Sealed Sword Novels & Stories

Sheila, Leo and Phidian stood by quietly as they watched Liam walked back to a closet which they did not know had been there because its door blended in well with the walls, he reached in and brought out his sword, unsheathing it to look at the blade, it glimmered in the dark, catching the beams of moon light that filtered in through the window.

He stuttered. "Huh?" I asked dumbfounded. "The sword....i- it's not a knife, it's a katana sword. They are very sharp and can be quite lethal. If you don't know how to hold it, you can get seriously hurt. I'm sorry miss, but if you don't hold a permit for it, I can not allow you to keep it."

A longsword from a weapon rack not far away unsheathed and flew into his hand. The movement was so smooth, he looked very cool. There was a coldness on the sword as he held it. Everyone who could sense the chill from the sword subconsciously shuddered. "A good sword," Harvey praised. "Unfortunately, it had a bad user." Shingen almost couldn't control his breathing after hearing Harvey's words. He pointed the sword at Harvey. "This sword is 50 inches long, forged from Arctic Steel. It has poison… Anyone it slashes will die! Take this!"

It smelled of truth. Kaelen moved with a grim, determined purpose, stripping off his fine tunic and replacing it with a simple leather jerkin. He chose his sparring blade, not the ornate, weighted sword of ceremony, but a plain, well-worn steel longsword that felt like an extension of his own arm. Its balance was perfect, its grip familiar, a solid, unyielding reality in a world that had become a nightmare of whispers and silence.

She just shakes her head at him and he lets her move to me. “This blade is a very special blade. It will do the job.” She hands me the Katana. I step back, my hands on the handle and the sheath. The sheath is black and purple with a dragon that wraps around the full length of it. Its mouth open facing the handle of the sword. I remove the sword and hand the sheath to her. I hold the sword up, looking at the steel. The blade is clean and sharp, it glistens under the light. I walk to Gianni. I stand at his side. I raise the sword in my hands, turning my body, adjusting my feet.

With a sudden surge of power, Sable lunged forward, swinging the sword with all her might. The blade sliced through the air, cutting through the evil with a resounding clash. The clash reverberated throughout the cathedral, sending shards of malevolence scattering across the floor. The evil entity recoiled, shocked by Sable's defiance. Its form faltered, momentarily disrupted by the light emanating from the sword. Weakened and vulnerable, it pressed back against the encroaching evil, desperately attempting to regain its strength.

“Alright, I hope you remember what I said.” Both climbed onto the duel arena, standing a few meters apart. Danial gripped his sword—the one Elysia had given him. It was unassuming, simple in design, without any grand embellishments. In contrast, Egbert’s longsword gleamed under the hall’s lights, its meteoric steel forging an undeniable air of dominance. One and a half meters of finely crafted destruction, built to slice through opponents with precision and overwhelming force. The murmurs of the crowd grew louder.

He still had a scar over his left eye where the wineglass she hurled at him shattered too close for safety. Rhychard glanced down at the Guardian Sword in his numb hand. The blade had returned to cold bronze. The broadsword, his inheritance from a dying elf, had an intricate design of vines engraved around the edges. Faeries cross, a stone resembling the bark of an ancient pine, encased the pommel. The stone supposedly helped him to draw upon the elemental magic around him, protecting him against the Void and its denizens. The Guardian Sword held the memories and skills of a dozen previous Warriors who wielded the blade before him. He wondered if the Seelie knew the number thirteen was bad l

The white-haired and white-browed young man had unsheathed his long sword. It was a strange long sword that was as clear as jade. One flank of the sword was the cutting edge, and the other flank was a sharp sawteeth-shaped edge. The blade was long and narrow, and it looked like a beam of silver light when it shook. Every time it shook, a beam of light shot out from it like a fierce tiger coming out of a box. Swoosh! Swoosh! Swoosh! Swoosh!

Sephora sheathed her new sword at her side, now dressed in her new armor, that was a lot more robust than her usual leather. Glancing over at her mate, who sheathed his own sword, before mounting his dark brown stallion. Sephora allowed a heart-beat of pride to bubble through, at the sight of him in his armor atop his warhorse, before she mounted her own. She'd been given a pitch black stallion, who impatiently stomped and scrapped his hooves on the cobble-stones, eager to ride into battle.