Switchblade Queen 소설 & 이야기

She thought of her mother, Queen Nox, who'd once said, "A blade too soon drawn is a blade forever dulled. As though it had winked at her to catch her attention, her gaze shifted - caught on a blade resting apart from the others. It gleamed black as midnight, so dark the light seemed swallowed by it. Its hilt was wrought with curling filigree of silver, set with stones of onyx. Its guard swept outward like wings — not soft, feathery wings, but razor-edged, proud, terrible. It was beautiful. It was dreadful. It was hers.

"It's done. Dante, get this trash out of my sight before I—" "Wait!" The shout came from the back of the room. Silas, a high-ranking warrior from the Silverwood pack, pushed through the crowd. He looked pale, his eyes wide with . He was holding a clear plastic evidence bag. Inside was a jagged hunting knife, the blade covered in dark, dried blood. "My King, you can't just let her go," Silas said, his voice shaking. "We found this in her locker during a routine sweep an hour ago."

She purses her lips in displease seeing everyone is leaping aside. 'Why in the hell would they leap away as if it's a vulture?! The sword is aimed straight and they could have just stepped aside from its way! Why would they do backflips and all? Is this a gymnastics class or what? And what's with that dude? Why is that guy breathing heavily as if he just escaped from a hunting lion?' She notices only a few guys just took a step aside and stood straight calmly. THUD! Her eyes follow the sound and see Parthib stopped the sword by holding it in his bare hand. The sharp edge has cut his palm resulting in bleeding.

Haris was taken aback when he saw Adrian's attack. He had a deep impression of the Inferno Purgatory. It was this move that told him that Adrian’s weapons were top-notch treasures. As someone from Blade's Reach, Haris had been around weapons since childhood, particularly swords. Adrian's Divine Frost Slayer Blade was the most enigmatic weapon he had ever encountered. It seemed to possess a consciousness of its own, making it extraordinarily mysterious. As for the Hellblade, he deduced from his clashes with Adrian that it was an exceptionally rare and valuable weapon.

She asked, impatient as she waited for him to elaborate. "Bruce a-and Layla Kingston. They're the leaders of t-the Panthers, The American m-mafia." She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Unfortunately, I don't have a clue of who they are." The woman grabbed another knife from the table and slashed multiple cuts on his chest, red blood oozing down his torso freely. Bella went around him and carved a heart on his bare back. It was her symbol; a signature, you could say. Each of her victims, alive or not, bared the symbol on their skin.

She had motivated herself to spice up the position Kyle bestowed upon her. She stood up and went out to meet the men who were all chatting the Vampire's slogans. Among them were new faces which Jasmine believed were the new initiates. One of her duties was to initiate every new covert as the queen to the kingdom and not anyone else. She walked closer and stood at the podium Kyle had mounted outside for a case like this and she rang the bell beside it to attract their attention. Everyone turned and saw her. Asher mouth thinned with a wicked smirk upon sighting. His body transfixed, trying to hold up his anger seeing her standing on the leader podium. It was only Kyle who had stood there befor

I whispered. Ozana stepped farther into the chamber slowly. “No time for explanations.” One elder pointed toward me immediately. “She killed somebody.” “Yes,” Ozana said calmly. “Because this is bigger than one death.” The room went dead silent again. “What do you mean?” Ozana’s eyes lifted toward me carefully. Then... “She carries the blood of Asha.” Every witch froze. My stomach tightened immediately. “The Queen of the Night,” Ozana finished quietly. “The Hybrid Queen.”

Sworn enemies yet, she is the only woman who can put out the fire in our bloodlines. “What are you waiting for, Leo? A fucking invitation? Shoot her knees!” My father orders. I cock the gun, waiting for Zeyneps’ jaded-coloured irises to meet mine, and when they do, I wink at her. Quickly, I lift my arm and press the gun in my grasp against the side of my father’s head, with my index finger resting on the trigger. “Long live the Defiant Queen, Zeynep Volkov, heir of the true Artemis ‘Wolf’ Volkov,” I say in a firm tone and pull the trigger, murdering my father.