Black Knights Fortress Osrs Mga Nobela at Kwento

"The door is open." Green code cascaded down the monitor. Noah Kim slammed his palms onto the keyboard, the rapid clacking echoing inside the concrete safe house. Lina Rossi stepped closer, tossing a cup of lukewarm coffee onto the desk. "Talk to me, Noah. What’s hitting us?" "Some asshole is dropping high-frequency data strikes on our infrastructure," Noah barked, his fingers hitting the keys. "A ghost terminal is tearing through the deep web, going straight for our core financial servers." "Can you track the source?"

The castles of the three king clans were unanimously decided to be built at the border of the blackwood forest by the will of their ancestors. The blackwood trees were famous for their versatility and durability that could put most types of metal to shame. The Rogue kingdom strictly manages the logging and processing of the blackwood trees, and it serves as one of the main sources of the kingdom’s income. A crescent wall of blackwood trees tightly surrounded the castle grounds, and Raimere could see the orderly soldiers of the Valerius clan in their black and red leather amors with a distinct silver crescent embracing a white gold rose in full bloom on their chests.

He swung the blade in a circular flourish and slid it back into its sheath expertly. The Knights on the platform, as well as those gathered nearby, broke into applause. Each new Knight was presented with armor and a Khortaal. They each drew their new blade, raising them in salute toward the Dragon. “Black Knights!” boomed Ghaeron, “You are now the sword that defends Edon. The steel that protects the innocent, and banishes the wicked.”

The rumble of distant chaos resonated through the stone halls, growing louder with each passing second. “Stay close,” Sylvester murmured to Rayka, his hand brushing against hers briefly before tightening on the hilt of his blade. Rayka nodded, her wolf instincts sharp as she sensed danger lurking beyond the walls. Seren, her movements fluid and controlled, led the group with Draven at her side, his grim expression masking a fury barely contained. They burst into the courtyard, where the scene unfolded in a chaotic frenzy. Soldiers scrambled to defend the fortress against an onslaught of cloaked attackers who moved with an eerie synchronicity. Their faces were obscured by hoods, and their wea

The pack was positioned before the imposing gates of Eryndor's stronghold, which appeared to have impenetrable walls and a dense, oppressive, and dark aura. The weight of the approaching conflict made the air motionless. With the resolve that had brought them this far, Dominick's eyes were hard and his mind was keen. They would put an end to this now. “All units, move out!” he ordered, his voice like a razor slicing through the quiet. With ferocious determination, the pack charged ahead, their warriors trailing behind. Standing by Dominick's side, Lisa felt the strength of the black magic emanating from the fortress walls, her heart pounding and her thoughts turning into its own battlefield.

To the guard, he growled, “Summon every last soldier. Arm them with the cursed blades. No hesitation—kill on sight. Drench the ground with their blood before they reach these doors.” The guard scrambled to his feet and fled without another word, his footsteps echoing down the corridor. Malrik raised his hand, dark energy coiling around his fingers like living serpents. With a guttural roar, he slammed his palm into the ground. The runes surrounding Lisa pulsed violently, and cracks spread outward across the chamber floor. From those cracks oozed black smoke, thick and choking, that slithered like rivers down the hallways of the fortress. He whispered an incantation, his voice low and seethin

“Vessel.” “So do I.” He glanced at me. “You don’t think it’s a coincidence, do you? That Tess’s ritual needed Celine specifically?” “No,” I said. “And that scares the hell out of me.” *** By dusk, the fortress came into view…Blackrock. A towering stone structure carved into the base of a mountain, half-devoured by ivy and time. Its gates had rusted shut, vines wrapping around iron bars like fingers. No one had stepped inside for years.

The night bled into silence. Raine lay awake, her pulse echoing with the rhythm of the bond. Every heartbeat felt shared — Kael’s fury, Lucian’s hunger, Damon’s restraint — all tangled in her chest like threads of fire and shadow. The Blackthorn fortress loomed beyond the window, silver towers etched in moonlight. It was ancient, powerful, built from stone that remembered blood. She could feel it whispering under her skin. Kael’s voice broke the quiet.

I shuddered, the Hollow retreating for now, though its laugh lingered like smoke in my skull. The forest fell behind us, replaced by cliffs rising against the night sky. Kael carried me to Blackthorn land. The air here was colder, heavier, and laced with iron and salt from the sea crashing against jagged stone. The moonlight cut across towers that rose sharp and glittering, glass panes catching every shard of silver. It was a fortress and a crown, both the house of glass and Kael’s pack. Wolves gathered as he strode through the gates with me in his arms. Some bowed their heads, their gazes fixed in reverence on their Alpha-heir and his mate. Others whispered behind their hands, lips curling

“Of what you’ll become when all of this ends.” The next morning, a package arrived. Wrapped in crimson velvet. I unboxed it in the drawing room. Inside: a ring. Black stone. Encased in gold shaped like thorns. And a note. “Queens don’t kneel. They bleed.” – Eryx I threw the box across the room. Lucien caught it before it hit the floor. His eyes were full of something cold. “He’s trying to claim you.” I lifted my chin. “Then let’s remind him who I am.”