Arknights Horns Novels & Stories

We’re high up, probably in the very peaks I imagined while blindfolded. Two great doors open before us, and the chamber inside is vast, hung with black banners streaked red, the mark of Blood Moon Pack. At the far end, three thrones rise on a dais of polished obsidian. The center is the widest, taller than the others, carved into the shape of snarling wolf heads with ruby eyes. On that throne sits the Luna, regal, elegant and powerful.

And it would consume them all. And then, a new sound broke the silence. It was not a roar or a chant. It was the sound of a single, clear, pure note. A note that was not of this world. A note that was not of magic or of chaos, but of life. It was the sound of a horn. The war horn of the Trident Guild.

Except General Vance’s eyes were completely solid, liquid black, and in his hand, he held a glowing, crimson crystal horn. "It seems the she-wolf discovered our secret a little too early," General Vance purred, his voice layered with ten thousand demon echoes. He raised the crimson horn to his lips. "No matter. If the Alpha King will not bring the blade to the Capital... the Void Court will harvest his soul right here!" He blew the horn. An ear-splitting sound tore through the room, and the black mark on Dominic’s left shoulder violently erupted into open black flames!

Fern The horns at Blackmoor’s gate sound different from the war horns. They are shorter this time. Like they are uncertain. It isn’t an alarm, but it isn’t welcome either. It is somewhere in between. I look up from the reports scattered across the Luna office desk. Mara is halfway through telling me about supply shortages when the horn sounds again. Three short blasts, then silence. “That’s not a patrol return,” Mara says quietly. “No,” I agree.

The headless body slumped to the floor, blood pooling out over the furs. Gideon did not look at his fallen men. He took one step backward into the ruined doorway, reaching into his leather tunic with his free hand. Then he pulled out an object that made my First Moon blood shriek inside my chest. It was a small, ancient horn carved from black bone, wrapped in silver wire. "You are strong, Valdyr," Gideon said, raising the bone horn to his lips. "But your mate is bleeding, your brother is outnumbered, and the Frostwood Clan brought a hundred fighters to these passes... we did not come to negotiate."

Flanking the gate, 36 priests of Moon Goddess Sanctum stood in silver robes, holding bone horns etched with runes. Further out, 12 war drums made from dragon hide stretched wide, drumsticks wrapped in red wolf tails—a mark of warrior honor. Kaelen held my father's soul plaque; I carried my eldest brother's. Other commanders bore wolf-head plaques in hemlock with obsidian inlays, forming solemn ranks. A massive silver-moon wolf banner hung above the gate. When we appeared at the far end of the road, Alpha King raised his right hand. Woooo— All 36 bone horns sounded together. A hollow, far-reaching note cut through the clouds.

Then came the horn. It was not the high, clear trumpet of a garrison patrol or the sharp chime of the change-of-guard. It was the terrifying, guttural roar of the Vael-Hark—the giant war horn forged from the skull of a subterranean wyrm, mounted on the highest parapet of the Obsidian Spire. The sound filled the mountain, vibrating through stone, iron, and bone. It blown only for two reasons: total war, or the return of the Lycan King.

Auren POV Training was just a backdrop. The real battle was curiosity. And unfortunately for Draken, I’m pathologically incapable of shutting the fuck up when something interests me. I wasn’t subtle about it either. “So… are the horns just for show or do they serve a purpose?” I asked casually, dodging a swipe from a shadow beast and lunging in with my dagger. Draken sighed like a man being interviewed by a toddler with a death wish. “Depends on the demon. Mine are ornamental now. Used to be weapons.”

But the conviction in his voice was a weapon as potent as any claw or steel. Lysar stood now, leaning on his carved cane. “Darkfang does not crown the loudest voice. Or the bloodiest fists. It crowns loyalty to the laws of the Moon.” Kade met the elder’s gaze. “Then call the Moon. Let her decide.” The council exchanged glances. Lysar nodded once. “So be it.” An old horn, carved from the tusk of the first hunted beast, was brought out. Lysar lifted it with reverence and blew a single note. Low. Haunting. It echoed through the mountain’s spine like a death knell.

Owen removed his shoes too. "Come here.." Leon grabbed his shoulder and pulled him to lay down on his thigh. "Sleep, I'mma take my nap too. Oh wait! We should set an alarm for tomorrow." "Why tomorrow? Why not at 4:30pm so we can pack our things?" Owen frowned. "Oh.. I forgot about that." "You're getting older now, Leon Yu." "What did you call me?" "What? Should I call you simba instead? Simba is too cute than you are so it's a no."