Arknights Horns Novels & Stories

Now they kneel in reverence to the Hollow’s rightful queen. One of them stands. An elder, white-bearded and broad-shouldered beneath a long robe. He raises a horn to his lips—ceremonial, carved from obsidian and wound with leather—and though we hear nothing, I see the reverence in the way he holds it. The pride in his stance. The way every head turns toward him in stillness. He blows it. We see the motion, the way his chest expands, how the others close their eyes. I feel the weight of that silence. No sound crosses the barrier. But I know the call has gone out.

Then, as the sun dipped low, a thunder shook the gates. Drums rolled like distant storms. Horns blared through the city. The people rushed into the streets, and silence fell heavy as stone when they beheld the sight. The army of the Horned King had arrived. Armored riders clad in black steel rode at the front, their spears tipped with crimson banners bearing the sigil of the curved horn. Behind them, endless ranks of warriors filled the horizon—winged men whose shadows darkened the sky, horned women cloaked in smoke, beast-legged hunters with eyes that gleamed like predators. And at the center, pulled by obsidian steeds that snorted fire, came a carriage of iron and gold, vast and terrible,

That he was going on a 7 month long trip to nowhere? “I will get it for you right away Your Majesty,” Captain Zakai was not as insistent on keeping mute like the others. Unlike the other two, he had met Mane before. He knew the young boy was unordinary because he held such great power at a young age, but now that he knew that the boy’s parents were actual gods, a lot of things made sense. Also, he quite liked the boy. And he trusted his prince. Soon a large horn was placed before the Western Emperor. The horn was the size of a large Warhammer, yet it was completely overlaid with gold. This was the Royal War Horn, a property of the Western Royal Family. The Emperor took a deep breath before b

“The bloodline continues.” Kael’s jaw tightened. “You knew.” Thorne smiled faintly. “Of course, I suspected. That is why she had to die.” Rage burned clean through Kael. He stepped forward. But Elara stopped him with one hand. “No.” Thorne laughed quietly. “You think this ends with me?” He reached into his cloak and pulled out something small. A horn. Black. Cracked. He blew it. The sound was low and unnatural. The ancient wolves stiffened.

Norris’s whole body vibrated as he screamed into the night. They called him by name. Arkyn stood tall, nodded to his men and began to move out towards them. They would go down fighting. Arkyn took a deep breath and ordered his men through mindlink to move into fighting formation. He locked eyes with the leader and threw his hands down, his wolf claws pushing through his finger tips. He would kill him and ensure this never happened again.

Are appeared tall and proud once more, and as he rose in his stirrups, he screamed out in a loud voice that no one had ever heard a man attain before. Mr. Trumpet snatched a large horn from their banner-bearer and blew such a blast on it that it blew apart. And all the horns in the host were immediately raised in song, and Sharvenneil's horns were blowing like a tempest on the plains and thundering in the hills at that hour, and Averiya joined in the blowing in honor of her Princess and her land. Now is the time to ride, now is the time to ride! Embark on a journey to the battlefields.

Every few steps, I paused to listen for movement, the creak of a branch, the whisper of leaves, anything that might signal Sebastian’s advance. In the market square, I found an old warhorn, hanging unused since the last peace talk. I blew dust from its silver surface and tested a sharp note. The deep call echoed across the clearing. A dozen villagers and soldiers dropped what they held, startled. I let the horn rest against my shoulder. “You’ll want that at the gates tonight,” I told the captain of the guard. “If Sebastian moves in force, sound it at once.” He nodded gravely, eyes on the horn. “Yes, Lord Henry.”

The minutes dragged like hours. The wind grew louder, whistling through the empty iron grates of the keep. I could feel the distance stretching the bond between my pulse and the Reawakened; the farther Killian went, the harder I had to pull on the silver in my blood to keep the dead guards anchored. My chest ached, a cold, hollow sensation spreading through my ribs. Then, from the high ridge, a horn blew. It was not the hunt horn of the Blackwood. It was the sharp, high-pitched horn of the Iron-Claw pack, a signal of distress.

Claire jumped in. Claire was already in her mask. She walked over and opened the box in front of me. Inside was a black, filigree, venetian style with rhinestone embellishment mask. It suited my dress and shoes perfectly. Clare held it out to me. I took it and held it up to my face, I wrapped the side around and passed Claire the black silk ribbon. She tied it just under my loose bun to hide the knot and let ribbon flow into my hair. “Perfect,” she exclaimed.

Alex Scott was powerful, influential and heir to the pack who matched their standard and power. He wanted this alliance with the Darkmoon Pack. The alliance with Arthur Scott. It would make their pack’s power unmatchable with this alliance. “And Arthur’s daughter?” This time his reaction was immediate. A thunder-like current ran into his bloodstream and hunger blazed through his golden orbs which didn't go unnoticed by Giovanni. “Yes,” Zenith lifted his chin, declaring his future Luna. “I’ve decided to take Arthur Scott’s elder daughter as my mate.” Giovanni blinked. Confusion instantly twisted his features.