Mithril Swords Novels & Stories

“What...? How did that get here?” Seraphina’s voice trembled as her eyes widened in horror. There, beneath her bed, lay a golden sword—polished, untouched, almost glowing. Its blade shimmered like sunlight on water, and the sapphire in its hilt seemed to pulse with an otherworldly energy. It was magnificent, dangerous, magnetic. She’d never seen anything like it in her life. The sword seemed to call to her, pulling her in with invisible strings.

Silver gleamed under the low light. A blade. Not just any blade. Old. Lunar-forged. Balanced perfectly for a hand that could both destroy and protect. Mira sucked in a breath. “That’s a Moon Relic.” “Yes.” “They were all destroyed.” “So everyone was told.” I wrapped my fingers around the hilt. The metal hummed, recognition, not resistance. “This was made to kill Devourers,” Mira whispered. “And to anchor them,” I said. Her head snapped up. “Anchor?”

As dusk approached, we finally reached the heart of the Whispering Forest. An enormous circular clearing opened before us. At its center lies a mirror-like lake. Moonlight danced across its surface despite the setting sun. And there... Rising from a black stone altar... Was the Sword of Eclipse. Its silver blade shimmered with streaks of midnight black, as though light and darkness had been forged together. The Crown upon my head glowed brilliantly. “The third relic,” Liam whispered. “We found it.” But we were not alone. A slow clap echoed through the clearing.

He slept on the floor outside my bedroom door for a week straight, a dagger under his pillow, even though we lived in a fortress guarded by men who would’ve died for us. My brothers loved me like they were afraid I might dissolve if they blinked too long. But love wasn’t enough. Not when the war had exposed what our bloodline held. Not when whispers started gathering like stormclouds: the fox line… the silver one… her mother… Fox shifters were rare in Aurelith. Rare enough to be myth to most, rumour to some, and a prize to the wrong kind of power. Foxes didn’t rule territories. They changed them.

My wolf struggled, no longer from pain, but from rage and awakening. I opened my eyes wide, and the world had changed. Everything was sharper, brighter. I could see the individual threads of power that connected each pack member. I could see them flowing to Damien and his father. But there was something else—a silver light emanating from my hands, from my skin, pulsing in time with my racing heart. “What the hell…” Alpha Thorne began, but his voice was drowned out by a thunderous roar. I looked up. The full moon, already unbearably bright, blazed like a supernova. Silver light cascaded down, touching no one else. Only me. The protective spells of the ceremonial circle broke, ancient magic sh

Three slow, rhythmic strikes. Thud. Thud. Thud. "He's here," my father whispered, his face turning a sickly shade of grey. I straightened my spine, smoothing the silk of my dress. If I was going to be led to the slaughter, I wouldn't go whimpering. I reached into the hidden pocket of my skirt and felt the small, silver dagger I kept there. It was an antique, passed down through the Vance women. It was cold, sharp, and had a history of shedding blood.

Neither reached for it. Instead… The blade divided itself. Not breaking. Separating. Two identical swords now floated before them. One carried a silver wolf engraved upon its hilt. The other… A black raven. Matteo stared in disbelief. “It changed…” Mira whispered, “It remembered.” ⸻ Alessio carefully accepted the silver-bladed sword. Leonardo instinctively caught the darker twin. The moment both brothers held their weapons… A shockwave spread throughout the cathedral. The shattered stained-glass windows repaired themselves.

It was strange. I remembered the late that he heard five winter ago. It was some fourth to fifty years ago when the last of the Ritan kings killed his own brother to take his sword. The sword that was made by the dwarven smiths for a large amount of money, the sword was made from a rear metal that the folks call star-metal. The metal itself is from a fallen star that fell some four thousand years ago. The length of the blade not including the tang was five feet and two inches. The handle was made from a rear type of tree that only grows near the dwarven forges. The weight of the blade was half a stone. The previous owner had the sword engraved with magical runes that protected and strengthen

It was filled with copper, silver and gold royals, all to help supply them while they sought out allies. After Boro said his farewell and accepted the money, he quickly made himself busy checking out the two pack horses. He wanted to give Littume and Lord Jetir space for there farewells. He saw Jetir give his son a firm hug and share a few words with him. Then he saw Lord Jetir unwrap the cloth and from it pulled out an ornate brown and gold scabbard. The scabbard was too thick to belong to a rapier, and too wide to be a katan, the long slightly curved, single edge style sword that Boro himself used. This one was as wide as the width of his palm and had two edges to it. A broadblade, an olde

The pale glow of the moon cast a haunting blue light across the snow as Chloe shivered against the bitter wind. She had no doubt the winter landscape would be a beautiful sight if it weren't for the fact she had been out in the freezing cold for hours. The tense silence around her was broken by the chatter of her own teeth and the rhythmic crunch of boots in the snow as the guards prowled around her and the fourteen other girls currently stood in the snow in nothing more than their underwear.