade of Dawn. I look at Meridia holding her beacon filled with her light “let’s deal with these Fragmenters first before we continue” I said.

she said to me. “It’s a bit harder for me,” Adara said as she looked at us. “I’ve seen Kiran literally die in front of my eyes, a few times, and waiting for that one time that he doesn’t come back, that’s what I can’t handle.” “I haven’t died since I stopped using death magic,” Kiran said to her and she smiled sadly. “Yes you did, the day Kai died, when you followed him to Helheim and offered to take his place,” Adara said.

The crowd quieted once again, as though the air itself held its breath. He lifted a ceremonial blade, forged of moonsteel and so sharp it sang in the silence. “Kara and Dylan,” the elder said, “extend your hands.” Dylan gave me a gentle nod. I swallowed hard and held out my palm. The blade met my skin, slicing through it with a sharp, icy sting. I winced as warm blood spilled into the bowl. Dylan’s blood followed, and then the elder pressed our palms together, fingers locking. Our mingled blood shimmered with a strange, silvery glow. The air around us thrummed as though the room had become a living thing, inhaling with us.

Every step Lena took felt heavier, as if unseen hands were pressing down on her shoulders. Cassian and Dorian followed in silence, their expressions grim. Even they didn’t know what this trial entailed. At last, they reached a chamber unlike the others. At the center stood an altar—carved from obsidian, veins of molten gold running through it like lifeblood. Floating above it was a dagger, its blade forged from a material Lena didn’t recognize, its edges glowing with an eerie silver light. Idris moved to stand beside the altar. “This is the Blade of Ancients,” he said. “Forged in the fire of the first Trueborn. It does not spill blood—it takes something far deeper.”

“Then she will protect you, fiercely, absolutely. But never gently.” With that, Melinda produced a silver blade, its edge catching candlelight like a slice of moon. She knelt before Chloe. “Your blood is the key. Offer it freely, or the bond will reject you.” Chloe extended her hand. The blade kissed her palm, sharp but quick, and a thin line of blood welled up. Melinda caught the drops in a black ceramic bowl filled with herbs, ash, and dark liquid that smelled of iron. She stirred it with the blade, chanting in a tongue Chloe didn’t recognize, guttural and old, each syllable vibrating through the air like a storm building.

A sacred blade was placed in his hands. If his soul was still pure, the blade would remain silver. If he was corrupted—if any part of him still belonged to the ancient evil— The blade would turn black. Daniel exhaled slowly. His fingers tightened around the hilt. For a moment, nothing happened. Then— The blade flickered. It pulsed, shifting between silver and black, like it couldn’t decide. The council stiffened. Rigel’s breath caught. “Daniel—” Daniel squeezed the blade harder. “Stay silver.”

Her Shadowwalkers swarm, claws gleaming, and the gates tremble, the relic’s hum a thunderous roar. Before I can strike, the fortress’s core pulses, and a figure emerges—Voren, not in shadow, but flesh, his aura a black star, his eyes twin voids. “Convergence,” he intones, blade raised, lunar mark glowing, a twisted mirror of Elara’s. “Your mother’s blood began this. Yours ends it. Give me the blade, or your allies burn.”

But his blue eyes held a wicked light, and his lips fought a curl of smug satisfaction. “Princess Diandreliera of Uyan Taesil,” Rivyn announced gravely. “Although the Fae Court is not prepared at this time to mobilise against the Queen Clareath’s takeover of Uyan Taesil, we recognise and honour your efforts on behalf of the brethren there. As such, I, Rivyn Nae Ederne, offer you my sword,” he produced the sword from the air with a flourish that drew exclamation even from the jaded courtiers. “This is Intuin Desparen, the Heart Blade.”

Even back then he didn't leave her side. She stepped towards him but what she witnessed next had her spirit completely crushing. She felt like someone was clawing at her heart and her throat was hurting. She felt the rim of her eyes burning as she gaped at Evenor. He held his sword in his right hand, the sharp tip of his sword pointing toward her as a flame of fire danced in his left hand. "Megara...y-you." Evenor stammered he parted his lips to say further but words were stuck in his throat. It's fine if she had the green or red stone with her but why does she possess the black stone as well? Perhaps, everyone was right back then.