How To Spawn A Warden In Minecraft Novels & Stories

And their eyes—if you could call them eyes—were nothing but pits of swirling starlight. They didn’t run. They drifted. And even from here, I could feel their gaze like claws dragging over my skin. “Climb!” the stranger barked. We scrambled upward, hands and feet finding whatever purchase they could. My wolf stirred weakly in my chest, growling low, but she didn’t rise. Not yet. The first Warden reached the base of the Spire. Its hand—long, spindled, gloved in shadow—touched the stone, and frost bloomed outward in veins of silver.

The Wardens moved in perfect formation — four lines, staggered, their mirrored masks catching the pale moonlight. Each carried a crossbow already loaded with silvered bolts; each step forward was deliberate, as if they were closing an iron trap. Snow crunched under Killian’s boots as he backed toward the slope. Shadows curled at his fingertips, ready to lash. “Varrow wants you breathing,” the lead Warden called, voice filtered through the mask. “Don’t make us ruin that for him.”

Keagan shouted, pointing to a tall building not far away. "Follow me!" Ward immediately led his men to that building. He was determined to take down the sniper first, otherwise, they could not defeat the Grandset’s people today.

Damien Vale. It wasn’t scratched out. It was glowing. And next to it? Elara Vale. There was a new word under mine: Bearer. The shard I held pulsed—just once. Then died. And went completely silent. “No…” “Welcome to the ledger,” a voice behind me said. I turned and spotted a shape enrobed in black ice. The Warden. His face was a wilderness of runes and veins, but the force within him was irrefutable. “Long time been waiting for you,” he said. “You and your precious shard.” I raised my hand, but the shard did not respond, and then he smiled.

Wearing armor made of the same shifting silver grass, moving like water. She stopped five feet from me and then tilted her head then smiled slightly, too slightly and every survival instinct in my entire existence stood up and saluted. “My, my,” she murmured. Her voice was warm honey over cold steel. “A mortal little hybrid wandered into my garden.” Hybrid. The word slapped me. My entire body went cold. “Who...what are you?” She stepped closer, the grass whispering under her feet. “I am the Warden of the Deepwood. Protector of lost things. Keeper of rare things.”

Zuri watched the transformation, a look of profound, artistic satisfaction on her face. She loved this part. She loved taking the fragile, human spirit and breaking it into a mindless weapon. "He is a strong one," Zuri noted, stepping back and casually wiping a speck of violet sludge from her leather cuff. "Put him in the drop-chute tonight. Send him down to the jungle. The Vanguard needs target practice this week to keep their morale high." "Yes, Captain," the Warden nodded. Zuri turned her back on the howling, newly forged monster, walking slowly back down the aisle of terrified, cowering men.