Black Gates Lotr Novels & Stories

I finally whispered, my voice sounding incredibly small in the quiet car. "To fix your mistake," Ronan replied smoothly, not bothering to turn his head. Twenty minutes later, the car slowed down, passing through a set of massive, towering iron gates flanked by armed security guards. We pulled up the winding driveway of Blackthorne House. The estate loomed out of the dark misty rain like a gothic fortress, constructed of heavy, dark stone and surrounded by centuries-old oak trees. The door was thrown open by a silent guard holding a large black umbrella.

Unlike hers, this one flickered with orange fire. “His name is Lioran. From the mountains of Ashkara. He didn’t want to be found.” “Why?” Ivy asked. “Because he believes we’re too late.” Silence fell. “Lioran says the Gate beneath the Blackwater Vale is already cracking. That he’s heard whispers from beyond it… voices of those long dead.” Jayden’s expression hardened. “What did you tell him?” Aelin stepped into the center of the room, her voice low but clear.

Massive stone ribs arch overhead, blackened with soot and old magic, bone banners dangling from rusted chains. And at the center of it all— A gate. Not iron. Not stone. But bone, real bone. The Maw. I heard whispers in the blood halls once, back when my chains were lighter, back when the guards thought I couldn’t hear through the wolfsbane fog. About the final door. About what it costs to open it. Kael slows—just for a breath—as we approach. His hand drops instinctively to the hilt of his blade. His shoulders hunch tighter like every muscle in him remembers what waits on the other side.

His eyes met those of Gouria's. "Ria?" he asked, getting on his feet. He reached for him but his hand went around Gouria. "How?" he asked. "I'm running out of time, I may be dead before you reach the Dark Lord's Castle." "On the Hills?!" Anderios asked and resumed his running back out from the forest. "Dark Lord!" he yelled to Xrysos and they all took off at an unrecognizable speed. ********* The horrid stench filled the air as they neared the Blacks Gates.

“More are coming.” My heart skips. “How many?” Gaven asks sharply. The boy shakes his head slowly. “Not just from Eastmarch.” His voice trembles. “From all of them.” He swallows hard. “Once they hear Blackmoor has opened its gates…” His eyes fill with tears. “…everyone will come.”

"This is the Shadow Realm, Lunara. This is where your people come from. Where we come from." *We.* The word sent shivers down my spine. All my life, I had been alone. An orphan. An outcast. Now someone was telling me I belonged somewhere, with him. We walked toward the castle gates, and I noticed the ground beneath our feet. Not grass or dirt, but smooth black stone that reflected the purple light like water. With each step, ripples spread out from our feet in silver circles. The gates opened without anyone touching them. They were made of the same black stone as everything else, but carved with symbols that hurt my eyes to look at. When I tried to focus on them, they seemed to move and shif

“But the closer we get, the stronger the resistance will become.” --- When they finally reached the outskirts of the city, they found themselves standing before a massive gate forged from blackened steel and adorned with intricate carvings depicting scenes of creation, destruction, and rebirth. At its center was a single rune glowing faintly—a keyhole waiting to be unlocked. “How do we open it?” Lucas asked cautiously, eyeing the structure warily. Before anyone could respond, Bryan’s spectral form appeared beside them, his expression grim. “With blood,” he said quietly, his voice heavy with regret.

If it were Baxter, he would be alone, and the longer I look the longer I am convinced that it is two figures and not one alone. There is one part of the land not drenched in silver moonlight. One black scar, scoured into rock. It lies almost central within Blackmarsh lands, to the north-west of the house. All the family have been there at some point, although some only once in their lives. As I watch, the two figures approach that shadowed place, pause, and are then swallowed up by the darkness.

Lifting a hand, I motioned for the others to stop as I continued to let my eyes take in the area. I had always known that Doragon were more primitive than other packs, but I hadn’t expected it to be to this extent. Up ahead was a large black castle with flags that rose into the sky the color of blood. Stakes with what I assumed were the heads of their enemies were scattered around the grounds. Some of which still seemed to be fresh, while others were in different forms of decay. The whole thing was encased by a large metal gate with sharp spikes, ensuring that no one could escape and, even more importantly, that no one could get in. It seemed that infiltrating the area was going to be more d

"Ezra said, Ezra set there up against her friend's grave for a little while. Then she heard some noises she knew no one else was out there. She walked toward the noises and she saw a goblin stuck in one of Nolan's traps. She rushed back to the castle and open the doors then quickly shut them she yelled.