House Of Blades Novels & Stories

They tease, they laugh. Somewhere between here and there, claws met blades and fangs met armor. Blood splattered onto sidewalks, heads rolled off to lampposts, and screams filled the silence of the night. It was a matter that could’ve ended peacefully, had it not been for the destruction caused by both parties. Both were at fault. Now both pay for their mistakes—using the lives of their subordinates.

He was the wealthy, arrogant playboy girls would swoon around, and also the Blade family's eldest son. "Ezekiel?” A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Ezekiel Blade,” he said. "Why are you without your glasses, freckle face?” He always mentioned his last name like he was nothing without it. But I knew that he loved the name so much as it meant people would fear him. I rolled my eyes, pulling my hand away from his grip. “Still a bully, huh? Besides, I don't wear glasses anymore, and I'm definitely not freckle face. It's Lydia Winters,” I said, mimicking his words.

Around him, his team worked in perfect synchrony, the rhythmic beeping of the monitors a constant reminder of the fragile life in their hands. Within minutes, he reached the sternum, the thick, protective bone that shielded the heart and lungs. “Sternal saw," he instructed, and the nurse promptly handed over the buzzing tool. The sharp whir of the rotating blade filled the operating room, slicing through the bone with mechanical efficiency. The sound was harsh, grating, a noise that could easily make an untrained observer uneasy, but in this setting, it was routine. No one flinched, no one hesitated. The team remained steadfast in their roles, each person focused on the intricate dance of sa

He looked at me sharply. I met his gaze, something feral and bright burning behind my eyes. “They don’t have admin rights.” Understanding slammed into him. A slow, lethal smile curved his mouth. Before he could answer, the lights died. Total blackout. Then emergency illumination surged—deep crimson, bleeding through the crystal walls like living arteries. The Sanctuary wasn’t panicking. It was arming itself. Lucien drew his sword. Not fast. Ceremonial. The blade sang as it cleared the scabbard—a sound that vibrated through my bones, old and absolute. Runes flared to life along the steel, burning gold against black metal.

I didn’t even blink. My hands moved to the twin blades at my sides—obsidian-forged, curved, deadly. I’d carved the hilts with my own blood the night before I came here. I didn’t name them. They weren’t sacred. They were efficient. The beast let out a roar that shook the arena. Dust spilled from the balconies. I heard nobles flinch. Someone screamed. I ran straight toward it. No hesitation. No waiting for orders. Let the vampires see this clearly.

For a moment, Huxley Ward got goosebumps. He even felt the blade in his hands quivering. “You… Who are you?” “Blade Maniac.” Zeppelin Wayne uttered those two words succinctly before striding towards Huxley. Hands raised. Swords swinging… Clang… There was no fancy flourish when the Reversal Blade came down without the slightest delay. It wasn’t quick. But it was oppressive. ‘Ah…’ Under the extreme duress, Huxley could not help but cry out in his head.

Fighting in human form will be more advantageous than in werewolf form, which means fighting to death. Blade was lost in her thoughts, so she did not notice that Medina attacked her again. Blade has no choice but to attack her again. She was thankful that Medina did not let others intervene. However, Blade already knew she was at a disadvantage with her fight with Medina. The longer the fight gets, the more powerful Medina gets. And Blade could not see most of her attack. She had suffered a lot of injuries, making her speed and attacks dull. But Medina also got a lot of injuries from her, although her attacks were weak. Eventually, Blade's knees weakened and she knelt, Medina kicked her head

Just the storm outside and the low growl of a blacked-out SUV idling at the emergency entrance. Rain lashed the windows as we climbed the coast road. The university gates appeared through the downpour—wrought iron twisted into roses and bats, glowing faintly crimson against the black cliffs. Beyond them, BludHeaven rose like a cathedral someone had carved out of midnight: spires, arched windows, stone walls that looked old enough to remember when vampires still ruled the night unchallenged. The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “Welcome to BludHeaven, Nico Black. Try not to die on the first night. The queens hate when their new toys break too soon.”

Then I saw him. He stood where no path led, bronze skin gleaming as if hammered straight from ore, eyes faceted obsidian, hair pulled tight into a knot that never moved. Armour wrapped his body in shifting light—blades folded over each other, edges reforming every time my focus tried to hold. A sword the size of a man’s height rode his back, silent, patient. A weapon, not a man. Nyxara’s tone was ice: The First Blade. The name dragged dust from the rafters. Even Selene’s silver shivered.

Then he muttered, “Fuck it.” He turned and ran. The journey to the Tonks manor felt endless. When he arrived, the sight that greeted him made his blood run cold. The house was on fire. Flames roared from the windows. Smoke poured into the sky. The roof was already collapsing in places. He could hear screams from inside … Calla’s voice, Bianca’s, Adele’s small cries. Blade didn’t hesitate. He charged toward the back door, shoulder slamming into it. Wood splintered. He burst inside, heat blasting him like a furnace.