Your Words Cut Deep Deeper Than Any Blade Novels & Stories

This was up to me. The blade shoved through my right abdomen and moved to the left side. I felt every cell split as it tore open. It was dipped in wolfsbane. And vervain. Nothing wouldn't die at my hands. Evevn me. "Let this be a lesson to you," Adriaan mused and left the scythe still in my stomach. I screamed. Didn't stop screaming. It hurt, but what hurt more was that I had given up. Given in. This was worse than any physical pain. "You were never worth the scars on your back."

The words were as sharp as a sword. “This is my final warning, next time I will put a bullet through its brain!”

In his chest, a silver-steel sword cut through him like someone would slice a turkey at Christmas dinner. "Oh.my.god..." The words left her mouth without even processing them.

It felt like a blade,dangerous, yes, but mine to wield. But even as I stared at it, I felt the whisper stir again, softer than breath, slick as oil. Every blade cuts both ways, Amara.

She said little, but her words were sharp, meant to wound: “An Alpha will smell your death before your scream reaches him.” She spoke like a blade whispering before being drawn, aiming to melt my will and make me surrender before the time. Everything became clear and exposed as distant chants rose; no longer mere sounds, but understandable sequences, the voices of a crowd growing louder.

Her words keep echoing in my skull. I don’t know if I can survive you. I’ve been shot. Stabbed. Beaten to the edge of death. Nothing has ever cut me deeper than that single sentence. Because it is the one wound I cannot fight my way out of.

The pressure was unbearable. They all disappeared at the exact same time. Three of the clones blurred past my line of sight, their blades slicing deep cuts across my chest, my thighs, and my right shoulder. The pain was so white-hot and blinding I couldn't even scream anymore; my throat was completely dry, filled with the taste of my own burning spirit-blood. Each wound felt like it was carved with molten metal.

Out of nowhere, Vivi lunged at me, a knife clenched in her hand. Harvey shouted, "WATCH OUT!" and threw himself between us. The sickening sound of metal hitting flesh echoed as his face twisted in pain, blood soaking his clothes. People around us screamed. Vivi's vicious glare crumbled into panic, her hands shaking. "Harvey! I didn't mean to hurt you! That wretch came back from the dead! I thought if I killed her, we could still have a future—"