The Blackened Blade Book 3 Novels & Stories

He gestured at me. "You can't kill me, Silas. I own this fucking city... and I will get back everything you shitheads took from me." His smile dropped. "I will end The Black Rose..." he seethed. "One petal at a time." He laughed. "Isn't that exciting?" He put his hands in his pockets and turned around, not caring about the gun being aimed at his back. Lorenzo and Noir were behind Silas, along with several men that hadn't been there before, pointing their guns at the opposing men.

I shouted. I stepped out from behind Rowan. The obsidian blade in my hand felt different now. It wasn't just a heavy piece of stone. It was light, almost weightless, and it thrummed with the soft, white light of the girl I had seen in the warehouse. It was the **Blade of the Unsaid**. Every word I had swallowed, every dream I had put aside for the sake of survival, every "I love you" that had been lost in the roar of battle—it was all there, feeding the light. Vane pivoted, his liquid form spinning like a drill. He ignored Rowan and came for me. He was fast—too fast for a human to track. He was a blur of silver and shadow.

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.

Black magic surges, a void-like wave slamming into Kaelen. He freezes, eyes glazing, sword trembling in his grip. “Kaelen?” I call, heart lurching. He turns, stormy eyes blank, now glowing with an eerie purple haze. The novel’s pull, amplified by black magic. He roars, charging me, blade aimed for my heart. “No!” I dodge, rolling across jagged rocks, pain shooting through my ribs. Kaelen’s rampaging, sword slashing wildly, eyes unseeing but locked on me.

"The moment Blake chose me, Elena became irrelevant. So, I just made sure she understood that." “You are evil and I hope you get what you deserve,” I stood up and walked away. I played the recording for Blake that night. He listened in silence and even when the recording ended, he didn’t move. He roared. The sound that came out of him wasn't werewolf. It was raw, primal, the howl of a predator who'd just lost everything and needed something to destroy. "Where is she?" His voice was barely recognizable. "Where is Lydia?" "Blake—"

A single bedside lamp casts dim, amber shadows across his sharp features. Not wanting to disturb him if he has drifted off, Miss Yachina hesitates near the threshold. "Come in," his command echoes through the quiet room. Ethan opens his eyes and sits up. Miss Yachina approaches, placing the tray on the nightstand. As she does, her eyes catch sight of dark red, dried blood smeared across his right palm. "Alpha! Your hand is bleeding!" she gasps in horror. "I'm fine," Ethan says, taking a small sip of the broth. His posture appears relaxed, but his tone carries an unmistakable edge of steel. "Do not mention a single word of this to Collins."

He smiled, the pain started to leave him as his knees got weak, he touched the blade, wrapping his hand around it and pulling it out of his chest. As the blade left his chest a river of blood began to flow out and he crashed to his knees. Mallory crashed to her knees, her hands going to her shoulders. “No. No. No. No.” Mallory begged as tears began to slip down her cheeks. A loud roar of an engine from the entrance of the courtyard. Headlights beaming out over the dark courtyard as Adam and the hunters began to unload out of cars. They were too late.

I looked down to see my own blood, pooling over the open pages of the book given to me by the sprites, a blade with black diamonds on the hilt and a large deep red ruby sitting inside a metal frame at the base of the handle, protruded from my stomach. Gasping I could feel my life fade away, I took one last look to see that Joshua had been ran through, his lifeless body laid crumpled on the cold bloody ground. I could hardly recognize the scream of terror that escaped my lips before I felt my life leave my body. Draven.

Not yet. “Seraph, fall back!” I roared, cutting down another enemy. “Protect the others!” She hesitated, her eyes finding mine for a brief, agonizing moment. Then she nodded and retreated, her motions fast and purposeful. I turned back to face Blackthorn, my grip tightening on my blade. This was it. The battle for our survival has begun. And I would see it through to the end—no matter the cost. The clang of steel and the cry of wolves filled the night as we fought for our lives. I pressed forward, my body moving on instinct, every strike powered by desperation and determination. Blackthorn’s laughter resonated across the turmoil, a terrible reminder of the darkness we faced.

Their piercing, unnatural shrieks echoed agonizingly across the entire isolated island, vibrating the very marrow of those who stood below. The final, world-altering battle had officially begun. Killian stepped firmly to the absolute front of the line, his majestic silver wolf spirit standing taller and more radiant than ever before in his life. Brilliant moonfire danced wildly along his thick black fur, and the legendary Blade of the First Alpha blazed with an blinding, celestial light that cut through the encroaching gloom. Behind him stood Seraphina, Aiden, Leo, Freya, Kael, Orion, and the few remaining battle-hardened warriors of the Blackthorn vanguard. No one retreated a single pace. N