The Blade Of Endless Paths Novels & Stories

The blast from the Elder’s void-energy sent a shockwave through the Dead Lands, turning the ash into a blinding whirlwind. Silas lay motionless against the jagged rocks, his black-glass blade nothing but glittering shards in the dirt. I stood alone, the white light of the Priestess lineage flickering around my fingers like dying embers.

I immediately shove myself off his grip, cleared off imaginary dust from my dress. "What do you want? I didn't order anything and I don't think Rana did so why are you here?" I asked in a really cold manner, not remembering to show my gratitude to him because I didn't think it was necessary. "I have a delivery for Miss Rana Greene." He resumed with his grin and brought out a book that was made out of papers and a wood, and a pen. He gave me a big box and I yelped from the expectation of it to be heavy but it was really light-weighted than I had expected it to be.

I couldn’t find the mention of Alexarts anywhere. I was sitting amidst a pile of scattered books when Susie came in with breakfast. “What are you trying to find, Alex. If you want I can help you.” She said setting the tray on the table. I blinked my eyes a few times and said, “We need three Alexarts if we want to kill a Golden Shifter.” “What is that?” She said furrowing her eyebrows. How silly of me? Of course, she wouldn’t know. “Have you noticed the pendant around Eva’s neck?”

BLADE 3. Pain. It was all I felt when I shot my eyes opened. I felt so sore and tired. The memories of how Lorenzo plunged deeper into me last night filled my mind. He was so cruel to me. I didn't find any enjoyment in it at all. I tried lifting my hands and I was happy It was back to functioning. My tit hurts too as a result of the sucking he did last night.

Alexander Vale leaned close behind her, his voice a soft murmur against the hush. “This is the hour,” he said, nodding toward the mantle, where the contents of the ancient sketchbook lay splayed: cryptic maps, ciphered verses, and the faint outline of a serpent-headed key. “When the Circle’s wards weaken. The flame that once protected our ancestors now flickers thin.” Isabelle’s breath caught. She reached out, fingertips trembling, to touch the sketchbook’s leather binding. “And if the flame is hollow,” she whispered, “what then remains to light our path?”

It looked dangerous… sacred… and strangely familiar. “The Blade of Tenebris,” I murmured, recalling the words I’d once tried so hard to forget. “It cuts not flesh, but spirit. A single strike leaves enemies hollow, their will severed. It was quenched in the Void during the First Apex War. Every wielder leaves behind a fragment of their soul.”

This was due to the high concentration of the majestic Focus of the sword in it. “How dare you, Zephyr!” Drogo started to curse and scream pathetically when he saw the incoming bladed energy. The bladed energy seemed to have created an ancient milky way galaxy in its wake as it slashed through Drogo. The single stream of bladed energy splitted into many as it ripped across his body. Instantly, his blood sprayed everywhere as he plummeted down to the ground.

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.

Every time our blades met, the air around us shattered like glass, revealing glimpses of different timelines—the North as a desert, the North as a machine, the North as a dream. Aethelred moved with a fluid, terrifying grace. He didn't use strength; he used Permeability. He would turn into mist just as my blade struck, only to reform behind me, his scythe carving through the air with the sound of a falling star. "The Conductor seeks to control the Source," Aethelred resonated, his voice a sound of crushing ice. "But the Source cannot be controlled. It can only be Endured." "I'm not here to control it!" I screamed, parrying a strike that sent a shockwave of indigo fire across the platform. "I

Just me, silence, and a truth I couldn’t outrun. The blade was where I’d left it. Carefully hidden beneath a false floor tile and shrouded with cloth enchanted to dampen aura bleed. It wasn’t a standard weapon. This one had been gifted to me after the hybrid trials. Blood-forged. Custom-coded to react to the specific fingerprint of my aura signature. One of the only things that still felt real when the rest of my memories seemed to come and go like smoke.