Arknights Horns Novels & Stories

Their deadly looks are only outdone by the deadly Neron weapons they point at the two of us. But there in the middle is a woman. Her eyes are full of wonder and fear, but she’s trying very hard to mask both right now. She’s petite, average height. She has soft, curly brown hair, and warm brown eyes. Her cheekbones are sharp and her hands small and delicate. But I know the power behind her voice. “Valen Nero, Nova Ainsley,” she says, stepping forward. “I’m Arden Black.”

I smile as Theon finishes his oath, and the Council's member nods and then turns towards me. "I, Leah Waters, marked mate of Theon Blackwood hereby pledge my loyalty towards Alpha Theon and Black Moon Pack and vow to lead, support, and protect his rule and prosperity of Black Moon Pack as its Luna," I say, feeling the weight of this words, feeling the responsibility it places on my shoulder, feeling the new beginning starting for me. "I, Hank Stone hereby pledge my loyalty towards Alpha Theon, Luna Luna, and Black Moon Pack and vow to lead, support, and protect their rule and prosperity of Black Moon Pack as its Beta," Hank says.

"I know." She stepped beside me. Her eyes darted to the stone, to the shifting shadows between the broken columns. "Is it the stars again? Or something worse?" "Both." We didn’t have time to speak further. From the northern ridge, a sound echoed—low and metallic. A horn. One not used since the War of Teeth. Sabine went pale. "That’s not ours." "It’s Liora." Sabine didn’t question how I knew. She’d stopped doing that.

A mate mark. “I’m happy for you,” Lydia said. Thalia smiled. “I’m happy too. And Knox… he’s a good guy. I’ve seen how you two look at each other.” Lydia smiled faintly. “Yeah, I guess so.” Thalia pulled out a necklace. The pendant was a woman’s head with snakes for hair—Medusa. It looked golden, but it felt alive. “This is my parting gift,” Thalia said, placing it around Lydia’s neck. “I can’t say goodbye at the garage—it’ll break me. So remember me until we meet again.”

“I’ll be outside, at the entrance to the Circle. If anyone interferes, or if Malakai tries to bring outside help into the fight, I’ll take them down. But getting them all the way here—into this chamber—will be your task.” Our agreement was silent. Damian and Regnar exchanged a look, and Damian nodded. Regnar struck his fist to his chest in a gesture of assent. The plan was madness, but it was the only chance we had. When the first faint orange light seeped through the narrow window, the Nest trembled. The sound that penetrated the thick stone walls was not thunder, but a deep, resonant vibration: the sound of the Horns, which for thousands of years had marked the beginning of the Challenge.

“They’ve already breached us.” “And they’re not in uniform,” Arwyn added. “Mercenaries, spies—maybe both.” Before they could say more, the sharp blare of a horn cut through the night. It wasn’t the deep triple-note of northern signal calls—this was shorter, harsher, alien to the fortress. Shouts rose from the battlements. Boots pounded on stone as guards scrambled to their posts. The heir’s voice rang from the hall behind them: “Positions! To the walls!” Eolan and Arwyn sprinted for the nearest stair to the ramparts. The wind hit them like a living thing at the top, tearing at cloaks and hair.

Caroline, a she-wolf who has been considered a monster since she was a child, can she break the tragedy spell and find her MATE?

I answer. “I am sure it is confusing for you, but what you just described to us makes sense. Angels tend to have more of a light air scent to them, even the males. Aerian is an exceedingly rare dark angel so the darker scents you are describing are because of that. If I had to guess I would say if she were truly pregnant, I would expect the lighter scents to become more dominant. However, it will depend on the child growing within her. Does your wolf have any special abilities?” Fredrik asked. “Yes, Locke can tell the difference between metals. To him each metal holds a certain scent.” I answered.

Their banners snapped in the wind, marked with the twisted sigil of the Purge. Even from this distance, their presence felt wrong. Not like wolves. Not like Lycans. Something darker. Something corrupted. Ronan’s voice dropped into the deep growl of command. “Sound the Lycan horn.” Within seconds, the answering call echoed from the fortress towers. The great horn’s roar rolled across the valley, summoning every loyal warrior within the walls. Below, soldiers poured into the courtyard, forming ranks with practiced precision. The council members rushed toward the balcony to see the approaching army.

The horns echoed again across the mountains. Deep. Ancient. Not the harsh metallic blasts of Arkhaven’s guardians, and certainly not the eerie calls of the Shadow Army. These horns sounded older—like something that had not been heard in centuries. Luna stood atop the northern wall, the wind whipping her cloak around her legs as she stared into the valley below. The torches were closer now. Hundreds of them. No… Thousands. Lines of flickering fire wound down the mountain pass like a glowing river.