Golden Edge Blade Novels & Stories

I broke my promise and left the spot I was crouching, then slowly began to circle the perimeter of the forest, towards where the murderers stood on the edge of the garden. I just wanted to see their faces once, wanted to memorize their happy smiles so that when those same faces were twisted in the grimace of death, my revenge would be sweeter. I just wanted to know who killed my parents. I stopped at the brink of the forest, ever closer to where the men stood. They seemed to be having a discussion about how to dispose of the dead bodies they'd created, the people they'd murdered. I scanned their faces one by one, my eyes moving rapidly through the group of ten or twelve men, and my eyes came

"We move at dawn." Everyone nodded. Seraphine called the session and people began moving to their assigned preparation tasks. Viviana and Kyle to finalize the ward sequence. Ryker to coordinate his wolves. Lucian to contact his people on the eastern approach with the updated timing. I went to the weapons wall and began checking the silver daggers, running each one through the same inspection Seraphine had taught me. Balance. Edge. Handle integrity. I pulled the third blade from the left. The edge was compromised. Not obviously. Not in a way that casual inspection would catch. But the silver coating on the upper third of the blade had been carefully, precisely removed, leaving a section that

BLADE 3. Pain. It was all I felt when I shot my eyes opened. I felt so sore and tired. The memories of how Lorenzo plunged deeper into me last night filled my mind. He was so cruel to me. I didn't find any enjoyment in it at all. I tried lifting my hands and I was happy It was back to functioning. My tit hurts too as a result of the sucking he did last night.

"What do you require from the forge today?" "I need lightweight obsidian blades," I said, walking over to the metal racks and pointing directly to a sheet of dark, refined glass-metal resting near the back. "Forge two light daggers tailored specifically for a human fighter's smaller hand. Design them for maximum speed, sharp leverage, and close-quarters defense." "Obsidian is a dangerously brittle and difficult material to balance for a non-shifter, my Lord," the blacksmith noted, examining the dark sheet carefully. "However, if I temper it with silver alloy, I can make them absolute perfection for her."

"The sword itself is pure silver, and the marking had taken hours to do." A middle-aged man slammed his hand down on the wooden table, before glaring up at Father. "Surely you can see that for us, paying ninety coins for this is too pricey?" Sighing I moved closer to fathers side. A few of the younger men gazed at me with smirks, yet I paid them no mind as I grabbed the sword. "the blade is sharpened to the very point and could slice through the skin with a gentle touch." To prove my point, I gently ran my finger over the blade. Hissing, I pulled my hand back to see a bead of blood drip down my finger.

The impact sent him crashing to the ground of the cage. The crowd cheered crazily, screams erupted all around me. "BLADE!" "BLADE!" "BLADE!" I pulled out my custom-made blade gleamed with a savage hunger under the bright arena lights. The polished steel bore the name "Capone," etched into the metal like a proclamation of death. Its edge was as sharp as a serpent's fang. It looked eager to cut, having tasted the blood of many before. The handle, wrapped in black leather, felt like a coiled snake in my grip, ready to strike with deadly accuracy. This blade wasn't just a weapon; it was a merciless instrument of brutality, a symbol of my unrelenting power in this world.

Even without her explanation, I could feel the shift in the air as she unsheathed it and knew that there was an unnatural sort of magic at play. It was beautiful in a haunting, blood-chilling sort of way. The blade itself sparkled with hints of both silver and gold, the moonlight revealing the delicate carvings all along the metal. The grip was cushioned in crimson fabric, but the showstopper was the pummel and the blood ruby that sat atop it. The ruby didn’t reflect the moonlight like the metal of the blade did. No, it seemed to create its own light, glowing from within.

There was a glint of light and the soft sound of a blade leaving its scabbard as the woman took out a simple yet beautifully handcrafted dagger. The blade was made out of a silver like glass and curved at the tip. The blade had never seen blood before. The handle was made out of some kind of brass and it was wrapped in a soft, tanned leather. It was well made, it being from one of the best blacksmiths in the land of huskarian.

The pain that had driven Zlo from his body. She pulled back her fist and the blade released from Dirk’s flesh. They both watched the dripping silver blade as it emerged from his belly. The blood shivered and fell away, leaving the blade pristine and gleaming. She remembered what Astrapi had told her: that the blade was made from steel mixed with Deluvian silver, that it would cut through anything. She flicked the spring and the blade retracted into the smooth casing once more. Dirks’ mouth was moving but no sound emerged. He reached out one hand to the doorway where they both stood and leaned heavily against it, he was panting and sweat matted his hair to his brow.

It sliced a silver arc in front of Odin's eyes before burying itself hilt-deep in the wall beside him. Odin's eyes widened at the sight of the gleaming platinum handle. "You... Are you one of the Shadow Sect's Five Blades?" The Cold Moon Saber was a symbol of rank within the Shadow Sect. The handle's material was a telltale sign of the wielder's status. For the Five Blades, the elite governors of the districts, only platinum would do. District inspectors and squad leaders flaunted knife handles gleaming with pure gold. The rank and file, though, wielded blades of the same make, forged from a special kind of hardened steel.