Blackstone Fortress Novels & Stories

Ryder got out first, then turned back and looked at me. "Welcome to Blackstone." I climbed out slowly and my breath caught. We were standing in front of a massive fortress carved into the side of a mountain. Dark stone. High walls. Guards everywhere. This was Ryder Blackwood's stronghold. Ryder started walking toward the entrance. One of his rogues grabbed my arm, forcing me to follow. I looked back one last time at the trucks. At the road that led back to Silvercrest. But there was no going back. This was my new prison.

There were all kinds of animals I had never seen before. Our cart was being pulled by what looked like a unicorn, but I wasn’t sure. There were giant wildcats with horns, flying creatures that looked almost human. There were big, beautiful flowers blooming, even in the snow. “Urus is the closest town to the ancient capital and castle. I will take you there. In town, you can find someone that will take you to the ancient castle, but it won’t be free. Not everyone here is as kind as I am. If you find yourself back at the old castle, and you’re in need of work, I can always use a pretty little thing like you.” She cackled, and elbowed my in the ribs.

NYRA'S POV The carriage stopped at the iron gates of the Blackstone Keep, and the first thing I noticed was the silence. Not the soft silence of early morning or the comfortable quiet of empty rooms. This was the silence of a place that had decided long ago it had nothing to prove. The mountains held it on three sides like cupped hands, and the fortress sat at the center of them dark stone, narrow windows, towers that disappeared into low clouds. It did not look like a home. It looked like a conclusion.

No scratch that, were probably using me as a pawn to please themselves and their side pieces. I laid awake in bed, staring at the cracked pristine of the Blackwater chambers. According to the little piece of lore and backstory I'd managed to gather, the Blackwater fortress was one of the most fortified place in the entire pack. It had been built and carved out of pure stone, with the intention of lasting for centuries. It was a fortress like they called it, and best believe that it lived up to its name.

Excitement hums through Lysander - he spots an eagle, then another, wonders aloud how cliffs got their shape, won’t stop wondering. Yet when we reach the lower slopes, something shifts in his manner. Quiet settles over him then. A stillness takes hold. Often his little hand lies across the pony's neck - no pulling, no urging - simply there. Touching. Frost touches the high rocks when we arrive at Blackstone. Built into stone, the fortress looks like it has always been there. Waiting near the gate, Gareth holds Mara tight - both of them watchful, both uneasy. Snow falls slow on their shoulders.

Blackstone appeared just before dawn as the medical convoy approached the last stretch. The estate rose from the darkness beneath sheets of rain and pale security lights, looking less like a home now and more like a fortress preparing for siege. Floodlights swept across the outer walls, showing armed guards rotating along reinforced positions. Some vehicles lined the lower courtyard beneath temporary tactical coverings. And despite the exhaustion pulling at every muscle in her body— The moment Althea saw Blackstone; her pulse accelerated despite the exhaustion pulling at every muscle in her body.

"I'm fine." Even though Scarlett said that, her breathing was obviously unstable. She leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes, trying to seize every second of rest she could get. Seeing her pale face, both Victor and Hilary instinctively quieted down, afraid of disturbing her. Twenty-three minutes later, the military aircraft finally arrived at Blackstone Fortress. If they had been even a few minutes later- the fortress would have completely fallen. The moment Scarlett arrived and took command, the entire battlefield shifted almost instantly.

The Black Citadel did not look like a building. It looked like a wound in the reality of the Northern Wastes. Rising from the glacial ice, the fortress was a monolith of obsidian and jagged steel, pulsing with veins of sickly green light. It sat directly atop the convergence of the ley lines, a parasite drinking the blood of the planet. Inside the command cabin of the Mammoth, the air was thick with the smell of stale coffee and tension. Tristan stood by the periscope, adjusting the zoom. His hands, encased in leather gloves, were steady, but his knuckles were white.

In the distance, silhouetted against the morning sky, stood Vlad's infamous residence. It was not merely a house; it was a fortress, a massive structure built of black, polished granite that seemed to absorb all light and warmth. High, jagged turrets spiked into the air, and the grounds were surrounded by a heavy, spiked iron fence. It was called Stonehaven, though to Cassie, it looked like a tomb. The guard pushed open a small, heavy gate set into the larger fence, and they walked onto the perfectly manicured, yet unsettlingly still, grounds. The air here was colder, heavier, and infused with the scent of damp stone and stale power.

Mum and Dad drove out with a black sedan. “What's up with those two?” Ambrose asked, his brows furrowed. “They've been acting weirdly quiet.” I gave him that, ‘I don't know’ look. *. *. *. *. *. *. * The Blackstone pack house was a thirty-minute ride from ours. We were there in no time. The ride was quiet; no one spoke, not even Ambrose, who chit-chatted on every ride. The Blackstone villa was indeed a sight to behold.