Sword Master Seal Novels & Stories

A rush of wind came blowing in, taking up my hair in the air. I listened, the village was wrapped in silence, save for the occasional whisper of wind. It was quiet, asleep. Peaceful. But I wasn't a part of that peace... my bones still clanged when they remembered the fire. The screams. The hill of skull and bones. The blood. Who was he? The seal in his hand was unmistakable. The same Aurora's Seal I have been told of. The same sword Luca wields. What was this? I can't forget the aura surrounding him—it was darker than anything I had ever felt. Not evil… not exactly. But ancient. Raw. Unforgiving. Daunting.

Bandit yelled loudly. Weasel was in the boxing ring, stripped down to his briefs, his fists taped up and looking ready to wreak havoc. Jake could tell that his mind was in the right place. He had just the right amount of violence and chaos brewing in his eyes. Goat was pulled into the gym and a moment of relief flickered in his eyes when he saw Wrath standing on the sidelines. Dagger pushed him closer and kicked him in the lower back when he didn’t move fast enough. Nobody would have any empathy with him.

"Jack wolf, please!" With a surge of adrenaline, Jack Wolf summoned every last ounce of strength. The spear shone brighter, its power surging through him like a river of light. Eryndor's eyes widened in surprise as Jack Wolf's grip tightened, the spear's tip pressing deeper into his chest. The dark magic swirling around him began to falter. Eryndor stood on his ground. The air was electric with the clash of steel and the scent of sweat and blood. Eryndor's Shadowing dagger seemed to dance in the moonlight, its dark blade slicing through the air with a haunting screee-ksss.

I didn't say a thing but the panic that resonated through me was enough to be sensed by the wolves outside. And just like a blur, I felt Sage's hard grip on my fist his claws deepening into my skin. "Please" I growled out in pain. "You can't hurt me even if you tried to, I'll heal eventually the pain would only last for some time and that's it but yours, think about yourself Please. Let me help you, you'll be fine, just let" I was cut of by yet another growl that escaped from my lips. He deepened his claws his stare not leaving my eyes for a split as though he was enjoying the site of my pain.

We didn't even inform our parents. Instead, we had a simple ceremony in our rented apartment. I wore a wedding gown and married the love of my life. However, he didn't pull out a ring from amidst the bouquet—he pulled out a sharp fruit knife. The blade slashed against my skin, making my blood flow. I heard him repeating, "Why is life so unfair to me? Why?" This was my wedding night, which I'd dreamed of countless times since childhood. I spent two hours of it lying in a pool of blood as Liam stabbed me over 160 times. Each stab avoided my critical organs.

I gazed into his dark eyes, staring distinctively at the tides of fear. How had he gotten his right hand cut despite the amount of people here? Such a fatal cut that kept dripping had to either be new or have a very strong technique attached to it. “Kyle,” I grabbed him by the hand. He groaned, the cut now glowing with flames emanating from his flesh. I smelled sword aura; flame sword aura to be precise. It was rare and could only be harnessed by elemental, rare, and strong wolves who had ki and could beat the heat produced.

"All of you, form the blade formation! Defend the Order!" Lyra finally shook off her shock and regret. She drew her sword and shouted out commands. Yet their strength was pitifully small before that ancient monster. The barrier the three elders raised together held for less than three breaths before it webbed over with cracks, on the verge of breaking. The blade formation the others threw together was torn apart by a single soundwave. Many vomited blood where they stood and were flung backward through the air. The whole Ashveil Order teetered on the edge of ruin.

She wanted to cry badly. How would she forget him? The question was making her head spin. She had never felt this way for any boy before. "I want you to keep this." He was holding the platinum band in his hand. "I can't," she backed off. "Please." She looked at him, he too looked in pain. The sun had begun to set and there were clouds floating in the sky. He forwarded the band and she took it and noticed that there were small engravings in it. She brought it close and noticed Minahil Miss Khan was engraved on it in a cursive writing.

“You’re right, Isolde. I shouldn’t let fear hold me back. I’ll speak to the elders and let them know my intentions.” Isolde smiled, proud of Constantine’s resolve. “That’s the spirit, my dear. I’ll be here to support you every step of the way.” As Constantine made her decision, a sense of empowerment filled her. She realized that it was time to step out of the shadows and into her own destiny, a destiny that was uniquely hers to shape. With Isolde’s guidance and the support of her coven, she was ready to embrace the challenges and opportunities that lay ahead on her path to becoming the Supreme Sorcerer.

“A very powerful witch. I’m sure you’ll meet her and her mate Ezra soon enough. Jamison brought out a scabbard and Ard’al pulled a beautifully made broad sword. The wooden handle was etched and the blade was engraved with symbols he didn’t understand. “The sword is spelled and blessed”, Ard’al said. Rainn took the blade from his hand and couldn’t believe how well balanced it was. “You start training using that tomorrow”, Ard’al called as he headed out the door.