Lingering Will Keyblade Novels & Stories

Chance they had was to battle their way to victory, but with the sword's power abated, how might they possibly win? Suddenly, within the darkest minute, Clara felt something, a faint whisper, a presence inside the blade, distinctive from the dim energy she had felt before. It was antiquated, more seasoned than the Ascendant, and it appeared to be calling out to her, offering a glimmer of hope. Clara closed her eyes, centering on the presence inside the sword. She felt its power, buried profoundly underneath the layers of obscurity, and she knew that if she could open it, they might have a chance.

Black steel, Alive, Waiting. She stepped forward and took it, Pain lanced through her fingers as it fused to her palm, Every choice she’d ever made bled into the metal. It knew her. And it knew what it had to do, Not to kill the First Quill, But to outwrite it, The moment she gripped the blade, her name returned in full: Liora Liolai Nightwind.Daughter of mercy, Descendant of fire, Refuser of crowns, Wearer of them anyway.

Levi shouted, slashing at a shadowy tendril that breached the barrier, only for it to reform instantly. The colossal hand lunged, its fingers grazing Autumn’s arm, leaving a searing cold that made her gasp. Her silver light flared instinctively, blasting the hand back, but the effort sent her to her knees, the curse’s pain intensifying. The altar behind her glowed brighter, its runes pulsing in time with her heartbeat, as if awakening to her presence. The voice in her mind—her mother’s, or something older—whispered again: The bond is the key. Without it, the power will consume you.

The look on Slate’s face said it all as Nya stood there with the Heart of Magic tight in her fist. The soldiers’ faces told her that they recognized that it was too late, that they had let the magical gem fall into enemy hands. One of the soldiers held a sword to Slate’s throat, his hands trembling. Nya hadn’t even realized that he was under their control until the tip of the sword pierced his skin, and a tiny droplet of blood rolled down the edge.

He walked towards me, grabs me by the arm and hugged me tightly. “Destiny, please come back” I heard him crying. “Hikaru…” I returned his hug and rest my head on his shoulder. As he wipes his tears from his face, he apologizes. He sat down again, his head was looking at the ground. “You’ve inherited Destiny’s sword, might as well have her throne.” “NO” I shortly replied, he looked at me. “And never ever!” an angry voice was heard. Hikaru stood up in surprise, I was still holding the sword. On the staircase stands, Aiomi.

"One of the things he had on him when he was caught was a silver locket with a picture of twin girls inside. I was told they were about thirteen years old, with white hair and purple eyes." I wiped a stray tear from my cheek. "That's the last picture we had taken of us before..." Before I'd hacked my hair to my shoulders and did my best to forget who I was and what I could do. "The locket was Lills. She gave it to him for good luck right before he left." "It could've been stolen." I nodded. "Maybe. Is there no way we can find out for sure before we leave? Without involving Lillith?" "No. Even if we had time to interview the two survivors ourselves, it wouldn't make a difference. They've alre

Behind Robert the circle grew smaller and some drew weapons, which flashed electricity at the tip. Alisha recoiled when her paw touched the edge and some stones fell into the void. -Blaren what do we do? - He said through his mind touching his neck with his nose to get his attention. -Do you believe in something? - She mentally denied and didn't think it was the first time she did. "You know we have no other alternative," he said, stepping back until he was at the top as well.

“Then she will protect you, fiercely, absolutely. But never gently.” With that, Melinda produced a silver blade, its edge catching candlelight like a slice of moon. She knelt before Chloe. “Your blood is the key. Offer it freely, or the bond will reject you.” Chloe extended her hand. The blade kissed her palm, sharp but quick, and a thin line of blood welled up. Melinda caught the drops in a black ceramic bowl filled with herbs, ash, and dark liquid that smelled of iron. She stirred it with the blade, chanting in a tongue Chloe didn’t recognize, guttural and old, each syllable vibrating through the air like a storm building.

Its hilt glowed faintly violet, and the air around it rippled with suppressed violence. “What is that?” Marisella asked, her voice low. “The Sigil Blade,” the Seer answered. “A weapon tied to her bloodline. Hidden until the echoes resurfaced.” Eryx cursed under his breath. “If that’s here, we’re in more trouble than I thought.” The pendant pulsed again, stronger, and Marisella felt her knees weaken. The air became heavy, pressing down on her shoulders. Somewhere in the distance, thunder rolled—not overhead, but below, as if the underworld itself had shifted.

Seraphina stood over him, her hand on his head, her black nails drawing blood from his scalp. "The Wolf sleeps," she whispered in the vision. Lucian looked up. His amethyst eyes were leaking black ink. He held something in his hand. The Lunar Dagger. But it wasn't gold. It was stained. Drenched in a thick, slow-moving red. "And the Muse?" Lucian asked. His voice sounded like it was coming from the bottom of a well. "The Muse will be the battery," Seraphina said. She smiled. Her teeth were gone. Only jagged bone remained. "The child will be the key. We will drain the Ridge until the trees turn to salt. And Kaelor will watch from the spikes."