Novel & Cerita Frostfur Warriors

Farewell from the Ghostwriter: I suppose this is the final update regarding the saga of the Ice Wolf and his Hidden Mate. The reality is, this narrative wasn't a fabrication. These individuals are prominent figures within our supernatural community. I altered the specifics—the names, the exact coordinates of the Navarro Ridge, even the specific hockey positions—to prevent a pack war. But truth has a way of breaking through the ice. The parties involved recognized their own heartbeats in the prose. I’ve been served with a formal "cease and desist" by the Navarro legal council.

Saliva dripped like tar from their jaws, and their movements were jerky, twitching unnaturally. “Possessed!” I shouted. Rhett shifted in a blink, a blur of black fur and bared fangs. I called on the cold, let it surge through my veins. It was stronger now—more obedient. A smooth surge of winter power spread outward, coating the earth in frost. The wolves lunged.

They looked like wolves, but their flesh was made of translucent ice, and their eyes were pits of that same grey Void energy Silas had used. "Frost-Walkers," Victor hissed, raising his pulse-rifle. "The Council’s biological experiments. They’ve been cross-breeding Lycan DNA with Void-matter." "They're an insult to my kind," Kael roared, lunging forward. I watched as the King of the North became a whirlwind of fur and fury, but the Frost-Walkers were different—every time he tore one apart, the ice simply refroze, the Void energy knitting them back together.

The sharp, rhythmic barking of commands split the air as the warriors of the Midnight Frost Vanguard scrambled into defensive formations, their heavy steel armor clanking against the stone. "Luna!" Commander Freya burst into the chamber, her hand already gripping the hilt of the massive broadsword sheathed at her hip. Her sharp grey eyes were flashing with a dangerous, feral light. "The southern borders have been breached. A war party from the Bloodstone Pack has bypassed the lower ridges. They are standing directly outside our main perimeter."

Jade blurted out before she could stop herself. Jin seemed surprised for a moment, but then, burst out in laughter. He winked at Jade and whispered, “Old enough.” Embarrassed, Jade tried to find something to distract herself. And to avoid looking at Jin. “What do you think?” Jin said, breaking the silence. Finally getting over her shame, Jade cleared her throat and tried to look serious. “How?” “There is a legend around here… About the four Holy Beasts responsible for protecting the four kingdoms—”

“Heard he was patching in.” Davey’s smile was tentative. “Just a ploy to get the MC’s to go to war over him.” “Why?” “The Night Stalkers asked me to do it. They’ve got beef with him.” “Night Stalkers are dead,” Jake said. Davey shook his head. “No, they’ve been regrouping, rebuilding. Slither’s brother is running things now. They want revenge and they want Wrath without any backup and no retaliation when they take him down.”

Abruptly Thunder spins to a halt within a large hollow, a bowl ringed by rocks and bushes. Alright, pup, so you can move, Thunder snarls, his eyes burning with anger and challenge. Can you fight? Frost is running the show. Frost reponds to the challenge before Thunder’s last word is finished. He never even slows, his momentum adding force as he launches himself at the black wolf. Thunder is big, strong, and he's fought plenty of times before. It’s like fighting Caleb, or Father, all over again. Except there’s nobody to taunt us for playing to our strengths. Nobody to blame us for using our speed, our agility and our wits to overcome our opponent. Frost ducks and dodges and ties Thunder in kn

Her bandages tumbled from her arms, scattering across the dirt. Through the gates, she saw them. Rogues. They came like shadows with fangs, spilling from the treeline in a surge of madness. Lean, filthy, their fur streaked with mud and blood. Their eyes glowed red with hunger and fury. They charged with no order, no sense, only the raw chaos of beasts that had lost themselves to bloodlust. The Stormfang warriors met them with a roar. Claws slashed, steel flashed, bodies collided. The earth shook with the violence. Screams and snarls filled the air until it was thick with the stench of blood and sweat.

Ethan Brownfur was one of the rarest magicians that possessed special talent to induce fragmented soul into a weapon. Fourteen years ago, Ethan had created three rune weapons from the remaining soul of Fenrir, the legendary breath winter wolf, who weaved eternal ice to the surrounding of Blackfrost Kingdom. Ethan presented the Frostbringer to Jayden, a blue-crystal sword that could emit freezing rays; He gave the Hailstorm to Carson, a giant two-handed axe that could summon blizzards and strong winds; lastly, he granted Aiden the Frozenthorn, a gallant white crystal-spear that could raise icicle spikes from the ground.

"Mama, I saw something. A pack in the south. They're not like the Emberkin. They're not fire. They're... cold." "Cold?" "Ice. Frost. They worship stillness, not nothing. They think the Circle is too warm, too loud, too much." "Did they threaten anyone?" "Not yet. But they will." "When?" "Soon." --- I called a council. Not urgent—warning. The Frostfang, Luna Rose called them. A pack in the far south, cold worshippers who rejected the bond. "They're not our enemies yet," I said. "But they will be," Farrah said.