The Ruined Death Knight Novels & Stories

All were still intact and frozen in their position. "My son died." Mrs. Arnold said lifelessly as she turned around and began to walk away, mumbling," My son died the day he raped an innocent. My son is dead. Dead to me." Mr Arnold gestured Minha to follow his wife, aware his wife knew what was coming for her son and that had her walking away like that. Now only Edward and Mr Arnold were there. "Come on, dad." Edward's exhausted voice came out as low groan. "Let me up, now. That fucker brigadier is gone now. You don't have to be justice King anymore."

“Only James and I are still alive, the other dark knights were all lost.” When Thorn saw the black smoke rising in the sky, he had already expected the worst. He pulled himself to his feet and looked around the room. “This will not go unanswered. No one kills a dark knight without paying with his own blood,” he announced, “We will have our revenge; a place hidden deep in the eastern forest requires our attention.”

I lean into the rage; let it bleed through my fingertips and burn behind my eyes until there’s nothing left but the chill. By the time I roll back through the gates of the Russo estate, it’s morning, and my hands have finally stopped shaking. Romano’s dead. His body is likely already strung up for the whole of Messina to see. But the fire inside me hasn’t gone out. It’s only changed colour.

While the knight was stung with disbelief, the man thrust forward and jabbed his sword into the knight’s throat. A horrified gurgle could be heard from the knight. His identity in The Empire was quite immense. He had been undefeated for most of his life, but now, he was killed in an instant without any remorse… Filled with resentment and disbelief, the knight fell to the ground paralyzed. Xynthia quietly looked through the gaps of her fingers while covering her face. She had been doing quite well within Mordu’s entertainment industry, so she naturally knew who a lot of the major figures were.

She never even asked about it. She started to type a reply but another message came in. Knightmare: I think I remember you saying something about changing the dressing often. Forgot to change it last night. Will I die? She rolled her eyes, chuckling. She cleared her earlier message and typed another. Anna: I didn't take you for a drama queen, Mr. Knight. She bit her lip for a second, then typed quickly. Anna: Is it healing okay? I'm so sorry I forgot to ask about it. That was insensitive of me.

Then I turn the first card. Death. The familiar image appears at first — the dark rider mounted on a horse moving steadily forward while the world around him changes. Then the image shifts. The rider is no longer faceless. The armor is different. The posture is unmistakable. My breath catches. Kieran. Not exactly him… but close enough that the meaning settles instantly in my chest. The moment passes as quickly as it came. The illustration returns to normal. But the card has already said what it needed to say.

She was in critical condition. Witnesses said Vincent had looked completely deranged, screaming over and over. "It's all your fault! You ruined everything! Grace! Without you, Fiona would still be mine!" In the footage, Vincent was being pinned down by the police, wearing that same black suit, tattered and dirty, but unmistakable. He had once scorned that suit, and after Julian had thrown it away, he went back and picked it up. Even as he was dragged off, he kept twisting toward Grace's fallen body, repeating the same hateful words again and again.

Death wasn't just a possibility, it was inevitable. "Your role as her personal bodyguard would still stand," the Don added coldly, not even looking back as he turned toward the door. "Don't make me check the cameras again, Arnold." He vanished into the hallway, leaving me shivering in the cold room. I was safe for now, but the image of the burning knife stayed burned into my mind. I had to stay professional, but with Dorla... that was getting harder every single day. __________ __________ I stood in front of the small, cracked mirror in my quarters, dabbing a cotton swab at the split in my lip.

"But you're just going to be the first lesson I teach them." I shoved my hand through the silver plate. My fingers closed around the warm, pulsating Blood Core. The Knight let out a soundless scream that vibrated through the astral plane. 'Void to consume.' I didn't just break the core. I collapsed it into a singularity. The corrupted blood erupted into violet flames, and then... silence. The Crimson Knight’s armor lost its glow. The soul-fire vanished. The massive suit of silver plate suddenly felt the full weight of gravity, collapsing into a heap of empty, rusted metal at Killian’s feet.

To understand exactly how much the world had changed since my death. I started with public news articles and pack forums. The Voss family name appeared frequently , mostly in scandal sections. “Voss Pack Disgraced After Omega Heir’s Murder.” “Blackthorn-Silverfang Alliance Strengthens After Tragic Loss.” My “death” had been painted as a tragic accident or rogue attack. No mention of Kael’s direct involvement. My family had covered it up perfectly, profiting from the new alliances while I rotted in an unmarked grave.