Iron Coffins Book Novels & Stories

The nails screeched. The lid popped open. I took a deep breath. I braced myself for the smell of decay. I lifted the lid and threw it back. I looked inside. The scream died in my throat. There was no skeleton. There were no bones. There was no dust. The coffin was filled with bricks. Red construction bricks. They were stacked neatly in rows to simulate the weight of a body. I stared at them. My mind tried to reject what my eyes were seeing. "It is empty," Kael whispered.

"I knew Sarah was afraid of dark, cramped spaces, that is why I didn't play this game in a dark room. Instead, I thoughtfully chose this glass coffin for her. "I was so considerate of her, yet she's still playing the pity card in front of you guys! She just wants to ruin my game!” Raymond and Donald exchanged glances and nodded slightly. "Tiana is right. This is a transparent coffin and all of us are here watching over her, how could she have a panic attack?" "I doubt she's having an actual attack. She's likely just using us to ruin Tiana's mood." Donald kicked the coffin in dissatisfaction, his tone growing cold. "Quiet down in there! It’s been so long since Tiana got lost and it's rare to

I give a curt nod of my chin, gesturing for his paws to lead my stride through the maze. The pack mortuary is buried deep in the lowest stone level of the prison bunker to keep the rot away from the living cells. After twisting through three blind turns and passing several iron-reinforced corridors, his keys click open a thick lead door. The moment the seal breaks, a freezing, gloomy stench of old blood and refrigeration chemicals blasts straight into my nostrils. To stop rogue corpses from decaying before the council can extract their memories, the cellar is packed with heavy cooling turbines that hum twenty-four hours a sun.

Lucien’s expression darkened. “What was taken?” The guard hesitated. “The First King’s coffin.” The entire hall fell silent. Master Orion’s staff slipped from his hand and struck the marble floor with a sharp crack. His face had gone completely pale. “That is impossible,” he whispered. Lucien frowned. “What was inside it?” The old scholar looked slowly toward the king. “It was never meant to hold a body.” A heavy silence followed. Master Orion swallowed before continuing. “The First King’s coffin was built to hide something far more dangerous than mortal remains.”

Some were stained with blood. Others had broken chains wrapped around them. Adrian stared in disbelief. "What are these?" "They are the endings." "The endings?" "Every possibility." The stranger picked up one thin volume. He opened it. Inside, Adrian saw himself sacrificing his own life to seal the Ninth Cipher forever. The book instantly crumbled into silver dust. Another volume. Adrian abandoned the Archive. Darkness swallowed history. That book also dissolved. Another. Thomas returned. The First Keeper disappeared. Again... Dust.

“Come on. Follow me.” He heads toward the records hall, and I follow. Inside, the air is cool and old. Dust and ink cling to the stone walls… stone that remembers secrets. He stops at a locked shelf and pulls out a massive book. The leather is cracked with age, gold symbols burned deep into the cover. “The Pack Offense Record,” he says. “Ancient. Permanent.” My fingers itch to touch it. “Every crime,” he continues, “every betrayal, every punishment is written here. Once a name is inked, it can never be erased.”

He pushed the door open and stepped inside and Caitlin looked at either sides of her before also stepping inside. The moment she was in, the lights turned on and she paused to look around the place. There are papers everywhere, mostly of torn pages and drawings, ancient ones, of what had happened, and what seems like is about to happen from what she had read from the sacred book. “Welcome to my uhm…abode. Well, I would not want to call it that because of…”

Waltz asked softly. “Resentful spirits!” Susan exclaimed. Waltz’s grip around Alex’s hand tightened even further. Darven Mikail was also nearby. “What do you mean? Could there be coffins or corpses under the shipboard?” “Not under the shipboard. They’re under the boat!” Susan said softly. Darven shuddered, and his eyes widened. “Does this mean that the movement of this coffin boat is the doing of those things?” he asked. Susan nodded.

Apart from the gifts I had given her in the past, I found nothing that belonged to me. When she was taken away by the coroners, the only thing she had on was a thin nightgown. There was no way she had been carrying anything else on her. The same ominous question came back to me—Was it truly her in the first place? All the recent deaths were too much for me to handle. I propped my hands against Sybille’s desk and felt a metallic scent fill my mouth before throwing up a mouthful of blood. My blood splattered against the cover of a book. It was a copy of “The Book of the Dead” I had lent her.

When we returned to the cemetery, it felt as if an invisible hand had closed around my heart. I was only a spirit, yet I still felt like I was suffocating, my skin breaking into a cold sweat as my spirit began to flicker. Being buried alive had to be the absolute worst form of torture. The plot was a total disaster area, my casket having been violently pried open. The inside was covered in human waste, but even that couldn't hide the countless scratches covering the wooden walls.