Book Of Gates Novels & Stories

Moana’s POV The secondary gates were massive, twin slabs of ancient mountain oak that had been iron-shod by Lana Vance’s newly organized forge crew. They stood at the throat of the middle tier, a vital line of defense that separated the residential quarters from the outer cattle pens. For a decade, passing through these gates meant enduring a screeching, metallic protest that signaled to the entire valley that someone was moving between the worlds of the privileged and the damned. Now, as Eldrick pushed the heavy left timber back with a single, casual press of his palm, the gate swung on its fresh oil-slicked hinges in absolute, ghost-like silence.

“It shows four gates—north, south, east, and west. Each said to lead to realms not tethered to this one.” He gave a dry huff. “I’d show it to you, but it’s back in the jeans I had to strip off downstairs.” Lazarus gave a low hum, not quite a chuckle. “No need,” he said, folding one hand over the other. “I’m familiar.” His gaze sharpened just slightly. “What is it you wish to know?” Julian leaned forward, eyes fixed on the vampire king. “Are the gates real?” For the first time, Lazarus hesitated.

However, this connection between her and this collection of vagabond rebels did nothing to aid his assurance that Chiri would return unscathed from her next assignment. Unestablished as an entity at the time she had met them on the train, the group had chosen to unify under their current title after this event. Only four gateways lending their powers to the Alliance, the Moon Gate was a reference to a power that had been shunned from its walls. The fifth gateway only mentioned in some ancient scriptures, it had become nothing but a myth over the centuries. A gate of the spiritual realm, it was typically associated with life and death. Fabled to transcend the Day and Night Gates as the source

They’ve breached the outer walls, their armor and skin gleaming, their weapons soaked in the multi-colored blood of the evil creatures they’re cutting down. “We need to get inside while they’re occupied,” Rowen says as we run toward the gates. “Before reinforcements show up.” “Anyone see a way in?” Alexander asks, scanning the structure. The gates are obvious—two massive obsidian stone doors, smooth and polished to a mirror shine. They gleam in the combined glow of hellfire and angelic light. You can see where they’ll part, but there’s no handle, no lock, no seam to manipulate. The clash of war echoes around us, the sky full of cries and steel. I see the four Thrones fly out to meet three fi

The doors were labelled with planets of the solar system except Earth; they were not labelled for figurative purpose because each door actually leads to the planets mentioned; those doors were known as “Dimensional Gates” Eric opened a brown door in front of him which had no tag, the door led to a large library, he climbed up three steps and was standing in the large room full of book shelves; one could spend a life time dedicated to reading and still not finish the books in this library. Mystical books of various sizes and titles like: Eye of the universe, Esoteric Time science, Time and Matter, Anti-matter and Gods, The way of Nova, The way of Elohim, The trinity, Mastering the Magic of Da

The air in the room suddenly felt thick, charged with the scent of pine and raw, predatory aggression. ​"That's impossible," Orion growled, his voice a low vibration that seemed to shake the very bookshelves. He stepped forward, his massive chest heaving. "That gate is reinforced with three-inch thick silver plating and ancient Thorne blood-seals. It hasn't been opened since the Great War. It’s only accessible by those with the highest security clearance in the North." ​"Then one of your Council members is a liar," Caleb said. His voice was dropping into that low, predatory register that made the hair on Elara’s neck stand up.

I heard Norgarth mumble under his breath. “What is that sound? Who is that? Do you know?” I looked at Norgarth and grabbed him for shirt. He looked at me with a confused expression on his face. I ran and followed the source of the sound. It led me to a place with doors different from any other doors in Macabantrah. A faded number 7 could be seen on the top of the iron gate. Gates seemed to be compelled by some heavy and ancient magic. I tried to open them with brute force, but I couldn’t. I tried to break them with the chthonic axe, but nothing happened.

Aruna whispered. Gabriel. The Eighth Founder. Proof. Physical proof. He had existed. He had never been a myth. He had simply been erased. Dante reached toward the gate. The moment his fingers touched the metal— A loud mechanical sound echoed through the mountains. Everyone drew weapons instantly. The gate began opening. By itself. Slowly. The enormous steel doors separated with a grinding noise. Revealing darkness beyond. Nobody moved. Nobody breathed. The gate stopped. Fully open. An invitation.

The thought of Callum being held in place is a powerful aphrodisiac. I lead him in through the key-card activated door, and down the hallway to my room. Thankfully, the Uber driver parked where I’d been picked up earlier, which is a short distance from my room. Something I’m grateful for more so now than earlier, because my mind is racing with what Callum’s reactions might be to my various tools. Particularly the ones made out of suede and outfitted with little “whips.” Oh, you’ll be tons of fun, Callum. I tug on his lapels, feeling him lag a little. Obediently, he picks up his pace. Once we reach my door, I swipe my keycard over the lock and we slip into room 273.

he nodded toward the yard, "has dulled my sense of the Gate." "Until now." I stroked the soft fur of his head as he sighed, the heat of his breath warming my leg even through my jeans. "Until now. And, to be fair, Gates are very well guarded, for obvious reasons. They are pathways, Syd, between here and the realm. If some mortal were to stumble on one, the consequences could be catastrophic." "So what's up with this one?" I had to press my hand against my left knee to keep it from jiggling in impatience.