Six Blade Knife Lyrics Novels & Stories

Sabrina’s voice rang out again, her chant gaining momentum. Asher took the knife first, the blade slicing through his skin with practiced ease. I followed, the sting barely registering over the roar of the flame. As our blood dripped into the Pack Soul, the flame leaped, silver sparks erupting into the sky with a force that took my breath away. The wind howled around us now, swirling the sparks like stars in the night. I could feel the energy building, thick and almost suffocating, but exhilarating at the same time. Sabrina’s chants quickened, her voice sharp and commanding.

I pressed the blade to his skin, not cutting, not yet, just letting him feel the cold promise of it His lips twisted into a grin as he stared deep into my eyes, no hint of fear In his eyes. I clicked my tongue, dragging the blade down his skin just enough to split him, my teeth gritted as I dug it deeper into his skin just above the place he had a wound. His scream ripped through the room, and it was like a sweet music to my ears

“I’ll make you regret that.” He pressed the knife to Lowel’s throat, letting the cold metal scrape against his skin. He watched the terror bloom behind Lowel’s eyes—wide, pleading, pitiful. Drystan laughed softly, a sound without humor. A sound that chilled the blood. “You’ll die in pieces. Slowly. Just like you deserve.” With that, he sliced along Lowel’s chest, cutting through the thin shirt and into his skin. The blade opened him like paper. Lowel screamed again, a rasping, broken howl that echoed against the walls.

Alejandro said as though he was having a normal conversation causing Blade's eyes to widen. Slaughter walked towards Blade, and before Blade could fathom what Slaughter was about to do, he found his thumb in Slaughter's hands, throwing it up and down as though it was some kid's toy. "Argh!!!!" Blade yelped in pain as his blood poured on the floor. His eyes closed as he couldn't stand the sight of his own blood or his thumb in Slaughter's hands looking like some toy. "He is not sharper than my blades," Slaughter confirmed and bowed on the floor before walking out with wishes that he would get called again.

she muttered under her breath. “You left it in the trap, didn’t you?” Vega’s voice cut through the moment, sharp and accusing. “Crap!” Hennia smacked her forehead in frustration, her shoulders slumping. “We can’t use another knife! The Blade of Septem is the only one that works!”

The blade gleamed under the weak light, sharp and merciless. Soren’s blood froze. “TRAVIAN!” he screamed, voice cracking. The knife arced through the air and slashed across Travian’s ribs, tearing fabric, spilling red. Travian staggered back, blood dripping in rivulets down his side. But instead of collapsing, he roared—a sound so primal it made the walls tremble. He caught Dain’s wrist mid-swing, twisting it until bone cracked and the blade clattered against the ground, spinning to a stop at Soren’s feet.

The metal glowed faintly from the heat. I stepped closer to Roberto. “So,” I said quietly, my voice dropping lower, colder. “You planned on touching my woman with this?” His body started shaking violently. I could smell the fear on him. I liked that. I pressed the blade lightly against him. Then sliced. Just a little. A loud, broken scream exploded from his throat. I grinned. Music. Pure music. But I wasn’t done. Not even close. I moved the knife upward. Then with one swift motion…

My voice was raw, empty, nothing but pain. I reached into my bag and pulled out a silver blade. The silver glinted under the corridor light. Cruel and perfect. Their eyes widened. "No! Erica, stop!" Chris surged forward, his arm outstretched. But it was too late. In one swift, terrible motion, I dragged the blade across my throat. Their screams tore through the hall. "No!" The world tilted. My knees buckled. Warmth gushed down my neck, seeping into my clothes.

A mistake, made on purpose, an opening left for it to take. And when it takes it I am already moving into the space its certainty left behind, and the Phantom Blade goes in under the jaw, up, into the place where the source sits, and I pour everything I am burning down the length of the titanium and into the thing that wears my face. It does not scream. It has no fear to scream with. The body folds, slow, my own features going slack on it, and as it goes down it looks up at me with my dimming eyes, and it uses the last of my stolen voice, and what it says is the worst wound of the whole night.

"On your knees, traitor." With my hands up, I slowly bent my knees, feeling the weight of the pocket knife strapped to my thighs. A few meters to the ground, I unstrapped the knife on my thighs with a threatening look as I said, "This knife is made of silver," I gritted, holding it out. "A little stab is all it takes, and poof... you're gone." "Let's try that again, shall we?" I said with fiery eyes. "Let. Me. Go."