Cinderpelt Warriors Novels & Stories

The thirty elite warriors standing behind me were all thoroughly exhausted and drained out, their shoulders slouched low and their weapons drooping toward the wet earth in absolute defeat. One of the senior warriors, a battle-hardened sentinel named Caleb, marched forward to my position with a deep frown etched into his scarred face. He wiped a mixture of rainwater and sweat from his eyes, his chest rising and falling in rapid, shallow cycles as he stared at me with an intense look of desperation.

The grand doors of the Silver Moon Palace were no longer made of oak and iron; they were a solid slab of lightless black ice that pulsed with a rhythmic, freezing hunger. As Killian stepped onto the frozen flagstones of the courtyard, the air around him began to warp from the sheer intensity of his Alpha fury. Behind him, Cinder and her Sun Pack warriors stood in a jagged line, their copper skin glowing with the fierce radiance of the Tempered Flame. They were the hammer, and the frost was the anvil.

Mom had to work two different jobs as I took over running the shop, but I knew things weren’t going well. That’s when I met Prez and the Wolf Riders MC! They were on the run from their own Enforcers and the president at the time, having failed a coup. The president was forcing their patched members and prospects to do the drugs they were supposed to deal, only allowing them their fix once the drop was done. Even going as far as overdosing on a couple of them, and the women inside the club. Men who didn’t get their fix got aggressive, and on more than one occasion, the fight ended with someone dead on the floor.

His Warrior Hounds were powerful fighters who fought twice as a normal fighter. Howling Ridge was known to have the strongest warriors, and they showcased it—or rather, they would have, if Keegan's men did not suddenly become so weak. Something strange was happening. His Keepers and Warrior Hounds became so weak, they couldn't concentrate on fighting. Keegan watched with perplexity as they fell to the ground, a lot of them being defeated by the enemies. No... His people were getting killed. No. No. No. "We should retreat!" Kalaril shouted over the cacophony. Himself was also weak and couldn't fight any more.

The older ones wore traditional jackets and played with iron balls or walnuts, making a rhythmic clicking sound. In the ruthless world of Cloudsea, where the young perpetually challenge the old, the most formidable figure was Tiger from Southshire, also known as the Black-hearted Fat Mantis. Today, he was at the heart of the action. Present were Wystan Roberts from East Star District, with his fearsome face, earning him the nickname Flying Centipede, and Laird Cole from West Grace District, a towering man with a booming voice, dubbed the Thunder God. Then there was Hugh Reardon from North Gate District, known as the Water Monkey, small in stature but with eyes that twinkled with both cunning

He sounded annoyed. Ciara looked back up. She cleared her throat. “Good morning!” she shouted. No one returned the greeting. “I came here to meet someone.” “We do not welcome anyone’s arrival,” said one of them. “You’d better go.” This turned out to be more difficult than Ciara had expected. But she didn’t want to just give up. “Moon Warriors,” she said. “You are the Moon Warriors pack and you were subjected to a terrible attack nineteen years ago and lost a member of the pack in that incident.”

He waved his hand and unleashed his inscription weapons, confining them using boundary stones within a seal. "Wicked bandits, let's see where you two can run to." These warriors were of different ages, and even the one with the lowest strength was above the Primordial Realm. Fury shot out of their eyes, as if they had seen an enemy who had murdered their father and seized their wife. Coming from all directions, they drew out their weapons glittering coldly in the morning sun. "We seem to be in some trouble." Golden Cicada chanted Buddha's name, and then said, poking gentle fun at the situation, "Almsgiver Ding, it's your move now."

I say, my voice carrying that low, melodic resonance that makes the air around us shiver. I pull away from his grip, but I don't walk away from him. I reach back, my fingers locking into his broad palm, our charcoal-stained hands sealing together like a single weapon. We step out from between the boulders and descend into the amphitheater. The moment my bare feet touch the volcanic rock, the three hundred Southern warriors let out a simultaneous, earth-shaking roar—a rhythmic, subterranean howl that makes the basalt pillars vibrate. They drop to one knee, their heavy iron shields striking the stone with a sound like thunder. The Council guards look at them, then at the massive obsidian wolf-

Felix focused on Cairo Crest, the man who had jumped from the fighter jet. He had a square face and carried an imposing presence. He was clearly no ordinary person as he radiated such a powerful air. Being able to command a fighter jet meant he had to be with the headquarters. After Aiden whispered something to him, Cairo said, "So you're the Dragon Knight working under the Phoenix Warlord? Come here! I am the Tideborne Warlord." Before Xena, there were the Four Great Warlords—the Shadowdragon Warlord, the Warlord of the East, the Warlord of Thunder, and the Tideborne Warlord. Felix had met the first three; today he faced the last.