Haunting Dagger Novels & Stories

“You’re not going to touch me.” “Aren’t I?” She raised her hand, and from inside the sleeve of her black suit emerged a dagger. The blade was curved, shiny, with runes engraved that pulsed with a faint red. Pure silver. “An enchanted silver dagger. Cuts Lilim like butter. It’s a precaution. In case you resist.” “I will resist.” “I expected you to say that.” She advanced.

Night crept in like a shadow with teeth. I stood at the edge of the forest, the Hollow Tree looming in the distance like a giant’s twisted fist. The moon overhead was red—bloody and full. I didn’t bring the Luna Star. I brought the dagger instead. Every part of me screamed this was a trap, but if there was even the slightest chance I could end this without damning Kael—I had to try. I stepped into the clearing. Damon stood beneath the tree, hood thrown back, obsidian blade at his side, eyes glowing like twin coals.

"Come back to me. Please. Just come back." Then I reached for the dagger. It lay on the altar beside him, its blade catching the moonlight now streaming through the cracked roof of the temple. The light looked like a wound in the sky, bleeding silver onto us. The dagger's hilt throbbed beneath my fingers as I picked it up. Ancient. Heavy. Alive. Symbols etched into its handle began to glow, pulsing with my heartbeat. It knew. It wanted this. "I’ll see you soon," I promised, and drove the blade into Axel’s chest.

He was still holding my hand, half-dragging her to the second floor, where my mother's room was. I stopped in front of the door. My mother entered and seemed to open the drawer under her stomach. The woman was silent for a moment and took a deep breath. "Lea, come here. I want to show you this." Finally, I walked in and stood behind my mother. The woman turned around slowly, with a wooden box in her hand—a wooden box no larger than two inches in size than an adult man's hand. "This is an ancient dagger belonging to the werewolf predecessors." Mother opened the wooden box with the intricate carving. A small dagger with a wooden handle and old characters looks beautifully carved. Not only that

I could feel the magic swirling around me, brushing against my skin like icy fingers. She handed me a small, silver dagger, its blade gleaming in the dim light. “You’ll need to draw blood—yours, to bind the ritual. It’s the only way to open the tomb.” I stared at the dagger in my hand, its weight cold and heavy. My heart raced as I raised the blade to my palm, the sharp edge biting into my skin. Blood welled up, crimson droplets spilling onto the stone of the tomb. The ground trembled beneath my feet, and a low rumble echoed through the forest as if the earth itself was waking.

My mother gasps and angrily gets to her feet. "Nicholas, put that thing away," her sharp, angry gaze regards my father, "Leondre, I thought that was destroyed long ago!" "Don't be mad, I took it from him to keep… Just in case," I explain. The mage king, Kian, and Queen, Ansley, created the dagger in my hands. It is the only weapon that can kill the wraiths within me, but in doing so, it takes my life. "Nick, give it to me," my mother demands. I shake my head and secure the dagger back in the drawer. She takes back her seat, angry at us.

she hissed, bringing her face an inch closer to mine. I huffed out a laugh, the pain almost overwhelming every other thought. "So you deliberately took the task?" Her jaw ticked. She gave a curt nod before getting to her feet and turning around. My eyes settled on the dagger that was attached to her hips. The ornamental hilt peeked from the leather sleeve. I wasn't even surprised when I recognised it as the Queen's dagger. It was a powerful one and could kill any vampire with one stroke. No wonder she allowed her to use it. I begrudgingly admitted to myself that my so-called friend could very easily kill me but she didn't.

she said pointing at the , “You must keep it safe, etta, no one should know that you have this dagger,” She said with a plea in her voice, and fear in her eyes,”This is the mystical dagger of the sorcerers forged using the blood of a white witch and sweats of dark witches,” She whispered. “It's been locked away for centuries in a place no one knows until…” she gulped, “until now.”

We were bound. Bound by blood. By fate. And if I died— “HAHAHAHA!” The witch’s laughter exploded around the room like thunder cracking through glass, wild and unhinged, echoing off the ancient stone walls. “Yes,” she cackled. “All we need to do is KILL YOU… and he’ll drop dead instantly.” She raised her hand—and I saw it. The dagger. Long. Curved. Forged from bone and obsidian, its edge shimmered with dark runes, ancient and forbidden.

Demon's POV And Helen that bitch, had a dagger aimed above Zirah's heart about to plunge it down. There was a lot we shifters can heal from. Decapitation and a dead heart were not one of them. I rushed into her with the force of a freight train knocking into her causing her to lose her balance and topple to the floor taking me her. The dagger was still in her grip and up close I recognized it as part of their family heirlooms, passed down from shifter to shifter. Her father must have given it to her.