What Happened To Blackfyre Sword Novels & Stories

Behind him, Gamma Kaelen stood at attention, his knuckles white where they gripped the edge of the strategy table. "The High Council is in a frenzy, Prince," Kaelen reported, his usual steady voice carrying an unusual strain. “The entire capital is whispering. The Lycan King’s monthly Berserk phase ended almost as soon as it began. He broke his celestial steel chains under the Pink Moon, fell eerily silent, then vanished across the human border… and somehow, he’s calm.” Bellamy didn't turn around. He knew exactly what the three factions were doing in the shadows.

A colossal light sword, ten zhang long and forged from pure moonlight, descended from above, bearing the overwhelming pressure of divine judgment. Ignoring the dark barrier entirely, the sword pierced straight through Blood Axe’s crown, pinning him and the black rune on his body firmly to the center of the platform. Crack. The seemingly indestructible hemispherical dark barrier let out a crisp snap. It shattered like a giant glass dome struck by a hammer, breaking into countless black specks that drifted away and vanished under the moonlight. Blood Axe never got the chance to utter a final scream. His powerful physique disintegrated bit by bit starting from his head. In the space of a single

Why would they come now? The words hit like a blade through the haze of my earlier thoughts, slicing straight into the fragile uncertainty Nanny Elara had left me with. Moments ago my chest had been heavy with Bella—her fire, her defiance, the terrifying possibility that I was falling for a woman who saw me as little more than a tool for her revenge. Now the world reminded me, cruelly and instantly, that a Lycan King could not afford such distractions. Not when blood might soon stain our lands. Without thinking, I turned to leave with him, my hand instinctively closing around the hilt of my sword.

I opened my mouth. And darkness answered. Everything exploded. When I opened my eyes, the chamber was in ruins. Every Council member lay unconscious or worse. Leofric bled from his temple. Sabine’s robes were smoking. I stood alone. In my hand was not the shard. It was a sword. Forged of shadow and violet flame. And etched across the blade was my true name. Not Morwenna. Something older. Something even the gods forgot. The war had just begun. I stumbled through the corridor, blood trickling down my temple, the sting grounding me. The voices in my head no longer whispers were now chants. Rhythmic, demanding, and calling something ancient inside me. I gritted my teeth and pushed forward.

Not a placeholder. An answer. Freya had held it back but I would end it. The blade in my hand caught fire, the flames blue-black and gold. The edges cracked, not from weakness, but from power too great to contain. Velrith lunged and I met it. The next thing I remember is ash. Ash falling like snow over Delkhar. The sky above, no longer red—but not healed either. The city had gone silent. The leyline was quiet now, still pulsing beneath my skin, but steady. Whole.

Zevran said. She raised her hands, the flames forming a circle between them. “By my measure, you will burn no more in hunger, but in memory.” The black fire contracted into a single pulse—then exploded outward as pure white. The shockwave swept through the chamber, up the stairs, through the citadel, and across the plains. When it faded, silence reigned. The Black Moon in the sky flickered once, then began to bleed gold. Zevran sank to his knees, pulling Kaelira into his arms. Her skin still glowed faintly, her breathing ragged but steady.

He remembers what it felt like to face your father's wolf all those years ago. The memory hit me then, not my own, but something deeper, carried in my blood. My father's final stand, outnumbered and betrayed, his white wolf blazing with fury as he fought to protect his pack, his mate, his infant daughter. He had fallen, but not before showing them exactly what Blackthorne's power looked like. Now they would see it again. Lord Donovan stumbled backward as I approached the platform, his carefully maintained composure finally cracking. "This is impossible," he whispered, his voice carrying to my enhanced hearing. "We made sure. We killed them all."

Crying, shaking, reaching for him. The next, black fire swallowed her whole. The clearing caved in. The ground itself collapsed, groaning like a beast dragged from sleep. The academy’s wards shrieked in unison, their ancient magic unraveling, towers splitting and stone cracking apart. The sky bent wrong. The air itself tore open. Malick roared her name and lunged into the storm. His shadows bucked violently at his back, screaming warnings, begging him to stop, but he didn’t care.

"I understand. Rest assured, I'll head there immediately." After ending the call, Wilbur moved to a secluded area. Ensuring he was alone, he entered the demiplane and picked up the black sword lying on the ground. This was the sword left by Svenberg from the night before, which Wilbur had later stored in his demiplane. Given his recent encounter with the Bloodism Bow, Wilbur suspected that this black sword might also be an artifact from the God of Destruction. Like the bow, it could likely be exchanged for a significant number of grace points.

Said Anthony. “What happened to him?” Asked Sekora. Ashley took a breath then she answered the question. “Kariya killed him, because he didn’t give him the sword he found” She replied in a very somber voice. “I’m sorry about your loss.” Said Sekora “Its ok.” Said Ashley, then the group had a moment of silence “He found one of the swords, which one was it and where is it now?” Asked Sekora anxiously. “It’s the Phoenix Wing sword, but I don’t know where in the house it is.” Said Ashley.