Invisible Military Cloak Novels & Stories

He laid it reverently upon the table. King Eryn gestured. “Take them.” Aaron stepped forward first, unfolding his, the red cloak spilling like a drop of blood across his hands. Alaric followed, holding his own. The fabric was heavy, dense with meaning. “You will wear these cloaks into Selvane,” the king said. “And you will return with them still on. They will be your guide; what shields you, what binds you home. These cloaks mark you as the sons of Eldoria and Veridia alike. Not prey. Not martyrs. Warriors who live.”

They had seen too much, lost too many, and they would not allow their people to fall to darkness again. King Maxwell stood tall in front of them all, his arm linked tightly with mine. Alpha Farrell stood proudly to my other side, the wind catching his silver cloak, the mark of his title. Together, we wore war garments woven from threads infused with protective runes and old enchantments. They shimmered under the light. Our cloaks were heavy, not just with magic but with responsibility.

He didn’t think of him as a reader. Damon opened a huge cabinet from the side of the room and pulled out a bloody red cloak. It looked familiar to her. “Wait… is that-“ “No. She’s not the only one who has this.” Harper frowned. It was kind of anti-climactic to the positive emotions she was feeling at the moment that she has to wear Shahila’s cloak. “What is it then? Who does it belong to?” “We have lots of these. For emergency purposes. Black’s for the men.”

"They cannot unless you wish it. You felt the magical field as you stepped off the man-made ground and onto the fresh earth. That was a masking spell to make you vanish from those who look this way. Only those who you bring with you or you wish to see you will be able to do so. The magical field also deters people from venturing this way. They may see the water and plant life, but as they draw nearer, it diverts them another way, so they won't even know they headed this way in the first place." Rhychard nodded his approval. "Sort of like a cloaking device. Now that will be handy." This time, it was the elf's turn to look at him with confusion. "I am not familiar with this cloaking device." R

At first glance it looked like an ordinary jacket. Until she unfolded it. Tiny metallic fibers shimmered beneath the lights. Pamela's eyes widened. "No way..." Marcus stepped beside her. "What is it?" She examined the seams. The hidden electronics. The woven material. Then looked up. "I think..." "...it's a cloaking device." Silence. She pressed a tiny switch hidden beneath the collar. The fabric shimmered. For a brief second it almost disappeared against the wall behind it. Marcus blinked. "...That's impossible."

Blue for students, green for faculty, violet for magical constructs. And there, just beyond the scrying history terminal, red. A single strand. Faint. Almost translucent. But there. Red meant cloaking. Someone had masked their signature while moving through a monitored zone. Not erased it, that was harder, nearly impossible without consequence, but distorted it enough to avoid standard detection. A cloaked visitor in the upper archive wasn’t necessarily criminal. But cloaked and unlogged? That was something else entirely. I followed the red strand as it snaked between the west stacks, circled the north wing, then doubled back, an irregular pattern, like someone scouting rather than searching

The rest all have this same deep forest green cloak over their clothing. I’m not sure if the Rift is slowing down the battle for my sake or if I am so used to watching battle that it feels as if time has slowed, but the black and grey cloaked figures appear to be all male based on size and the width of their shoulders. Their movements are broad and sharp, more aggressive. The forest green cloaks seem to be more ceremonial, with flecks of something metallic woven in. Not something you would see on a traveller. Their movements seem to be more fluid.

They looked pathetic—starving, hollow-eyed men wearing ragged, faded crimson cloaks draped over rusted, scavenged pieces of Starved Iron armor. But the terror in their eyes vanished the moment they saw us. It was replaced by the fanatic, unyielding zeal of a dead empire. "For the Iron Crown!" the lead soldier screamed, his voice cracking from years of breathing toxic dust. He didn't draw a sword. He reached into a padded leather pouch on his chest and pulled out a small, thick glass vial. Inside the glass, a few ounces of pitch-black, bioluminescent water swirled violently, desperate to expand.

"Elena, the entire city has been turned into a 'Null-Zone.' If you go in there, your 'Holy Fire' will be like a flare in a dark room. Every Husk within five miles will home in on your heartbeat." "Then I'll just have to make sure my heart doesn't skip a beat," I said, checking the seals on my makeshift tactical gear. I had traded my charred leather for a suit of "Stealth-Silk"—a prototype fabric that absorbed light and heat, originally designed to help wolfless spies move through the Blackwood forests. I looked at Leo and Ace. They were standing by the transmitter, their faces grim. They weren't crying. They were soldiers now, a transformation that was the cruelest "face-slap" of all.

After that, we went back to our room to take a shower and get ready. When I finished taking a shower, I took out my uniform, gosh, it's so simple but she's beautiful, because it's just Coak with a Color gold lining on the side of its sleeve and a Campo de Iris Academy logo on its heart, she By the way, the cloak that serves as our uniform has three colors, black, white, gold, when you wear black it means you are a man, when it is white it means you are a woman, and when you wear gold it means you are one of the royalties, as for the interior, they say we will take care of our interior, even if you don't have an interior you can hahaha...