Shadow's Of The Archer
  • LECTURAS 705
  • Votos 8
  • Partes 11
  • Hora 5h 7m
  • LECTURAS 705
  • Votos 8
  • Partes 11
  • Hora 5h 7m
Continúa, Has publicado mar 31, 2023
If blood is thicker than water, then how thin is it possible to make it? Because I was exiled from my home at the age of nine for being little more than a well read killer and honestly? To this day, at seven and a half centuries, give or take a decade, I can agree with the judgement they put upon me. 

I just never did much to exceed that expectation, only seal it in stone and carry it like the eternal stone of Sisyphus. Dick of a guy, by the way.

From the red of the most crimson rose petals and the blood in your veins, know one thing before you read this beginning to the end of my story. It is not the same as you would normally hear. I am the Archer at the Fall of Night, and a Witch who takes no shit. Sagittarius Pierce. Killing is my purpose and all I am good at. Hope you don't mind. I sure as hell don't.
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Long ago, when the world was young and humanity struggled against the forces of chaos, the gods intervened. They forged a sword, not as a weapon of destruction, but as a gift of hope. Each god poured a fragment of their essence into it-courage, wisdom, resilience, and strength. It's a sword meant for everything possible. For centuries, the blade lay hidden, waiting for the right moment to be discovered. It wasn't buried in gold or locked away in a grand vault-it rested quietly in the heart of the earth, untouched and unseen, until the time was right. When the first hand grasped the hilt, the sword came alive. Its surface shimmered with an otherworldly glow, a promise of the power within. The one who found it didn't know the gods had shaped it, nor did they understand the weight of what they held. But the sword recognized them. It responded to their strength, their resolve, and their needs. As the blade cut through the darkness for the first time, it wasn't just its edge that brought change. It was the force behind it-the will to fight for survival, for something greater than fear. With every swing, the sword grew brighter, stronger, as if it fed not on blood but on purpose. Though the gods forged the blade, it wasn't theirs anymore. In that moment, it became part of humanity, a bond between the divine and mortal worlds. And for the one who wielded it, the sword was more than steel and magic-it was a companion, a guide, and a silent promise: you are not alone. Thus began the sword's journey, not just as a tool of battle, but as a symbol of what humanity could become. And though its path was just beginning, the gods knew it would go on, far beyond what even they could imagine. (this is my very first novel. I got my inspiration from a nail clipper)
𝙎𝙋𝘼𝘾𝙀 𝙅𝘼𝙈  ✶  𝙙𝙤𝙘𝙩𝙤𝙧 𝙬𝙝𝙤 de theclockworkghost
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【𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐉𝐀𝐌】 ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏʙᴏᴅʏ ɢᴇᴛ ᴜᴘ ɪᴛ's ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ sʟᴀᴍ ɴᴏᴡ ᴡᴇ ɢᴏᴛ ᴀ ʀᴇᴀʟ ᴊᴀᴍ ɢᴏɪɴ' ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ sᴘᴀᴄᴇ ᴊᴀᴍ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ At the edge of reality stands a woman. In her grasp: pure cosmic power─every star, every mystery, every infinite possibility. She is the beginning and the end. The creator and the destroyer. A force of a woman with universes in her veins and hell on her tongue. With that much power, following the rules becomes... inconvenient. But breaking them? Oh, that's where her fun begins. And playing the Space Jam? She was created for it. Then there's that weird British alien hero-guy. Most people just call him the Doctor. Brilliant, infuriating, heartbreakingly kind. An old madman with a funny ole box who's spent almost all his lifetimes running, but somehow, he finds himself running after her. Because he's never been able to resist a bad girl. Especially one who holds more power than she knows what to do with. But, that's a lie. She knows exactly what she's going to do with all that power. It'll be the grandest of all grand slams. The biggest win in all of time and space. She will tear down the entire fucking system. And she would love to see someone try and stop her. ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ 𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙡𝙮 𝙛𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜! ᴛᴇɴᴛʜ ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ x ᴏᴄ ᴇʟᴇᴠᴇɴᴛʜ ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ x ᴏᴄ
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