Morgen Black Novels & Stories

Malik’s POV Morwenna stood under the moonlight, her eyes glowing faintly as she murmured to the spirits. Her hair stayed wild and unbound moving with the wind that carried things I couldn’t see. When she turned to us, her expression was grim. “They are restless.” She said, “The balance is breaking, something A has shifted in Blackthorn.” I exchanged a confused look with Eve. Her brows knit. “Shifted? What do you mean?.” She asked

“A new era. I wonder what fate has in store for us now the times have changed?” •☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾• A WEEK AFTER THE NYTH’S DEPARTURE The Alpha of the Midnight Legion sat in the office, looking at the busy and gloomy city he now owns. Thousand of ideas ran through his mind— ruthless changes, especially for the city. The Black City was already as gloomy as it was. With walls made of basalt and dark rocks, everything was just painted in either black or white, or red.

he murmurs, and I know he’s not just talking about North Crest anymore. I didn’t sleep after that. Not really. I mean, who could after that encounter?!? Even when Johanis locked the door again. Even when he checked the hallway that leads to other apartments and rooms twice. Even when he slid that black puck onto the kitchen counter like it was just an object and not a threat carved in rubber. I lay awake listening to the quiet hum of the apartment. ‘Blackmoor doesn’t just play to win. We play to break…’ The words replayed in my head until morning light bled through the curtains.

I blurted out. I bought you for a night, anyhow your bare teated shouldn't be an issue to you," he responded coldly with his deep voice, not moved by what I said. I folded my knuckles, trying to control my temper. The urge to strangle him was all over me. "The gown fits you perfectly, are you aware of that?" He smirked, coming close to me. I noticed how huge he was, tall, strong, cold, arrogant, controlling, and possessive. I could see his thick black hair styled and jelled backward, sharp chiseled jawline, dark blue eyes, and inked fingers, hands, and chest.

I question. “You’re upset about something,” he suggests gently. “My mother is really sick, and everyone’s saying she won’t live much longer, I’m scared because I don’t want to be alone. But your story did help me to not feel so bad,” I say with a small smile. “I’m sorry,” he says. “You never told me your name,” I say carefully. “My name is Neron Black. I’m a blacksmith who works in the city. What’s your name, little man?” He asks, bending down to my level.

He would have been happy if he had at least been given the weakest blade rage member but he was given him! A nobody! The new guy stood at a distance with his hands in his pocket. He had midnight black hair covering his forehead, black shirt and trouser and even black boots. His face had perfect lines and striking features. He paid no attention to his opponent and only looked at the sky. If one saw him, one would think he was posing for the All Black Magazine. Cosgrach Merger tried to analyze his opponent before rushing in. He noticed a dark steel blade strapped vertically on his opponents back. Aside from that, he did not seem to carry any other weapon.

He staggered to his feet slowly wearing a bleak expression, His features were pale and under the moonlight that infiltrated through the leaves. The woman, or rather what was left of her which was merely a heap of bones and a few scattered rotten flesh was solid evidence against him. "What is this Morgen?" Allanon's cold words sliced through the air like the crack of a whip. The tension radiating from both of them was in sizzling waves. A resigned and almost hopeless expression flashed across Morgen's features, replaced solidly by a bittered look. "What does it look like? You've been searching for me, is that not? " He responded.

Every one believed him that he was whiter than the white but by the time I am done with him, I would let everyone know how blcak he was, that he was black, blacker than any other black. Darn you Morgan! Enough is enough. You have sown many seeds. A lot of seeds. Evil and good and now it is time for you to reap the fruit of your labour but I am happy to let you know that none of the good seeds you planted germinated, so you will have to reap nothing but evil, wickedness, inconsideration, cruelty and other negative things.

Their skins turning pale, their bodies having sparse flesh atop its skeletal framework and veins turning black making them look more or like zombies. The remaining four had to find a cure for this ailment, "Black Death"; they called it, Kimora was created by them, it came with a price, killing everyone with dark matter and three of the elders died in the process, Kimora was so powerful it did the job but a little too well having a mind of its own the last Elder saw this as a threat had the Kimora gotten rid of and he vanished not to be seen again.

I am certain that some of them are grateful for my failures as they have been eyeing the title. I grab my black shirt and throw it over my grey sweatshirt, arranging my hair in the mirror. What's the use of being 5'11 at fifteen, having ocean blue eyes, and feeling worthless? I don't think I'm the only one that feels like trash but has the looks of Adonis. As I head to the council room, the entire packhouse is eerily quiet. Not a soul is found anywhere, apart from the guards at their spot. I was expecting the council room to be filled to the brim, but it's not. Just the seven council members dressed in all black sitting in the imperial hall in their usual circle.