The Blade Itself Audiobook Free Novels & Stories

Blade came out with his usual all black clothing—a big black sweatshirt, a black baggy jean, black glasses, black face cap, black sneakers— and a revolver carefully tucked by his side. To my shock, the passenger door opened and a girl came out. She was obviously young, probably fourteen or fifteen with red hair and a round hazel eyes which peered at me through the glass of the coffee shop. I couldn’t help but wonder who she was and why Blade had decided to bring her along. They both shared words before walking towards the coffee shop. “Emily!” Blade called as he walked inside with his companion right behind him. “I’m right here,” I said waving my hands in the air to draw his attention.

“Come on, Allen! You have to remember. Tell me its name.” Allen concentrated for a long time and by each passing second, my hope faded bit by bit. No! I had to hold on. I had to get her back. I wouldn’t be able to live without Alina, not without turning into a monster. “I remember!” Allen’s voice cut through my thoughts with sudden clarity. Hope bubbled in my chest once again. “Tell me.” I urged, holding on to his hand. “The Arctic Blade,” he said.

The blade felt heavier in my hands than it should have, as though it carried the weight of every decision I was about to make. Its dark, jagged edge seemed to hum softly, a sound only I could hear, resonating in my chest like a second heartbeat. Every time I looked at it, the whispers grew louder—promises of power, freedom, and control. I was close to running mad, or so I felt. I didn’t tell Rigel or Selene what I was doing. This was my burden, my risk. I had waited until the others were asleep, the sparkling glow of our campfire masking the faint light that pulsed from the blade as I drew it from its sheath.

The sword known as the treasure of Blade's Reach was destroyed by Adrian. Hansen looked at the shattered Lunar Edge, completely stunned. The next moment, Adrian struck again with the Hellblade, which carried a killing intent that surpassed everything. The attack was about to fall on Hansen's neck.

My son was dying upstairs, and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it. After what seemed like forever, I eventually grabbed the glass and swallowed greedily. The amber liquid burned as it slid down my throat. For a moment the glass was all I had—the cool, sharp taste, the small relief it promised. I set it down, fingers steady but my lungs still tight. Suddenly, my wolf stirred, restless and pacing. *She’s here,* Blade said in my head, a low vibration that made my breath catch. *She’s heading to Liam’s room.*

I was once the Pythia, an oracle of Apollo. After marrying the late king, I became known as the Oracle Priestess. When my husband died in battle, I faked my death and returned to the temple. From then on, I devoted myself to protecting the capital with the gods' blessing. Then one day, they brought my daughter's body into the temple. She was covered in raw, unhealed wounds, and her eyes were still open. The attendants tossed her body, wrapped in nothing but a straw mat, onto the floor. Then they stood nearby whispering. "Poor princess. The king cared more about the Rose of Highcourt than his own sister. He let her suffer until her wounds became infected and she died in agony. "King Theron wa

A kick slams into the back of my knee and the ground rushes up hard enough to rattle my teeth. Weight crashes onto me instantly. Knees pinning. Hands grabbing. “Finish it!" A blade lifts above my face — sunlight flashing along its edge — And then — A roar tears across the yard. A body flies off me. Not thrown — ripped away. “STAND DOWN!” Aaron’s voice cracks across the yard like a whip. Weight lifts. Hands release. Boots scrape backward. The blade above my face disappears. I shove myself upright, breath dragging raw through my throat. Dust coats my tongue while blood runs warm down my ribs and arm.

I chipped in the update. “Two idiot friends always amalgamating the most stupid ideas” “So what do you think of it?” I was immune to her insults already. Anyone that still gets offended by it is yet to understand that harshness was Hilra’s mother tongue. She thought for a moment and turned to the door when it sounded like someone was walking past. “According to Anthonier, the blade is still with her?” “Yes. I believe it is safest in her room. No one would believe I’d leave a blade that could end me in the hands of a mistress who had barely stayed a full week”

one voice sang. “We’re already here,” the other whispered as if in my ear. And the fog began to move. I spun around, instinct taking over, and my glowing hellblade met steel. The clash rang out sharp and shrill, sparks exploding between us, lighting the fog for a split second. The impact numbed my arms all the way to the shoulders, the vibration rattling my teeth. Twin blades. Short, curved, mirror-bright daggers crossed against my sword. As I looked up, my heart froze.

He was the wealthy, arrogant playboy girls would swoon around, and also the Blade family's eldest son. "Ezekiel?” A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Ezekiel Blade,” he said. "Why are you without your glasses, freckle face?” He always mentioned his last name like he was nothing without it. But I knew that he loved the name so much as it meant people would fear him. I rolled my eyes, pulling my hand away from his grip. “Still a bully, huh? Besides, I don't wear glasses anymore, and I'm definitely not freckle face. It's Lydia Winters,” I said, mimicking his words.