Lords Of The Fallen Bloody Glory Novels & Stories

He was dealing with a true-blooded Vampire, the rightful heir of the Vampire kingdom and dark empire. He didn't even have time to scream before I ripped his throat out and sunk my hand into his chest. Black Blood oozed from the gaping hole, his heart still beating as I ripped it from his body. He dropped to the ground, his red eyes wide with shock. I tossed the heart beside him crushing it under my boot. I leaned over him, my face an inch from his. "Long live the king." I spat, ripping his head off his body and making my way to the castle.

Joe's voice sounding along with them, as he pushed his men forward through the frey of black armored soldiers, stark against their own glowing silver armour. Ambrose was cutting through men like grass, when he felt a knee trembling flash of terror and fear, deep within him. He paused his fighting, leaving himself exposed, just as a soldier lifted his sword to cut the Lord down. When a slither of metal pierced right through the back of the soldier's neck, gurgling on his own blood, the soldier collapsed - to reveal the bloodied face of Ravyn. The Shadow's eyes, filled with the icy determination of a warrior in battle.

Laye joins me, intently watching the scene, probably recreating it in his mind. We find Pharaoah between two cars riddled with bullet holes. Two bodies lie limp around him as he punches an Albanian to a pulp. The man’s features are unrecognizable, his eyes swollen, his lip busted, his shirt soaked with blood and dirt. Every time Pharaoah punches him, the man’s blood sprays on his shirt, face, and glasses. It’s a first for someone so meticulous who never gets his hands dirty. “I said…” He breathes harshly. “Where the fvck is your nest of cowards? Where do you rats hide? Huh?”

TW-RAPE (not a scene just a mention) “The Black Hunter strikes us once yet again leaving a gruesome mess in the house of the murdered. Despite being a messy murderer, not a trace of DNA can be found. Careful. Whoever he is, what does he want and why has he targeted these specific targets?”

The Clash of Kings The air split as Erebus lunged, his shadow-forged blade carving a jagged path toward me. I met it with steel, sparks flying as our swords collided. The force of the impact rattled through my bones, driving me back a step, but I planted my boots and shoved forward, refusing to give ground. The battlefield roared around us soldiers clashing, wolves snapping, guardians hurling fire but all of it blurred at the edges. There was only him. Only Erebus. His eyes burned with scarlet fire, and every strike carried the weight of centuries of darkness.

The air suddenly turned freezing cold. The forest surrounding the temple fell silent. Then... They appeared. Thousands upon thousands of armored warriors emerged from the mist. Unlike the Shadow Legion, they made no sound. Their armor was black as obsidian. Their eyes burned with empty blue fire. Each carried an ancient weapon etched with forgotten symbols. Liam swallowed hard. "They're dead..." Orion nodded grimly. "The Fallen Legion." "The greatest army ever assembled." "They were buried after the First Age." Magnus tightened his grip on his axe.

But as I get closer, I hear something that makes my blood run cold. Screaming. I break into a run before I can think better of it, my pack bouncing against my back as I crest a small hill. What I see below makes me stop in my tracks. A caravan. Or what's left of one. Three wagons are overturned, their contents spilled across the road. Bodies lie scattered among the wreckage—some moving, some terribly still. And surrounding them are figures in dark armor, their faces hidden behind masks of black iron. Ember Dominion soldiers.

"You weren't confused. You just never saw me as your own daughter." Then I hung up and blocked her number, too. On my fifth day in Kingsley City, Tyler finally returned from tutorials. He was tall and lean, wearing black-rimmed glasses with a slightly shy smile. "Are you Stella Morrow? I've heard so much about you." He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "My mother insisted I study under your guidance." I asked him directly, "What was your score this year?" "1001." "And where are you aiming for?"

The opponents were losing their moral. The bloody battle continued with same intensity. Swords drown in blood wanted more. Axes fly, they hit their targets. Men fall dying and half-dying. The ground was slippery from blood. Hjolt slashed a group that was in front of him. Blood flows drown his armor making poodles everywhere he went. The morale of his men was rising. IX

Then he gave a slow nod to his men. He looked at Sergio with unbridled hatred. "This isn't over, not by a long short. I will be back to claim what is mine." One by one, they backed off. Fading into smoke. Into retreat. ************************************************** The silence that followed was deafening. Rosana stood alone in the center of the destroyed hallway, her dress streaked with soot and blood. A shard of broken mirror leaned against the wall nearby, reflecting pieces of her—sharp, splintered, unrecognizable.