Black Gates Lotr Novels & Stories

Only another piece. A sudden tremor shook Blackthorn. Not violent. Gentle. Like a heartbeat beneath the earth. The First Gate. The connection brightened instantly. Then... Every candle in the village square went out. Darkness swallowed the territory. Only the fractured sky and the glowing well illuminated the night. A child cried somewhere nearby. Then Footsteps. Hundreds of them. Not inside Blackthorn. Outside the walls. Slow. Steady. Marching in perfect rhythm. Every warrior turned toward the gates.

Behind them: Seraphine, carrying the decoy child they still protected, refusing to leave her unguarded, and a small strike team of the most loyal betas, chosen for speed and silence. The grove lay deep in contested territory, halfway between Blackthorn lands and the old Ironfang border, ringed by ancient oaks whose branches twisted like claws. The map from Riven’s corpse had marked it clearly: a clearing with a single standing stone at its heart, blackened by centuries of ritual fires. They reached the ridge overlooking the grove just as moonrise began, thin silver light bleeding across the treetops.

“I don’t even know what I’m doing.” “You will,” Silas said. “But not here.” Caleb pointed down the path with a shaking hand. “Look.” Ahead, the moss ended abruptly at a sheer rise of black stone carved with the same runes as the tree in the clearing. An archway gaped in the rock, its interior as dark as a starless sky. “Black Hollow’s threshold,” Mara whispered.

A part of her recognized him, and for reasons she couldn’t explain, it hadn’t felt like a betrayal to save him. “Why are you in my forest?” Lia asked, her voice sharp. “You’re far from home, pureblood.” His gaze flickered to the satchel lying beside him. He reached for it with slow, deliberate movements. “I came for the Heart of the Greykin.” Lia’s eyes widened, her heart skipping a beat. The **Heart**. The mythic artifact that had haunted her people’s legends for centuries. It was said to have the power to break the curse of the Greyskin—though no one truly knew where it was.

But he nodded. “She was, he said, hoarsely. “The runes on the gate… they’re leading somewhere. I saw it. Not clearly. But it’s south. Across the Black Hollow.” Lucian grimaced. “That’s dead land.” “Dead,” Serena echoed. “But not empty.” They moved at dawn. The woods opened to jagged paths of rock. The trees here were leafless, just crooked limbs clawing like fractured fingers at the gray sky. As they descended deeper, the world grew quieter. Not even the wind dared make a sound.

he muttered. Renna gave a small laugh that ended in a cough. “Careful. Overconfidence feeds their magic too.” Nicklaus didn’t reply, but his eyes burned ahead into the fog. They rode until the moon climbed high, the mountain looming before them. At its base, an old stone gate rose from the ground, carved with twisted faces and runes that glowed faintly blue. Renna stopped her horse, trembling slightly. "And we are here, this is it,” she whispered. “Mount Graven.”

Elliot whispered after her retreating figure: “Then he better not fail.” The war room of Blackstone Keep was lit only by the flicker of green fire. Maps were scattered across the obsidian table, each marked with blood-red ink—strategic points, kingdoms, fortresses. But Malric wasn’t looking at the maps. He stared into the shimmering portal before him, its edges pulsing with ancient, malevolent energy. From within the darkness, a voice slithered. > “You summon us again, little mortal. What would you bleed this time?”

he urged. "I promise to stay safe too." With a final, meaningful glance, he opened the door and stepped through it, leaving a trail of cold air in his wake. As the door slammed shut, it seemed to echo against the walls of my heart. My heart lashed out in my chest as I walked back to the window and looked out into the city. Half of the city was on fire, painting the sky with ominous orange and red hues, and my heart sank. They want to bring down Stormridge. I looked down into the courtyard, catching a glimpse of the warriors in their Lycan forms, their silhouettes marked by the firelight. Among them, I spotted Malik, his figure distinct even among them all. My thoughts swirled with confusion

And although he couldn’t see it, he knew there were highly-fortified walls above the mountains, with fat round towers to keep watch of the border. Ahead of the wide, snowy road—the village of Whiteground stood at the foot between the two mountains. Seeing the houses built with stones, the vast landmass, and the loud animal screeches had made Kael realize the huge differences between Frostwood village and here. There were no trees—only the cold rocks and metals filled the ground. At the end of the village rose the Cold Gates; a high wall with two towers and a black portcullis in between… and south beyond that wall laid the territory of the Galadhor region. “Let’s go,” Luna Stormwind spoke beh

Far beyond the borders of Blackthorn, the brief peace ended with a terrifying shiver. Inside the Black Fortress, the structure groaned under a sudden wave of dark pressure. The Eclipse Gate rumbled violently as another massive crack spread across its surface, black smoke pouring from the fissure. This time, a physical figure stepped completely through the void. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and clad in heavy black armor that seemed forged from living, writhing shadow. His eyes burned a fierce, unholy crimson through the slits of his helm. He dropped to one knee before the great dark mirror where Nyxar's presence lingered.