Phantom Blade - Pekking - Wattpad

Story cover for Phantom Blade by Pekking

Phantom Blade

Membaca 145
Vote 7
Bab 2
Durasi <5 mins

Membaca 145
Vote 7
Bab 2
Durasi <5 mins

action action-adventure adventure fantasy fantasyadventure

For the second time in his life, Pulver saw a shooting star.
What do you think when you think of character flaws? Crooked teeth, nervousness, maybe clumsiness? 

Meet Pulver, a broken, 16-year-old boy with a very shattered past. His flaw? He can't forgive himself. No, say hello to survivor's guilt. 

Before he knows what's going on, Pulver finds himself intertwined with all sorts of mischief and magic: horrific creatures, Grim-Reapers, sorcery, engimas, and finally, the silver blade of a rapier. Thanks for reading, and welcome to Phantom Blade.

 "Breathtaking, descriptions on key. Lemming's writing paints a picture in your mind. Give this a try, you won't regret it." --sapphiirreeSeluruh Hak Cipta Dilindungi Undang-Undang

action action-adventure adventure fantasy fantasyadventure

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Slide 1 of 8

Children of the Dead cover

that one SWURD cover

Deicide: Death's Chosen Assassin cover

The Druid Wielder cover

Roses and Thorns cover

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Adventure Awaits: Tales of Elementia cover

Children of the Dead

Enver Williams is leading on a normal life but that is all ripped away from her when she is taken from her home town. When Enver comes to realize that there are others like her in more ways than one, she is determined to free herself and her newfound friends from the physiological torment of her closely supervised enclosure. ••• "Do I make you nervous, Enver?" Another idiotic question. "Wouldn't the man who kidnapped you and threatened to kill you make you nervous?" I snap at him. He only smiles an odd, crooked grin. I can make that disappear. "Wouldn't a murder make you nervous?" Now it's my turn to pull the strings. He looks at me with hurt in his eyes. "How many times do I have to say it?" He pauses, I guess hoping for some sort of mercy in my eyes, "I didn't kill her." "Liar!" I shout. "Why won't you believe me?!" "Would you believe yourself?" "It wasn't me who shot her," he sits on a stool, resting his elbows on his knees. "Then how do you know she was shot?" "I saw it. I saw him kill her," his voice was riddled with such pure vulnerability and pain it begged me to believe him. "Who?" I try to sound sympathetic, but it comes out as scared. Maybe, subconsciously, I am scared.