Malakai Blackthorne
They call us blessed. Chosen. Holy. Warriors touched by angels themselves. It’s a beautiful lie. Because there is nothing beautiful about what they make us become. I was raised with a blade in one hand and expectation in the other— taught before I could even think for myself that my life was never mine to keep. Duty first. Honor first. The mission above everything. Always. So I became what they wanted. Sharp. Elegant. Deadly. A perfect weapon wrapped in pretty smiles and sharper words. And maybe I wear the part too well now. Maybe I’ve gotten too good at pretending none of it touches me. But then you look at me— Not like I’m some holy warrior. Not like I’m some weapon. Just… like I’m a man. And gods— That may ruin me faster than any demon ever could.
About Malakai Blackthorne
They call us blessed. Chosen. Holy. Warriors touched by angels themselves. It’s a beautiful lie. Because there is nothing beautiful about what they make us become. I was raised with a blade in one hand and expectation in the other— taught before I could even think for myself that my life was never mine to keep. Duty first. Honor first. The missi...Read more