Flesh And Blood Armory Novels & Stories

I reached through the tear. My hand—the hand that had been made of code and light—began to turn into **Flesh**. It was a slow, agonizing process. It felt like my skin was being knitted together by a million stinging bees. My armor turned into heavy, cold steel. My blood turned from a "Frequency" into a thick, hot liquid that actually had a weight. I grabbed the edge of the monitor. "SARAH! THE ORIGINALS! THROUGH THE GAP!" ### The Great Migration

My lungs burned, and my chest rose and fell heavily. But it helped. Just a little. The anger was still there, but the sharp edge of it had dulled slightly, replaced by something colder. I straightened again and continued for another ten minutes, throwing a few kicks and uppercuts into the mix before finally stepping back. My legs felt shaky now, almost like jelly, as the adrenaline slowly faded. I pulled off my gloves and began unwrapping the tape from my hands. The skin around my knuckles looked slightly red and tender from the repeated impacts.

I see the way the energy isn’t flowing evenly anymore. And I see the center. That concentrated signature. Not Arachne’s magic. Not stable. It spikes again. Wild. Then it slams down. I feel something close to excitement curl in my stomach. Not joy. Not happiness. Something sharper. “She doesn’t have control over it,” I murmur. “Over the child?” Carter asks. “Over what the child is becoming.” Abomination. The signature flickers like a bad lightbulb. Erratic. Emotional. I imagine the girl inside that house. Helena’s daughter. Unaware. Untrained. A loaded weapon with no safety on.

I shifted back until they were no space left. Small rocks fell behind me, skipping into the water. I was at the edge of the cliff. “You think I'm crazy huh?” She screamed slicing the dagger on her arm. Blood dripped over it. “Even if Xavier hate me after this I can live with that but not you in the way,” she whispered. Then in the next seconds. She rosed her arm up, ready to attack me. I stopped the dagger with my arm, blood instantly spilled over palm. I hissed from the pain, she struggled with me. Digging deep into my trembling arms.

Your brother can check and see if the clothes you saw me wearing during the funeral are still in my sister-in-law's room. Maeve had picked a showy dress that day—she expected me dead and probably planned to claim my things as her own. Maeve cried out, "No! Don't—" Before she finished, the group rushed inside and rifled through her wardrobe. Laid out among the pile was a pink tweed dress, the one Maeve had worn to the funeral.

" I kicked the door open. Ava was wearing a fur bikini, twisting her body while hanging on Noah's waist. I went crazy, limping forward to tear off her clothes, but I froze when I saw the bone flute hanging on her chest. My eyes were bloodshot as I grabbed her by the neck. "Ava! What is that on your neck?!" Ava's veins bulged, and she could not speak. Noah pulled me down. "Are you crazy, May? It is just a dying old wolf. I can catch another one for you, okay?" The bone flute on Ava's neck was made from Wolf Mom's bones—the same as mine.

"Get to the safe room. Lock it. Don't open for anyone except me." "Adam—" "Please. I need to know you're both safe so I can fight without distraction." She nodded. Kissed me quickly. "Be careful." "Always." I shifted fully and ran toward the fighting. There were vampires everywhere. At least thirty, maybe more. They'd come prepared this time. Armed with silver weapons. Wearing armor spelled against magic. This wasn't a probe. This was an execution attempt. I tore into the nearest vampire, my wolf instincts taking over. Around me, the pack fought with everything they had. The witch specialists were hurling fire and lightning. The Council guards formed defensive lines.

“I will not be judged by a relic.” “You will be undone by one, then,” the Arbiter said calmly, raising his hand. And the air behind him split. It didn’t explode or roar—it simply separated, like water peeling back. And from that impossible seam, figures began to emerge. Not soldiers. Not people. Echoforms. Council-forged weapons designed to mirror the soul’s greatest fear. They came forward slowly, weightless but real. Shimmering in forms that hadn’t yet solidified. Waiting to become what hurts the most.

I folded my arms to my chest and smirked. I was right earlier on, It was a female vampire. There was a deep richness to her black skin; a typical example of an ebony beauty. She has on leather spandex that hugged her wide hips graciously and gave her that dangerous, edgy look. Her hair was cut short and it curled like that of a new born' hair. Her brown iris gave out the mild anger she felt from inside. Warm, yet dangerous. A large tattoo covered her entire arm and back and a nose ring sat comfortably on her nose.