Names That Mean Blade Novels & Stories

As he spoke, Fane lamented, “Unfortunately, on one occasion, he...stayed behind on the battlefield because he wanted to look for his favorite White-Sand cigarettes! As a result, I cradled him in a puddle of blood and he shoved the cigarettes into my hands and told me with a smile. He hoped that I would finish smoking that entire pack of cigarettes or else, his search would be for nothing!” Fane’s eyes gradually turned red as he spoke. He said, “He is a lot older than us and has saved countless soldier’s lives. Due to his age and since his last name being Brothers, we all called him Bro. Bro was powerful and we called him the God of Blades since his specialty was the saber. He could kill anyo

As I walked by, I found myself dragged into a headlock and a set of knuckles rubbed against the top of my scalp. "I knew you'd come around," Ace, one of the prospects, cited, blowing his blond, jaw-length hair out of his face, his blue eyes dancing with glee. He was a year older than me, having joined the club to follow in his father's footsteps. The guy standing next to him was called Blade: dark-haired, silver eyes, and deadly with a knife. Hence the name. "Let him be," Jenna berated them, casting them a humored scowl.

with a scream, Zephyr fought through the pain and opened his eyes and stared straight into the painting. “Blade, the weapon of the nobles, the greats, the kings! “Blade, the Lion of which that all follows. As elegant and free flow as water, as gentle and carefree as falling leaves, as powerful and mighty as the hills… none are greater than thee! “Earth-shatterer bows before your might, I bow before your might, help me find my true calling!” Zephyr stared at the painting, chanting to himself, “Blades, nay, swords, were my favorite weapon after all! Within this painting holds great Focus of the Blade, unrelenting and unforgiving.

Even if they would still respond if the master only used their energy. Rion's sword was named Zephyr. The 'gentle breeze', even though the attack was not anything gentle at all. It was always deadly, but with the minimum wound. This is how Rion could show a little compassion to those who fell as his enemies. A quick, merciful death.

“You’re mine.” I didn’t know what to say to that. So I didn’t say anything at all. That night, I dreamed of fire. Not destruction. Not chaos. A blade. A circle. A name I didn’t recognize whispered over and over until it etched itself into my bones. Lirae. When I woke, I was bleeding from the palm. And the war witch blade was in my hand.

It was well known amongst wolves that one slice of a blade infused with that mixture could poison and kill in seconds. I ran my hand along the poisoned blade slowly, heading down to the hilt. The hilt was studded with several red, heart-shaped jewels that sparkled under any kind of light. It was these jewels that earned it the name of HeartReaper. The sword had belonged to my father, and his father before him. Slowly, I tapped the blade against my thigh, drawing everyone's attention to it. "Who's next?" I asked coldly.

We thought we had killed them all. Rivers of blood soaked the ground and flowed between the trees in the forest south of Scarlet Moon. Torn and broken bodies littered our path as we retreated to the safety of the only pack Sebastian trusted with those most precious to him. We limped through the gates, bloody and battle weary after taking on at least five men a piece. Unbeknownst to us at the time, one man survived, Blue Blade, named for the unique and deadly weapon he wields. He is the one who sends rogues to the border, taunting me, letting me know he is still out there, waiting for me to blink so he can strike.

Crescent Blade. A famous blade passed down through centuries… Prince’s gaze locked onto it. “What is that?” Her voice softened. “Something older than the packs and any of us..” She stepped toward him, holding it carefully. “Something they buried.” “Something they feared.” The air around it felt heavier. “This blade doesn’t just kill,” she continued. “It rewrites.” Prince’s eyes narrowed slightly. She stopped in front of him as they were close now. “Stab it through your heart,” she said quietly.

Amy. “The blade was crafted based on your temperament. It is called Moonblade because you are the queen and a werewolf, but the craftsman said something about being special.” He said, and we both looked at the knife. It is special! I can feel the surge of power coming from the knife, but hearing it myself is another matter. “As much as I am unsure of what he meant, I trust him. Your energy dictates the knife. You can use it to the fullest, or you can use it as a last resort. It is your choice.” He added, and I looked at his face immediately.

They let me sharpen it and aim it and spend it, and never told me it had a history, that it had been hunted to the very edge of the world, that the same blood that makes me the King's favored blade is the blood that has been ringing across the north like an open grave since the night my son first drew breath. Theron knew. All this time, my King knew. I file the white-hot question away with the cold patience this hall seems to want from me, and I keep my face perfectly still, and I make him keep talking. "Whose hand?" Kael says. "He has had many names. The packs that still remember him call him the Pale." Theron lets the word sit.