Vane Black Sails Novels & Stories

After the tenth match, the captain of the Dornishmen appeared in full grey-and- blue armour and a cape. "Theo Alexand, the Black knight," Daerason whistled. "I guess he just wants to test his strength. What a bully." Apparently, Theo Alexand had not seen defeat in any of his battles, his might insured that he was feared. "Who shall face me?" Barked the knight. No one dared to come out. Everyone feared the big, black knight. "Seriously no one is foolish enough to take him on," laughed the Prince. "You over exaggerated Theo's strength. He can still bleed. That makes him man," the king said calmly.

Ravan replied in stern voice and harshly pulled out his sword by making Vivan fall down on his knees. Vivan lightly supported his body by pressing on arm on floor and other on his bleeding heart wound “Randhir Bha… bhai… mere.. chita ko agni dena… koi nhi hai tumhare siva mera yeha (Randhir Brother…… do my Cremation as I have no one else buy you)” Vivan said as his body fell down on floor covered in pool of his own blood while his eyes remained on Ravan face in meantime Ravan to kept his eyes on Vivan who was now slowly slipping in to death mouth by standing tall above him holding ‘khanda’ in his hand as blood kept oozing form his arm where bullet was shot when unexpectedly a lone tear drop

Carla Rodriguez Black, Later that day... Location: Northern Atlantic Ocean After the last consultation with Ethan's doctor, he suddenly decided to surprise me with a date on his private yacht, christened BLACK DREAMS. My heart fluttered with excitement as I stepped onto Ethan's private yacht, my eyes widening at the sight of its luxurious interior. It was my first time on such an extravagant boat, and I savored the moment, knowing it would be a night to remember. The evening sky, painted in hues of orange and pink, created a breathtaking backdrop as I made my way towards Ethan, who stood near the edge of the deck, a gentle smile playing on his lips. His presence was comforting, and my nerves

I became a ghost aboard the flagship. For three days, the heavy longship plowed through the churning, black waves of the Blackwater Sea. The rhythmic, deafening thud of the rowing oars vibrated directly through the wooden hull and into the soles of my feet, a constant, mechanical heartbeat that kept time with the growing dread in my chest. Above us, on the main deck, Kaelen’s voice constantly boomed through the fog. It was a high-pitched, psychotic rasp that demanded more speed, more discipline, more blood. I watched him through the iron grates of the cargo hold. He was a man consumed by a rotting, volatile madness, his grey aura flaring erratically whenever he stared toward the western hori

The boat cut violently through the storm. Black waves slammed against the hull hard enough to shake every bone in Aria’s body while freezing rain whipped across the deck like needles. Behind them, the cliffs of Blackwater burned against the night. Even from miles away, the mansion still looked unreal. Flames consuming windows. Smoke curling into thunderclouds. An entire empire collapsing into the sea. And somewhere within those ruins, Richard Thorne had either died… or disappeared again. Aria didn’t know which possibility unsettled her more.

Her voice cracked—barely more than a broken whisper carried away on the wind. The headlights blinded her. The world spun violently. Her knees gave way, and the road rushed up to meet her. She collapsed in a crumpled heap on the cold asphalt, consciousness slipping away like sand through her fingers, the faint sound of screeching brakes echoing in her ears as darkness claimed her.

Every polished board, every gleaming lantern, every gold-threaded banner bearing the crest of my house belonged to me. It towered like a beast against the waves, grander than anything else that had dared to grace these waters in decades. The hull was blackened oak, carved with lines so sharp they glimmered like obsidian when the moonlight struck. The sails were folded for now, but even at rest, the ship looked alive, like it had lungs waiting to breathe in the winds of the open sea.

They did not return their weapons. As the sun began to set, casting long, bloody shadows across the water, the four galleons slowly raised their sails. The wind caught the heavy canvas. The ships turned heavily in the bay, navigating through the floating wreckage of their own armada, and began the long, humiliating journey back to the edge of the map. I stood beside Zane, watching the white sails shrink into the distance until they were swallowed by the gray horizon. The ocean was empty again. "It's over," Zane said quietly.