Relic Blade Darktide Novels & Stories

I remind her again landing a kiss on her pouty lips, she smiles and blushes a pretty pink color that makes her look even younger than she is, I get my purse and get ready to leave, Elle, wave goodbye to me. I make it toward the parking and to my car, I open the trunk and check that I have everything I need, my gun, tracking devices, my safe line, my laptop, then finally my favourite part, my kit. I have a full torture and extraction kit, including some small knives that vary in size, my favourite knife, my first purchase, it was more for good luck than usage, next I had to sever pliers for different reasons, some to extract teeth, others for fingernails. Finally, I had a few hammers, my favo

Belief. I had given all three. The scars lived on my skin. My mind held the names of those who died in divine silence. My faith had fractured under what I had seen—but I stayed. And tonight, I would give more. I stepped onto the dais and lifted the ceremonial dagger—the Black Blade. Not forged metal, but obsidian fused with the bones of priestesses who had died mid-prophecy, minds split by divine madness. It could cut through flesh… and fate. I drew it across my palm again, deeper than before. My blood struck the altar and hissed.

“And now that it’s awake…” Anya finished the thought. “So is the blade.” The blade. The Guardian stepped back, revealing a pedestal. Upon it—an ancient weapon. Half silver, half obsidian. Alive with power. The Bladeborn’s soul-forged dagger. Elara reached for it. It hummed in her palm. The moment her skin touched the hilt, a pulse spread out—through the cave, through the mountains, through her bond with Lerder. And they both had a vision. Shared Vision:

The blade was forged from a darkened titanium alloy that didn't reflect a single stray beam of light. My blade. The weapon of the Ghost. I had retrieved it from my old, buried lockbox two nights ago. Using it was a massive risk, but in the dark, against the Vances, I needed the absolute certainty of my old life. The first enforcer stepped around the metal container, his assault rifle raised. Before he could even register the shadow in front of him, I lunged forward. My left hand clamped violently over his mouth, muffling his scream, while my right hand drove the dark dagger cleanly between his ribs, striking the heart with mathematical, instantaneous precision.

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?”

She shook her head in response to Blade’s questioning stare and tightened her lips to show how much she disapproved of it. I was left confused as to why Blade was requiring the old lady’s permission to reveal whatever was bothering him to me. I placed my other hand on our intertwined hands. “Please tell me, I am tired of being left in the dark. You just asked me to trust you and I do, why can’t you trust me?” His eyes met mine again and he leaned down to kiss my palm. “I trust you.” “Then tell me.” The old lady was seething inwards but Blade ignored her. “I have a condition.” He began. “I… I am somehow cursed.”

It looked dangerous… sacred… and strangely familiar. “The Blade of Tenebris,” I murmured, recalling the words I’d once tried so hard to forget. “It cuts not flesh, but spirit. A single strike leaves enemies hollow, their will severed. It was quenched in the Void during the First Apex War. Every wielder leaves behind a fragment of their soul.”

he cries. I lunge the knife into the left side of his stomach. He screams in pain. I did it again on his upper right. “Help! Mum! Dad!” Lockie screams. “Goodnight, sleep tight.” I whisper. I quickly slash his throat and leave. I head back to Dead Man’s Woods. I’ve completed my revenge for now. Until someone else crosses paths with me I’ll stay hidden. Saunders house: The front door flings open and the security lights light up. A young boy runs out covered in blood and keeps collapsing. He holds his hand to his throat and the other on his stomach.