Red Scythe Novels & Stories

Ruth caught his ankle in mid-air, digging her sharp fangs into it with all she had. The soldier screamed, and his screams filled the air as blood poured from his ankle. Ruth would not let go, shaking it with all she had, and the soldier’s expression, so haughty a moment before, now turned to one of fear. He reached down, into his scabbard, and extracted his sword. He lifted it high and prepared to bring it down on Ruth’s back. That was when Scarlet felt it. It was like a force taking over her body, as if another power, another entity, were inside her. Without realizing what she was doing, she suddenly burst into action. She couldn’t control it, and she didn’t understand what was happening.

Mathin parried. And suddenly Scy was there, a katana-like energy blade weaving like St. Elmo’s fire, interfering with the monster’s blade and luring it away while Mathin freed himself. Balanced on one foot, Mathin withdrew his own gun and stood ready to aid should Scy need it.

Like👍 before reading please. . 💔Hidden Scars💔 (Pain within😭) . . ✏Written By: _____Authoress Kamara✍_____ . . 😍Episode 15😍 . . 🌹Natasha🌹 I turned to see Reece coming out from another entrance and he looked hot like sincerely, he looked hot. He wore grey jeans and white shirt which displayed across his chest revealing taut muscles. Is it me or does he look more cuter with his hair curled backwards?

I block, but I feel my bones crack under the intense force. I jump back, recalling the scythe and healing my hands. Erebus didn’t give me that luxury. He grabbed my arm and smashed me into the ground. It shattered and cracks tore through the ground for miles. My whole body erupted in pain, as I gritted my teeth and waited. Erebus' eyes glowed again, this time a fiery red. This is different. Disintegration. Oh dear. “Come on...” The red glowing eyes grew brighter and brighter like twin red suns. Then I heard the sound of metal tearing and the eyes stopped getting bigger. I looked down to see the tip of the scythe going through his chest. Immediately, he was pulled back into the air, and he s

He looked exactly like Eryx, but without the scars, without the iron, and without the Carnal Hunger that made my own blood sing. He didn't hold a scepter or a scythe; he held a Scalpel made of First Alpha’s Rib, its blade a needle of Absolute Redaction that held the power to "Fix" any soul into a permanent, static sanity. "Eryx," I whispered, but the name tasted like cold salt. He didn't look at me with hunger; he looked at me with Assessment. He held the scalpel with the casual grace of a surgeon preparing for a routine excision.

“You shouldn’t have interrupted, human girl.” Found herself in a place where she could not escape, her glasses shatters in the process, leaving her to see the real world where she hated, scared off, but fought against. The sky and everything around her stop along with time, yet tainted with the sin of the mixed black, and red hue of its family line and colors. An eerie steps echoes, coming forward to where she stands, as a silhouette is getting clearer, with the prominent scythe in a clear image. “Well, well, well, look who do we have here?”

Damon rubbed his eyes. He wanted to believe that. It was stupid, really. If this whole thing with talking was just meant to get him to drop his guard, then it was working. Wasn’t he smarter than this? He tried to pull his anger and hate forward, to shield himself from unfortunate emotions—but he was so tired of being angry. He sighed as he turned toward her. "How many witches are in Scanthin ?” “I only know about one,And that is me Scarlett." Scar murmured, holding herself tightly.Damon advanced on her and she backed into the wall, staring up at him with wide eyes. “Why should I believe you?”

It was looking for an opportunity to stop Adrian and Rozi's joint attack. The black scythe emanated with an air of death. It felt even colder than the air around them. A faint black aura could be seen around the scythe, seemingly made out of a singular soul locked within. The soul shrieked and wailed in pain. The scythe thirsted for human life, and it would lock the soul it reaped within itself for an eternity of suffering.

If words were exchanged, Ru couldn’t hear them, and she watched as Cutter raised his hands and sent streaks of blue into the air, aimed at Nat’s face. Raising his scythe, Nat reflected the light, sending it harmlessly into the tops of the trees. Cutter recoiled and tried again, shooting short bursts this time. Nat reflected each of them, moving his scythe from one target to the next, blocking the bolt aimed for his shoulder, then his knee and his opposite side. Twirling his scythe in front of him, he swung it at Cutter, who jumped out of the way just in time. Ru watched, fascinated, as Cutter used his light to form an equally long weapon, this one a glowing blue, and the two locked in arms a

Our parents are used to our banter. “I see Mom gave you your gift. Well, let me give you my gift.” Dad says with a grin as he waves his hand, and shadows swarm around his hand. When the shadows disappear, there is a war scythe in his hands. It’s almost identical to his. Except where his has black details, mine has dark purple. The top part of the blade has jimpings as the blade curves toward where it meets the staff; it has dark purple bone-like fragments sticking from it. On the bottom of the staff, there is a badass-looking skull with purple jeweled eyes. “It’s time you had your own war scythe for reaping souls.”