Legend Of Northern Blade Novels & Stories

“Some saw it. Your brother was fighting for our right to stay when he snapped his neck without the slightest hint of pity. As if that was not enough, he took your brother’s body and slammed him against a tree, over and over. You saw just how mangled—” “Stop!” I snapped, shaking my head and refusing to hear any more. The image of my brother’s bloodied body in my arms pushed me to the table in front of the crowd. I reached forward for the knife which had a silver tip. The knife which had been crafted with silver mixed with wolfsbane. One stab could send a wolf to the depths of hell. “If he’s the one who killed my brother as you said, then so be it,” I said. “I will kill the Alpha of Crimson Mo

"Harvest the pass!" The response from the Northern vanguard was immediate and terrifying. Three hundred heavy infantrymen of the Royal Legions surged through the smoking breach, their iron broadswords already unsheathed. They didn't shift into common wolves; they remained in their towering, semi-humanoid Lycan forms, their eyes glowing a fierce, predatory crimson as they flooded the lower terraces of the facility. The local rogue warriors, completely caught by surprise in their leather battle tunics, took one look at the incoming wave of northern predators and the glowing, starlight-eyed Queen at the threshold, and their coordination completely fractured.

My fingers are on my chin as I crouched and looked at it. The cover or the sheath was silver with a few pints of gold, I don't understand the engravings etched on it. Because of my curiosity, I held it and released it from its sheath. Unlike other sword, its blade was bluish and silver, the handle was wood in color and the cover was glass. It was not as heavy as it look. I lifted it up and swayed it... Imagining I was a samurai fighting some bad guys. I chuckled.

Each one held a massive, double-handed battle axe, their eyes flashing with a wild, territorial light. "You ride far from your marble palace, Alpha King," the lead northern warrior growled, his voice like grinding stone as he stepped forward, his dominant aura flaring in a defiant challenge against the throne. "The Northern Peaks belong to the free clans. State your purpose, or your blood will freeze on these rocks before midday."

He activated the spiritual energy within him, gathering it on his Thunder Blade. The Thunder Blade gleamed with a cold light, and a crimson hue appeared on the blade. "Crazy Blade Strike!" A sharp and fierce blood-red blade light cut through the air, flashing through the moonlit woods. Just as the blade light was about to touch Sebastian's body, a semi-transparent shield appeared in front of him. Clang! When the blade light struck the shield, the shield dissipated, and the blade light was also neutralized. Sebastian was unharmed, showing no signs of damage.

I raised my blade as well, stepping closer to Pelin. “Yes, dear,” Libra purred, tilting her head and batting her sultry eyes. “And the rules are clear for the likes of you. If you fail, I will obliterate all of your memories, and you shall die a painful death by my hand.” Her smile widened. “How does that sound? Aren’t you excited?” She laughed softly, cruel and pleased. “You may not use any special ability or attack once you enter,” she added. “If you refuse, you lose. Simple as that.”

My knees gave out. Above us, the red sky darkened as if the moon itself had turned away. Wolves howled across the battlefield, their connection to me fading like a dying flame. The blade slid free from my chest. Warm blood spilled down my skin and over my hands. I pressed my palm against the wound without thinking, as if pressure alone could force fate to change its mind. Across the ruined ground, Kaelor dragged himself toward me, leaving a trail of blood behind him. “Nyxara,” he kept saying.

Her eyes travel further afield, to the heart of the forest, where a nimbus of brilliant silver blooms in the shadows. She smiles as the cold wind tugs on her hair, and she sends a tune out along the breeze, towards the silvery light. The oldest song she can remember. A lullaby. Soon, she’ll be free. She’ll destroy it. Music made magic, the chain unbroken for a thousand years. All the players are assembled. The hour is late. The first move is hers. Let the game begin. Author’s Note Hi! I’m Saskia Snow, the author of Fable. The saga continues with Book Two, Lullaby.

Wooden posts wrapped in leather for striking, racks of blunted weapons, circles marked in the frozen dirt for sparring. Northern warriors had already gathered, their breath steaming as they watched the Southern delegation with naked curiosity. Torin, Beta of the Northern pack, stood at the yard's center. He was broad-shouldered and solid, his auburn beard flecked with gray, his eyes carrying the particular weight of a man who had seen decades of combat and survived them all. He wore simple training leathers, his arms bare despite the cold, scars crisscrossing his forearms like a map of old battles.

with a scream, Zephyr fought through the pain and opened his eyes and stared straight into the painting. “Blade, the weapon of the nobles, the greats, the kings! “Blade, the Lion of which that all follows. As elegant and free flow as water, as gentle and carefree as falling leaves, as powerful and mighty as the hills… none are greater than thee! “Earth-shatterer bows before your might, I bow before your might, help me find my true calling!” Zephyr stared at the painting, chanting to himself, “Blades, nay, swords, were my favorite weapon after all! Within this painting holds great Focus of the Blade, unrelenting and unforgiving.