Frost Blade Novels & Stories

The Hollow Blade waited for her there. It was no weapon forged by men, nor a simple vision birthed from fear. It was something etched into the marrow of her existence. A spectral blade with jagged, shifting edges, its body wreathed in whispers that cut deeper than steel. The voice it carried wasn’t one voice, it was many, layered, distorted, yet unified in cruelty. "You think you can wear the crown of Luna? You think your blood is strength, hybrid?" the Blade hissed, circling her in the void-space.

"He chose to come here. Chose to work the fields. Chose freedom. That choice had risks. He accepted them." "Did he? Did he know that accepting freedom meant dying in a field at thirty-two?" "No one knows what accepting anything means. We just choose and hope." Elena covered James's face. "You gave him six months of choice. That's more than Victor gave him in two years." Forty-eighth stone for Hope's Garden. Maya carved it herself. The third winter was worse than the models predicted. Minus-thirty sustained. Minus-forty during storms. Minus-fifty for three days straight when polar vortex descended.

Exactly as seen earlier in the castle. The sword. “What does that one do?” I asked, pointing to it. “It drinks blood. For anyone it kills, their blood is stored in the blade. You would try to always have a clothing between you and the hilt” That did not sound more beneficial than fairy dust. “So how useful would it be to protect me?” With only a smile, “very” Time to close the deal. “I have one silver coin” playing with the coins against my fingers. “Make it three and we have a deal”

“Again.” This time she came without restraint, steel met steel in steady rhythm, faster and cleaner. I matched her steps instead of countering them and when her blade slipped from her grip, it was timing, not strength, that put it in the frost between us. She looked at it, then at me. “You’re not as fragile as you pretend.” “I’ve never pretended.” A murmur moved along the edge of the yard, no one looked away this time. I picked up her blade and offered it back hilt-first and she took it without breaking eye contact.

Still clinging to ashes. Keep gathering. Keep howling. It won't stop what comes. We are the Shadow Beneath the Fur. We will erase your name from the wind. ---- My blood chilled. "That's not a threat," murmured Alpha Caelin of the Northern Frosts Pack. "That's a declaration of war." "But who are they?" demanded a younger Alpha, his fists clenched. "Shadow Beneath the Fur? What kind of name is that?" "A faction?" offered another. "Some exiled blood cult? A branch of witches?"

One move from her and they were already scattered and spiralling everywhere. She didn’t even look up until she bumped into someone. The latter was rock solid because although Liora was the one who bumped into him, she was the one who was sent metres backwards. She staggered and then raised her head, a familiar face greeting her. Tall. Sharp jawline. Brilliant, Dangerous, Ruthless and a foe. Damien Frost. CEO of Frost Corporation. The Frosts and The Morgans’ were mortal enemies since she could remember. The story was old and ancient and she could barely remember it but she knew that they hated each other in both private and public but sometimes managed to keep up appearances in public.

Raphael replied, "I do not plan to annihilate or conquer a race or anyone except Roosevelt, what I will do instead is forge an alliance between me and each race, just like the pact I want to propose to you, wolf." I demanded, "What pact exactly." He smirked, "Annihilating Roosevelt together, and serving me." Mars snapped, "You expect us to serve you? Who do you think you are?" Raphael gripped his sword, he looked seconds from unsheathing it, his fingers locked the hilt, I could witness frozen tendrils of mist bleeding out. "You nearly forced me to draw frostbite" So Raphael’s sword is called Frostbite Blade. The blade is long, straight, pale blue like glacier ice. It doesn’t shine. It drinks

The silver hair bloomed under the faint moonlight peeping through the leaves, reflecting pale light like threads of metal. I could not see his face clearly, but the sight of his broad back alone made my breathing hitch slightly. My heart started hammering inside my chest. "Don't fall in love," Moon warned. "I am not," I whispered quickly, though my pulse refused to calm down. My attention immediately shifted to his wound. A dagger had been driven deep into his back shoulder. The blade glinted faintly beneath the moonlight. Even from this distance, I could recognize the dull gray coating along the metal.

She faked a smile and took the knife from him. "Because you're a bad cook?" Lev raised a brow. "You haven't had a taste of Lev yet," He said glancing at her.

Nonetheless, one must not forget their undead nature. The vampires that were running after Zephyr were Blizzard Vampires, and they possessed great, icy powers. In other words, ice was their main element. Zephyr quickly unsheathed Draken, engaging his Focus. The sword glowed and shimmered in his palm, “Taste lightning!” Zephyr screamed as the wind kicked up beneath his feet, accompanied by a streak of electricity. Zephyr was preparing his attack stance. With Zephyr at the center, his flurry attack rushed to them like a blossoming flower, striking outwards at everything.