Scythe Theme Novels & Stories

He didn't offer a bribe. He stared at the man with the cold, dead eyes of Wraith—the top killer on the server. Say a word, and you go in the chute. The message was clear. The skeletal man gulped. He looked away, trembling. He went back to sorting. "I saw nothing," he whispered. QUEST UPDATED: LOOT ACQUIRED: Encrypted Slate (Rare). RISK LEVEL: Extreme. TIME: 19:00 HOURS. LOCATION: THE SCRAPYARD GATES.

0064: The New Nightingale 0065: SIDE STORY PART ONE 0066: SIDE STORY PART TWO _______ Arc 3: Reaper's Scythe Is A Scissor?! Update: Ongoing "Yow! Sinful soul, how about you behave for a little while for my scythe to bring you to the underworld peacefully?" I grinned as I took out my grim kiddie size scissors with the host's favourite cartoon character. The soul I encountered was flabbergasted at first but then started to laugh after, "Pft! You call that a scythe? What? You gonna rip my soul or cut my hair instead?! I bet that's safety scissors only enough to cut a paper! Hahaha!"

The darkness loomed around them like a cloak. Sekhmet carried an old-fashioned torch he pulled from a hole in the wall to light the way. It was a bit theatric and unnecessary, considering vampires and werewolves alike could see in the dark. But it set the mood for torture nicely; causing shadows to dance across the walls. A bleeding.

The screen flashed with mocking symbols and a progress bar showing the data extraction in real time, accompanied by taunting messages from foreign hackers. "What—what do I do?! I don't know how to handle this!" Her voice cracked as she stared helplessly at the screen. "It's over," Julian muttered, his voice hollow. "It's all over." Watching the data drain away, he swayed unsteadily, realizing just how doomed he was. In desperation, his gaze fell on me, standing calm and composed to the side. A spark of hope flickered in his eyes as he yanked me toward the computer. "Skye! You know this stuff—you can fix it, right?"

Kyler is already making contingency plans. I turn my full attention to Sydney. She was breathing heavy, caked in blood, sweat, and dirt, clenching her jaw and eyes closed. She was doing everything in her power to hold the heat back and not endanger anyone or start mating with me in front of everyone. I crouch and touch her cheek. Her eyes fly open, and I think they are a shade lighter than usual. “Thora, give Syd control until we get back to the packhouse.” She nods back in response. I pick her up in a bridal carry. There’s nothing wrong with her legs; I just want to hold her close.

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.”

No one would suspect you and they would usually talk and act recklessly in front of you. “The weapon,” It was a scythe. A retractable scythe that could tear heavy metals like paper and pierce through anything even the soul. Using it, they can open treasures long-buried and kill anyone like nobody's business. It's a precious little thing. And it's in the rightful and very capable hands. Me. •••

Wearing a blue dress, her delicate features resembled Thea’s. The moment she walked over to Sophie, she noticed the bizarrely-shaped scythe in front of Sophie. For some reason, she could feel a sense of familiarity with the scythe. Upon being reminded of the scythe within her body, her mind stirred, and a scythe materialized before her. Immediately, the it flew forward and blocked the bizarrely-shaped scythe that intended to deal Sophie the killing blow.

POV DARLENE The Loom-Centinel was a geometric nightmare, its eight limbs moving with a high-speed, arachnid precision that defied the natural laws of a wolf’s hunt. As it lunged through the silver static of the processing floor, its "Optimization-Scythes" hummed with a cyan frequency that literally erased the shadows from the floor. It wasn't just trying to kill us; it was trying to Tidy us—to remove the "Messy" reality of our defiance from the pristine grid of the Twenty-Sixth Cycle.

Due to how long vampires lived, I've been living using different identities in different countries to avoid human's suspicion. “Oh brother, you should at least welcome me with more enthusiasm,” Sebastian said sarcastically. Then and there, I felt like plummeting him to death with my claws. “Cut the crap! Why are you here?” I asked, getting more pissed. My idiot of a stepbrother noticed this but took it as a cue to anger me further and in the blink of an eye, the office was scattered and the only things that were head was the breaking and shattering of things and our heavy breathing.