Horns Novels & Stories

When she can't successfully do the intended mission, she just balks and lets out a fury of magic spells. Horned rabbits are the size of a normal cat, with dark fur and white eyes. Their legs are strong that they can easily jump away before any magic spells would hit them. That's why she proposed Santina would lure it close to Evy that she can kill them using her short sword. The second thing she found out, is that Santina doesn't compromise when she's agitated. After not being able to hit it multiple times, Santina has now ceased to listen to Evy's plan and just continued to fire wind cutters as if she were firing a rifle.

and those horns actually. "You're the bargest who barked at me, aren't you?" I asked him, and he smiled wider. "You noticed; how sweet." Conri swung me out and then pulled me back in, even closer this time. "It was the horns that gave you away." I admired the sleek black curves that were partially hidden by his hair. "Do you like men with horns?" He asked with a devilish smile; making me laugh out loud. "Are you trying to get me to call you horny?" I asked after my laughter died away.

There is surely something wrong with him, Dante thought. Reaching home, Sebastian immediately went to the shooting range. Unknown to him, Dante followed him silently. Sebastian picked up a AK pistol and aimed at the dummy. Dante covered his ear as Sebastian fired. The sound from the gun was so loud that Dante thought his ears would rip apart. He hid in a corner, crouching down as he covered his ears. His eyes were closed so he didn't notice Sebastian in front of him. Sebastian squatted in front of him. He held Dante's hand, causing him to flinch. "Sebastian."

The finest tracing of veins in the thin wings made the breath catch in my throat. His head was crowned with two sets of horns. The two closest to the front of his head sat at aggressive angles, as if in provocation of an enemy. A taunt. The two that sat directly behind those curled towards his back, snugged up beside his skull. I wondered, did they provide some sort of protection while he was flying? His body was ripped, every muscle clearly defined and bulging. From his shoulders to the tips of his claws where his fingers should have been. His hips and legs carried the same definition. And just like his hands, his feet ended in giant curved talons.

It rose from the sea slowly, emerging silently from the dark sea like some primordial god. Two great horns, gleaming like dark copper, rose from its head...and most terrifying of all were the rows of thick fangs lining the length of its long, powerful looking jaws. As it rose higher, she could see the long, heavy neck was covered in rough looking scales and the top and sides ridged with jagged spurs of bone and dangerous looking spines which, she imagined, no doubt ran the length of its body.

The light went out — not suddenly, but as if the world itself took a slow, shuddering breath before forgetting how to exhale. When sight returned, it came fractured — flashes of silver and black, fire and mirror, faces illuminated by the glow of something that was no longer the sun. Kael was the first to move. His voice, hoarse but commanding, broke through the stunned silence. “Sound the call! Now!” The old horn — once used only to summon the council during war — rose from the rubble, its tone warped and mournful as it rolled across the mountains. The sound trembled as though even the air resisted its purpose, echoing through both worlds at once.

His wings are leathery and have hooked ‘claws’ on the top joint where they fold back down again. The hair on his head is a thick black line between his horns and ears that run flat along his scalp, but flick up at the ends. His eyes are yellow and glowed gently. His face is probably the most startling bit about him, he has a square face, with a broad nose that looks almost feline, heavy-set brows cover his eyes a little, and his mouth has prominent teeth from his top and bottom jaw. He’s also incredibly muscular, and frowns at Crow when he keeps staring at him,

"Finally." He crossed to the shelf and lifted a hunting horn, old and cracked, its brass tarnished with age. He had not sounded it in nearly two decades. He walked to the door and pushed it open. The cold night air rushed in, carrying the scent of pine and distant snow. He raised the horn to his lips and blew. The sound rolled through the mountains like thunder. For a moment, there was only silence. Then, wolves burst from the tree line. Dozens of them. Their fur was ragged and matted, their eyes gleaming with hunger and desperation, rogues. They moved as a single, snarling tide, their jaws already dripping with spite.

I traced the hand holding the gun, and my sight met that of the pair of eyes that'll forever hunt me. They were bloodred eyes!

It moved, coiled, and circulated through him like blood. One horn had been broken near the base long ago, the fracture jagged but healed, the surface scarred and darkened where it had fused imperfectly. The other curved backward in a brutal sweep, thicker than Apollo’s and ridged along its length, as though designed less for ceremony and more for impact.