Brockton's Celestial Forge Novels & Stories

"Our parents never mentioned a World Forge. They talked about the Cradle Song, the beacon, the Origin Blood. But a physical forge?" "It’s not physical," Dr. James Miller’s voice echoed through the ruined doorway. Jack’s father stepped into the lab, flanked by a squad of heavily armed Void Kindred who had thawed from their localized time-stop. The older scientist looked exhausted, his lab coat covered in white dust, but his eyes burned with sudden clarity. "The World Forge isn't a place you can just fly a spaceship to. It’s a conceptual anchor. And it’s exactly what Eleanor and I were researching twenty years ago before the Fenrir Council shut us down." Jack stood up, the Genesis Coin humming

The red smoke swirled around the two creatures in the cage as I spoke. "Fallain agus beòthail bhon bhroinn seo cho diadhaidh. Gabh na pàisdean sin le aois is ùine. Tilg air adhart iad san àm ri teachd seo dhòmhsa. Spìon iad mar ghleoc sa phrìomh àite. An latha a thèid am breith." (("Healthy and vibrant from this womb so divine. Take these babies with age and time. Throw them forward into this future of mine. Spin them like a clock in its prime. The day they are born" ))

BROCK “Damn, we must be the first ones here,” I say as I pull up to the curb in front of the Stillwater packhouse and cut the engine. True to his word, Gray called a council meeting the day after I returned from Denver. This time, though, we’ve got a few others joining us in addition to the council- Brooke and Quinn, because they’re leading the charge with IT these days, Astrid, because she’s our connection to our Denver allies and has the most information about the shadow pack through her visions, and Fallon, because she wasn’t about to sit this one out while everyone else’s mates participated. Jared’s on the council as my beta, but he had some business to attend to, so he told Astrid and I

Even if they managed to destroy it, they were going to have a big surprise. The giant adamantite was moved there, bound with heavy chains and pinned with long spikes against the ground. That was my work. Even if the brothers have the strength to remove them, they didn’t have the time to unarm dozens upon dozens of time bombs converted from the hundreds of warheads all over the underground. The smiths from different guilds in Rockflower had been tinkering them after the moon appeared before they made their escape with the rest of the townsfolk. “Fifteen seconds!” Raja bellowed. At the same time, the Storm Brothers emerged from the bridge.

They didn't cross the liquid brass; they began to circle the perimeter, their featureless iron visors tracking us like wolves at a fence. "The balance shifts," the Keeper of the Forge hummed, its massive eight-foot brass form towering over the central anvil. The volcanic orange light inside its helm flared with a blinding, rhythmic cadence as it raised the long-handled forging hammer. "The dead flesh fractures the thermal line. The hybrid fire cannot seat while the wolf rots." "He doesn't rot!" I roared, forcing my raw, peeled palms onto the glowing lodestone beneath me.

Unmoving. And glowing. Their chests pulsed with red light—same molten glow as the pit. Same heartbeat hum beneath our feet. “They’re asleep,” Mason whispered. “They’re charging,” Asher corrected grimly. My blood turned to ice. “This isn’t a rift,” I realized, my voice barely audible. “It’s a forge.” Asher swore under his breath. “They’re building an army.” “How long do we have?” Mason asked. Asher’s knuckles went white on his sword hilt. “Not long enough.”

Making a five-mile-wide, billion-ton durasteel sphere fly isn't engineering. It's a hostage negotiation with physics. By dawn, the crater of Neo-Angeles looked like the world's most chaotic chop-shop. Thousands of Revers, Iron Wolves, and Paladins were swarming the six massive, dormant Prime Forges that surrounded the grounded Ark. The air was thick with the smell of ozone, cutting torches, and the sweat of an army working against a seventy-two-hour doomsday clock.

"If we don't build armor today, there won't be a world left to plant on tomorrow. Open the Forge." Deep beneath the Kunlun-Ark mountain, gears the size of cities groaned to life. The ground trembled violently as a massive, circular elevator shaft iris-opened in the center of the courtyard, revealing a descent into a glowing, molten-orange abyss. "Recruits! Step into the Forge!" Caleb roared. One by one, the raw Lycan warriors descended into the belly of the ship. Scarlett met Caleb at the control deck of the fabrication bay. The room was a dizzying array of holographic blueprints and massive 3D-printing robotic arms.

I wave my arms up to show him what I mean. "You like beast wagons with butterfly doors?" He pinches his lips together, nodding his head seriously. "It might be a bit late to get a custom Bugatti wagon built from the Celestial Moon Forge for tonight. Same for the McLaren forge. But if your inner wolf really wants one of those rides, and you are fine with taking one straight off the lot, I can make it happen. I can make some magic scrying calls right now." He pulls out his crystal stone.

"The Star-Forge? The legendary sky-altar where the first Sovereign Crowns were forged?" ​"The very same," I confirmed, turning around within his broad arms to look up into his striking face. "According to these recovered ledgers, the Star-Forge isn't a myth. It is a dormant orbital engine hovering ten miles above The Celestial Peak—the highest mountain in the Northern Ridge." ​"And someone is trying to re-ignite its reactor," Ethan calculated smoothly, a sharp, dangerous glint entering his golden gaze. ​"If an enemy faction locks control of the Star-Forge," I explained, twirling my stylus, "they won't just manufacture sky-ships. They will gain access to atmospheric orbital strikes capable of