Wielder Novels & Stories

Finnick dropped to one knee, holding his ears. I didn’t flinch. I couldn’t because I recognized that sound. It wasn’t an attack. It was a question. "Do you stand as Warden or Beacon?” I stepped forward, drawing the blade. It shimmered black-blue-gold in the pale light. Alive now. Less a weapon than a vow. The wind lifted around me. The leyline surged. The runes burned bright enough to cast shadows. And I spoke: “I stand as both.” The sound stopped. The lead figure lowered its arm.

” If you can’t kill his henchmen, then your goal is useless. “But...but...” Willow felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Azeasthrath. “I’m here for you, Will.” She smiled weakly. Quinn’s eyes glowed bright green as he smirked. “Well, you’re gonna let me overtake you today? Willow straightened up. “Not a chance”, he said and brought out his guns, The Vindicators. Weapons that used tachyon beams, and for maximum damage, they were infused with his blood, which negated any regenerative abilities. They also corroded the body of dead enemies and turned them to pure essence, which he absorbed go get stronger.

Jack's super weapon will become a big inventions he would ever make from the history of all his creations. He started to draw a plan for the weapon, he added a little twist on it. It will be called Odrazeny. Odrazeny is a weapon that will become a one all. It is an arm metal gear that reaches until the end part of the arms. When it is not used it will turn into a simple wrist bracelet that you can carry anywhere you go. And when you needed to use its power just whisper the word 'ODRAZENY' and it will move all the way where your location was. And after which you will only need to click it into your wrist and became a weapon when you exclaim the word 'TRANSFORM'.

Runes ran along the hilt—half flame, half crescent—and the metal pulsed like it was alive. Racheal stepped closer. The blade sang to her blood. “You feel it, don’t you?” Myra whispered. “It was made for you.” Racheal reached out, fingers hovering over the hilt. “What is it?” Myra exhaled slowly. “It’s called Ashweaver. A soulbound blade. Forged at the end of the Flame Wars by a rogue godsmith. It can kill a vessel of divine blood… but only if wielded by one who shares that blood.”

"I'm—I'm sorry Sam. I know you tried to save him with all your might. But I, I was just . . . really furious right now!" "That's why we should stop blaming each other. We have a enemy to interrogate and to kill." Malco led the way with Alexander, Mel of the fey clan, Jason with Sam supporting in his shoulders behind him. They reached the dungeon where the the person was being chained with silver bane. A painful and very sharp weapon created by the Werewolf faction. This time he pulled the trigger and raised the gun in their enemy face. "Where is Alexandra?!" Alexander demanded as he dug the gun in his wound, causing the person to shriek in pain. But after a minute he began laughing and spat

The intense urge to catch her was strong but he couldn't do that at the sacrifice of his men. "YOU MOTHERF*CKERS! GREET YOUR FATHER," Hunter snarled, charging at them. Both of his claws extended out as he slashed one of the men. Instead of tossing his body away, he ripped his insides out as blood spurts on his face but he was smiling. The looks on the faces of his enemies were magnificent. They looked terrified. Hunter's men shifted into their wolf form as they lunged at the enemies. Including Hunter, there were only four of them while the enemies were nine in number.

Vorian’s lips pressed into a thin line, calculating, restrained, but I could see the predatory tension in his posture, the challenge unbroken yet wavering. I raised my voice, letting every ounce of will, power, and intent shape the fire into a visible halo around me. “This flame answers to me,” I declared, voice steady and unwavering. “Not to fear, not to coercion, and not to you. I will wield it, but only as I choose.” The shard flared brightly, scorching the air with light and heat, commanding the attention of everyone in the chamber.

He smiled while they screamed and thrashed in agony, a glint in his eyes. Blake didn’t give up and continued the torture for hours while the few warriors that joined us kept running out to bring coffee and food. If torture were an art, Blake was an exceptionally creative artist. I had never even thought to imagine all the different ways a body could be disfigured. And as if he was a professor, Blake patiently lectured us on the benefits of each knife he was using. He showed off his clip point—good for quick, deep puncture and withdrawal. Then his drop point—good for skinning. Finally, his needlepoint—perfect for thrusting. All things I'd have been perfectly content never knowing.

He squeezed her hand, then released it, stepping forward to lead the way. Darius handed out weapons as they prepared to descend. The blades were silver, with edges coated in a dark, oily substance. “Wolfsbane,” Darius explained. “It’s the only thing that will kill them. Don’t hesitate. If you see one, strike fast and don’t look back.”

Vol is the best blacksmith we have in our tribe and he is passing down his legacy to his son, Coll. Vol created our weapons and when I won the deer hunting competition, I asked him to create a new set of spears with a Fleur de Lis symbol, the symbol that has been passed down to Ambrose’s for ages. Some people in our tribe told me a story about how the werewolves feared the symbol. “Thank you for these amazing spears and knives, Vol.” I traced the symbol as I scan the spears. The shaft is made with lignum vitae, the strongest wood we have and it is furnished with black dye. The shoe of the spear is made with silver and an embedded symbol of Fleur de Lis.