Thorn Blade Bg3 Novels & Stories

Storm’s shield shimmered around him like a glowing sphere, bright enough to light the entire room. Blaise and I burst through the doorway at the same moment Thorn materialized beside his bed, power rolling off him like a tidal wave, thick and cold and ancient. The walls groaned from the force. Thorn’s eyes burned silver with fury. “I warned you,” he growled, voice deep enough to shake the floor. Doreana pushed herself up, cracking a twisted smile through the pain. Her hair hung wild around her face, and the expression she wore wasn’t fear— It was satisfaction.

One of the only things that still felt real when the rest of my memories seemed to come and go like smoke. I unwrapped it slowly, fingers brushing the hilt as it was etched. The metal deep crimson-black, with dark veins of Obsidian magic crawling just under the surface. The reflection of my own bloodline. Thornveil in root. Umbraen in finish. Something darker below. Something old. I didn’t hesitate. With a flick of my wrist, the blade ran across my palm, and I let the blood drip down the flat of the steel. I spoke the trace command. It should’ve flared as it was supposed to, controlled. Familiar.

Thorn, sensing the guards' distress, burst into the bunker, his dark energy swirling around him. "Need a hand?" he asked, his eyes flashing with magic. The guards nodded, grateful for the reinforcement. Thorn raised his hands, and a blast of dark energy shot toward Lyra's loyalists, sending them flying across the clearing.

“No soul. My blood, a bond to your forge. Give me the blade.” The guardian’s eyes flare, its form rippling, light and shadow in discord. “A bond binds both ways, Convergence. Your taint will call the enemy.” I nod, pricking my palm, silver blood dripping onto the forge’s heart. The runes blaze, a vault splitting open, revealing the blade—its hilt carved with lunar runes, its edge humming with Veil-destroying power. I seize it, its weight alive, singing of ancient wars, but the forge’s runes pulse, binding me, amplifying the shadow-taint. Voren’s relic hums in the distance, a thunderous echo from my visions, seeking me. The guardian fades, its voice a whisper: “Only the untainted may wield it

"You're hungry for the feeling of power. You want the world to fear the wolf again because you don't know how to be a man." Thorne drew a short-sword from beneath his cloak. It was Ardhan steel—dark, heavy, and etched with the sigil of the pack. "Then show me, Elma. Show me the strength that broke two brothers. Show me why we should listen to a farmer." I didn't reach for the knife. Instead, I reached into the bucket of scrap metal by the gate—the one where I’d tossed the rusted spear-tip weeks ago. My fingers closed around a heavy, iron rod—an old axle-pin from a broken cart.

Stepping forward, he lunged for the kill and swung his sword down. Weapons clashed, and sparks flew. Thorn's expression changed as he stumbled back a step. His arm was numb. "The sword technique of a human is indeed exquisite. But such an unruly technique can only be used on low-level dark beasts. It won't be able to do anything to me." Thorn put his hands together, and a dark battle spear formed. The spear kept flashing with light like a venomous snake flicking its tongue. He moved quickly and lunged at Chase for the kill.

And his broadsword had sliced through the air in a perfect, blindingly fast horizontal arc. The blade cut straight through bone, muscle, and skin without a single ounce of resistance. Thorne’s heavy, sweaty hand dropped onto the marble floor with a wet thud. It was completely severed at the wrist. His thick fingers were still curled tight. A geyser of bright, hot red blood sprayed into the air. It rained down on the pristine white tablecloths and splashed across the horrified faces of the nobles sitting next to him. I froze completely. Thorne stared at his bloody stump for one full, agonizing second.

He whispers it to him so I don't know exactly what it is. Then we reach a stall where there is different kinds of weapons available. I look at them all, but none suits Rudra. Then one weapon catches my eyes. It is a sword. Actually not a sword, the sword. It's handle has beautiful carving of Swarnalipuram's emblem that is snowy mountains and sea under it in golden white colors. "Oh! it is such a wonderful sword and so sharp. Ouch" I say as test his sharpness which is good. "Are you okay? See what you did." Rudra scolds me as he put handkerchief on my thumb where I made little cut.

But it wasn't the perfect time to say it was all over. The sound of a sharp blade, vibrated to its metal sheath that causes an irksome ear-splitting noise to my eardrums. I twitched my ears and saw Ferion sank his bottom to the water as he was thrown a deathly blade at his front. "F-Ferion!!" I shouted with quaver. "Now this is interesting. I just got myself a prey worthy to be slain."

He smiles, "You mentioned it was hot. Then, a lot of kinky sex took place." I'm done now. I stormed in, hands clenched on either side of me, "You'll have a kinky death if you don't get the f*ck out. Rose tends up and grips the knife more firmly. Thorn gets to his feet and gives her a phony smile. "You little devil, I pray things never get better for you." Rose snarks at him after flipping him off, and Aleksander follows him out of the room. 'Why are you holding out?" I gestured towards Thorn.