Oblivion Bound Armor Novels & Stories

Boom. A cloud of crimson mist and dissipating shadow where he’d stood. The force of the backlash knocked me back a step, a wave of profound weakness washing over me. The magnificent armor shimmered, then unlatched itself from my body, hanging in the air before me like a ghost before I willed it back into my inventory.

Physical traits. My hand moved without thinking, brushing lightly against the side of my ear. I had always been told I was human. I had believed it, because there had never been anything to question. But now, standing here, reading this, it didn’t feel like the truth anymore. It felt like something I had been made to believe. I swallowed, my throat dry as I forced myself to keep reading. Such bindings require a blood anchor. Only one of the same bloodline, most often the mother, may cast a seal strong enough to hold royal magic for extended years. The cost is great, and the spell cannot be undone by the caster once completed.

His gaze swept the room, then locked on the other two who emerged from the darkness. Timmy and Aaron. Both armed. They wore only sweatpants, barefoot, and yet they looked far too dangerous to be just boys waking up in the middle of the night. Timmy had a furrowed brow, messy hair, and the pistol steady in his grip. Aaron, beside him, had an alert glint in his eyes, as if adrenaline had burned away any trace of sleep. And then, at the top of the stairs, Ghost appeared. Unlike the others, he wore a black shirt that seemed tailored to hug every one of his muscles. He held his gun with the same ease as holding a glass of water. His eyes were hard, metallic, scanning every detail of the scene.

As Helena left the council room, her mind was racing with thoughts of the task ahead. She knew that hunting Drake would be no easy feat, and that she needed to prepare herself mentally and physically for the challenge. The first thing she did was visit the armory. She needed to make sure she had the right weapons for the job. She selected a set of silver stakes, a crossbow with silver-tipped bolts, and a short sword with a silver-coated blade. These were her preferred weapons for vampire hunting, and she knew she could trust them to get the job done.

They were circling. Alya felt the pull deep in her chest—an echo. A call. It wasn’t just the sword they were after. It was her blood. Her lineage. Her soul. --- The largest of the creatures stepped from the smoke. Not like the others. Human-shaped. Wearing old armor cracked by time. No eyes. Just a carved mask over its face… and a crown of thorns atop its skull. Lucien froze. “That’s not a guardian.” “What is it?” He didn’t answer.

The chains might be reforged. The cloaked woman seemed to realize what was happening. Her face darkened. “If you forge a seal here, it will be irreversible. The Council’s binding glyphs will lose their reach. Your bonds will go unchecked.” “Our bonds will go uncontrolled,” Sariah corrected. “There’s a difference.” She turned back toward the glyphs that had bloomed around her. The Veinlight responded to her presence, flickering brighter, more alive than ever. It was ready. It was listening.

“It’s about your lineage. Your family has been connected to these creatures for generations. There’s a prophecy about a girl who could change the balance of power between the packs. They believe you’re the one.” I stared at him, feeling the ground shift beneath my feet. “A prophecy? This is insane. I don’t even know what you’re talking about.” Ronan’s expression was grim. “I know it sounds crazy. But this is the reality we’re dealing with. And if we don’t figure out a way to stop them, they’ll continue to hunt you. They’ll stop at nothing to get what they want.” I sank down onto the old, dusty bed, trying to process everything he had said. “What are we supposed to do?”

Despite my reluctance to make him a warrior, his eagerness to stand with us in battle was undeniable, prompting me to make him my right-hand man. In the dead of night, my warriors and I stood vigilant on the expansive plains of our land. Recent attacks by a mysterious breed of Lycans had left us on edge. These creatures were unlike any we had ever faced, and their fighting skills were different; their ability to camouflage and mask their scents made them nearly invisible until they struck. Driven by a thirst for blood, they posed a threat we had never imagined. We didn't know when they infiltrated our pack. It was Soren who found a way to identify them, revealing their presence among us. Unl

My arms held out as a silent Null attendant tightened the straps across my chest. Snap. The buckle dug into my ribs. "Too tight," I gasped. "It needs to be tight," Barzil's voice rumbled from behind me. "Loose gear catches on debris. If you get snagged in the Foundry, you die." He walked around me. Inspecting the fit with a critical eye. He was already fully armored—a mountain of black steel and red cape. He looked terrifying. He looked like the monster the mothers in the Dregs used to frighten their children into silence.

Lucien said, his voice strained. "This is absurd. Sera's been working with me to prevent violence, not cause it. The bond—""The bond makes you vulnerable to manipulation," Matthias interrupted. "I warned you about this. Mate bonds can cloud judgment, make you trust when you shouldn't. She's been playing you since the beginning." "No."