The Blade Itself Audiobook Novels & Stories

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.

you unmade me. "The blade demands blood," a voice whispered beneath the agony—Cael’s voice. Guiding. Twisting. Smiling". My senses collapsed—numb, deadened—swallowed by the silence of submission. Yet again, I was not Henry. Not anymore. Just the Blade. Just ruin it in a man’s shape. It laughed through me—mad, broken, triumphant—as I watched from behind a prison of bone and blood, begging to be free, even as the monster and still, I raised my hands—because the Blade still wasn’t done. It wanted more destruction, more chaos, more blood.

“Keep lying to yourself.” I hum, reaching into my coat pocket. My fingers close around the blade I always carry. “And that's the reason you kidnapped him from his home?” I pull the blade out, staring at the sharp edges. “I'm giving you one last chance before I pull your goddamned insides out.” His breath catches. The color drains from his face when I swipe the blade in the air. It's not the kind of blade that cuts, it peels. It's thin, sharp, surgical. Thinking about the amazing things I'll do with this blade makes my lips curl into a small smile.

The man's daughter, tiptoed as he bent over for her to reach Axe, her small fingers reaching out to touch Axe's bruised arm, whispered, "It's okay, mister. Papa will take care of you." ‘I came here to find a kid to raise into an indomitable bodyguard that will be loyal to you for life, and yet you chose such a weakling and useless thing?’ Chairman Blade thought, staring down at Axe and then at the worried way his daughter glanced at him, her tiny hand holding onto hid dirty ones as tears trickled down her peachy cheeks.

“My pleasure.” He pushed off. The sound of his blades carving the silence was the loudest noise in the building. It was a rhythmic, mesmerizing hiss of steel on ice. He started with incredible speed, a red and black blur against the white. I watched, fighting a tide of purely carnal admiration.

It commanded a respect he was unwilling to give to anything else. The end came not from a master stroke, but from the ground. Leigh stepped back onto a loose stone, her ankle twisting. She stumbled, her guard faltering for a crucial second. Makil's blade swept in, hooked hers, and wrenched it from her grasp. It flew through the air, landing with a dull thud in the dirt. He stood over her, his sword point hovering near her chest. They were both gasping, steam rising from their bodies in the cold air.

A taunting voice mocks right behind me. I stop moving when something cold presses against my cheek. A blade. “It is a sound of victory for me… and defeat for you.” My chest tightens. I can’t breathe. “Don’t ever forget it, Chane.” My vision shakes. “I am always watching you.” The blade slides across my skin. Deliberate. Warm blood follows. And clink, the knife drops to the ground, footsteps pound heavily as the chains begin to fade. The sound disappears. The fire dies.

He reaches across me and grabs my hand, slipping something into it and in a low voice that's almost too quiet to hear he says, "This will help your thirst. Use it wisely and sparingly and don't let it get into anyone else's hands. It is meant only for a Locke. Do you understand me?" I nod and softly say, "Yes sir." The door opens up and Arthur tells me, "You can do this." Blade clears his throat and I turn back to face him. His presence is always so intimidating. His long black hair isn't pulled back tonight and instead frames his face. His burgundy eyes roam over me as if he's trying to silently assess if I'm okay. But just as fast as he looked at me, he's now looking away. He's brooding as

I pressed my fingers to her name and whispered a vow with my breathless tongue. I would not vanish. I left the library with more weight in my chest, but less doubt in my steps. I passed through the armory, past polished steel and ceremonial weapons meant for show, not war. But in the corner, half-covered in shadows, I found a blade that hadn’t been touched in decades. A thin rapier, forged in obsidian and silver, its handle wrapped in a faded violet cloth. I lifted it carefully, and it hummed in my grip like it recognized something ancient in me. I strapped it beneath my cloak without a word. If I couldn’t scream, I would let this blade speak.

With a swift, powerful motion, I drove the blade straight into his chest. I pushed deeper and felt the resistance of bone and muscle. His eyes widened in shock, and a gurgling scream escaped his lips. I showed no mercy, grinding my teeth as I wrenched the knife sideways, tearing through the flesh. Blood spurted, staining my clothes. I yanked the blade free, silencing his screams forever. "Let’s get the hell out of here, Nicholas. We’ve got less than eight minutes before the feds show up," Luca snapped as I wiped the blood off my blade with a rag, the metallic scent lingering in the air.