Miracle Blade Novels & Stories

It was a High-Frequency Blade. "Game Over," Julian whispered, the red light reflecting in the ice. "Begin... The Harvest."

His eyes searched her, sharp and protective. “Raven, what is it? What happened?” His voice was urgent. But she couldn’t answer. Because it was there. Right in front of her bed, hovering in the air where moonlight filtered faintly through the window, was the Hollow Blade. The same jagged weapon from her vision, only now it gleamed with dreadful reality. Its edge shimmered with that unnatural light, whispering with voices too faint to fully hear, too sharp to ignore. Her breath hitched, terror rooting her in place as she pointed with a trembling hand.

“It’s like it’s not just metal and magic. Like it’s... waiting for something. Or expecting something from me.” Elior studied him carefully. “Do you feel any kind of pull? Any whispering, like with the Veliblade?” Rael hesitated before shaking his head. “No voices. Not yet, anyway.” Myrra sighed, keeping her gaze ahead. “That’s probably a good thing. We barely understand what the Veliblade is capable of, and now we have another relic bound to one of us. Ancient weapons with wills of their own never come without a price.”

He said rubbing her shoulders. "Noah!" She croaked and hiccuped as she cried with all her heart. "He doesn't d-deserve that!" She stuttered and wiped her tears holding his only bracelet that fell. "I know Mia, he doesn't deserve that." BLAZE VIEW. Blaze was in his human form, fighting off the rogue warrior in one second, he ripped their head off with anger and his eyes glaring at nowhere. There was he, his only objective was to kill the rogue alpha without any mercy.

A faint blue glow emanated from the walls, like spirits lurking within the shadows. At last, they entered a vast chamber surrounded by towering stone pillars. In the center of the room, embedded in another altar, a silver-blue sword pulsed with a mystical glow. Aria froze. She didn’t know how, but she knew that sword. Lorian stepped forward, eyes widening. "This…" Rael shook his head in disbelief. "The Legendary Blade…" Aria turned to them. "What do you mean?" Lorian met her gaze. "This is the Sword of Light—the only weapon capable of defeating Vaelin’s darkness. But it was lost centuries ago..."

Just a blur so clean, controlled and impossibly fast. A sharp flick of her wrist, precise as a mastermind. A twist so swift Mira’s eyes couldn’t track it… only her bones felt the instinctive jolt of danger, the primal certainty of death arrowing toward her. Steel sliced through the air with a hiss. The blade stopped a breath from Mira’s cheek. So close the cold from its edge bit into her skin. So close that her pulse jumped. A terror she’d never admit shuddered through her.

Still, they stung, and I nearly admitted that I possessed not only the Blade of Tenebris but all the magical artifacts for this Crucible— except for the Orb of Silent Echoes. I had gotten stronger. Far stronger than any of them could imagine.

“You defied me in the Mirrorlands. Now you’ll watch him die.” I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t blink. But I could burn. The Blade of Veyra reappeared in my hand like it had been waiting. It pulsed with fury—mine and the moon’s. I charged. Necros raised the relic. It glowed—flooding the temple with a blinding light. But I didn’t stop. His magic hit me like a tidal wave. It should have crushed me. Should have ripped my mind apart. Instead—something awoke.

The blade of grass was a miracle. It was a tiny, vibrant spear of green piercing through the dull, grey salt of the Draft. I stared at it until my eyes blurred. It was the first real thing we had made—not a digital trick, not a golden illusion, but a living piece of a new world.

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.