Dead By Daylight Comics Novels & Stories

Another shows her hand and hand with her brother, Death, as they together usher the shades of dead through the Deadlands, him showing them the way in, her showing the way out. But as we walk, I see that it’s not simply a series of images celebrating her accomplishments. Instead, it’s a story. Life, born from Darkness and yolked forever to Death. Life, in many worlds, holding the hands of people as they are born and live and then pass back into the unknowing realms. Life, beneath the light of a full moon with a howling she-wolf carved at its center, her head bowed as the light spreads all around her. “That one,” I murmur, stopping before it. “Is odd…”

"Okay, I had to take my breath there. So, the peoples' cries alerted Generosasis, with nothing left in her heart but hatred and the cloud above her eyes sprouted by betrayal— she couldn't decipher anything but follow her instincts. She roared in anger, and a ball of fire rolled out of her enormous mouth, hitting the houses across the library. That night, some generations perished, and hundreds of people died, Dordin being one of them. Generosasis murdered the man she claimed to love, she murdered her sister and a dozen families. Now, Deborah, that is the tale of Dordin, what do you think about it?" I cleared my throat, "I think it's the most fascinating story, I also think Dordin's story sho

"I gave my theory and proofs... Now you give me yours..." He smirked mischievously. She couldn't understand how this happened, even after trying and looking she couldn't find his fault. "You know___" They both heard the loud knock on the door. "Damon!" It was Mariana. Damon groaned and pressed the button beside his nightstand which opened the door. "Why are you screaming in the morning, Mariana?" He asked annoyed. Mira noticed Mariana looking bothered. "Tyson! Our men found his dead body near the graveyard in the midnight..."

Loud, chaotic sound effects of gunfire and explosions echoed from the speakers. The Mad Dog of the Underworld was currently locked in a fierce battle... on a mobile shooting game. ​As soon as the doors clicked, he didn't even look up at first, his thumbs still tapping furiously. "Daniel. Did the lunatic survive the night?" ​"Barely. But she's here," Daniel replied, walking over to the table and casually helping himself to a piece of bacon. ​With a final, loud boom from his phone, Lucien finally lifted his gaze.

It laughed so hard that even some of the crying stopped — people freezing mid-sob, stunned by the sheer insanity of the sound. I could feel it vibrating through my chest, every note cutting through my ribs. When it finally stopped, it wiped an invisible tear from the corner of its eye and said, still chuckling, “Have you forgotten?” Its grin twisted. “You’re also dead.” The man’s mouth fell open. “W-what?” he whispered, barely audible. The Game Master leaned down until their foreheads almost touched. “Dead,” it repeated, dragging the word out like a lover’s whisper. “Every single one of you. Including you. You died. You’re not alive.”

Harley agreed. "Okay, so Demitri is a day walker, which means that he can unleash hell on us whenever he wants. I also wouldn't put it past him to try and get more blood from you in order to create a day walking army…" Mason summed up. Harley breathed uneasily at the thought, but pushed her personal feelings aside for the minute to focus on the conversation. She forced a small, but fake smile and then continued, "But that's not all we have to worry about…"

There were lava pits, spikes, and spires with bodies strapped onto them being stabbed repeatedly. My mouth hung open at the spectacle. It was even worse than what I imagined Dante's Inferno to be. I must have not made it. I didn't even remember dying. I didn't even remember being in pain. My mouth worked at the word, until it came out in a hoarse whisper. "Hell." Someone released my arms. I couldn't take my eyes from the scene. "Yes," Remi said at my elbow. "Am I dead?" He reached out and turned my face towards him with one hand. He forced me to make eye contact with him. Seeing his face pulled me out of my shock a little. That deep set anger started to flare up.

I quickly responded, "It's not that. I think lost someone." Lowan sat next to Noah and me. He placed his fiery card in the middle resembling a campfire. I noticed that the card had the roman numeral I on it and an image of a sorcerer of some sort. The flame kept us warm and made the area bright and less spooky. Noah placed his hand over my shoulder and asked, "Who is this someone?" "Before I fainted, I was in a battle with a Dalaketnon," I explained. "Wait. How did you fight the creature? You can't de-soul," pointed Lowan.

Maya was in the supply room, counting soap, because apparently romance was dead but hygiene had survived and become everyone’s problem. “Bitten?” she asked. “Doesn’t look it.” “Armed?” “Knife. Bad one.” “Intent?” “Mostly desperate.” Maya put down the soap. Then Miles added, “Says his name is Dex Hartley.” For one second, the room became very still. Not outside. Outside kept being outside: wind against corrugated metal, distant dead dragging themselves through streets they no longer had appointments in, someone swearing near the water tanks because gravity remained a bastard.

He shifts and scoops her up as she whimpers things I can’t hear. I see everyone back in front of the packhouse. And it’s like everything's in slow motion. Jake is down. Kyle is being dragged into the packhouse by his shirt by a wolf I don’t recognize. Evan’s dad is leaning on a warrior, one of his arms limp and at a wrong angle. There’s shouting and blood and bodies littered on the ground. Nick’s dad is crying into someone’s limp form. So much pain here. And they won’t stop. The Soul Eaters won’t stop coming. They’re rising from where they’ve been knocked out.