Iron Gates Book Novels & Stories

“What is it, Uncle Arav?” Jaravles bend down to collect the powdered rust spread on the floor from the iron door and showed the rust powder to Dev, “Do you know about this?” “No way,” Dev exclaimed his shock and shared his eyes with Ivan. “This iron door can’t be rusted. It is heavily sealed with powerful sorcery. This implies only one thing...” “What is it Dev?” Ivan asked him. “Iron can’t be destroyed but its rusting can, so the forbidden object inside this chamber has been trying all means to rust this iron door for all these centuries, so it can be set free from iron bars,” Dev explained.

I asked, hoping to change the subject. “No, that place is a fortress,” Ben grumbled. “I mean, seriously, who has an entire hedge of wolfsbane surrounding their house. The front gate has camera’s, motion sensors, and who knows what else, and the only path in from the rear has a large, armored door keeping everyone out. And from the scents I was smelling back there, I would say that Roland still takes more than a few runs.”

“Alpha Killen, I wouldn’t have brought her here if it wasn’t necessary.” Alpha Killen’s gaze returned to me, cold and unyielding. “You stay because Damon asked. That is the only reason. Do not mistake it for welcome.” My throat tightened, and I nodded silently, though my heart twisted with the weight of his disdain. Safe didn’t feel safe anymore. It felt conditional, fragile, borrowed. The warriors escorted us deeper into IronMist territory. Unlike BlackThorn, where grandeur lined every hall, IronMist was harsher, practical, built from dark stone, banners of deep silver hanging solemnly, and soldiers who looked as if they had seen more blood than peace.

“But only one leads to freedom.” Lyra stared at the doors, heart racing. The gold door shimmered with warmth, whispering promises of comfort and acceptance. The iron door thrummed with the weight of discipline and control. And the bone door oozed dread, pulsing with ancient pain. She approached the iron door, hand trembling. And chose. — The iron door exploded open with a thunderous groan. She stepped into a vast battlefield—frozen in time. Thousands of wolves stood mid-leap, mid-snarl, mid-death. The sky was torn in two, half day, half night. Lightning streaked upward instead of down.

“Just observe. Let it show you what it wants to do.” The warmth spread up my arms. I felt the power stir, curious. It wanted to be used. It wanted to be released. But it didn’t push. It waited for my permission. I gave it. Silver light flickered across my skin, a soft glow that made the stone in my hand shine as if it had captured moonlight. “Open your eyes,” Kade said. I did. The stone was glowing from within. Silver light pulsed in time with my heartbeat. The power felt different this time. Controlled. Intentional.

I am nearly at the back of the book when I look up at Elijah and say, "Silver and Iron..." He looks at me with puzzlement, so I read the small caption "Fairys are easy to kill once you get around their magical defences. Silver is one natural element that will help in lowering their defences. The use of silver on its own will hurt a fairy, but depending on the fairy, it will not stop them. Iron is another natural element that will help you get around their magical defences, but iron is used more for its ability to control them, as it has a binding effect. However, when combined a fairy becomes extremely weak as the combination of both elements makes a fairy's magic almost void, allowing one t

The other Elders were huddled in the shadows, praying to a Moon that wasn't listening to them anymore. I turned toward the heavy iron gate that led back to the courtyard. I could still hear Killian’s roars, fainter now, but still there. He was still fighting. I walked to the gate. I didn't look for a key. I didn't look for a lever. I placed my glowing palms against the iron. The runes etched into the metal screamed in protest, sparks of blue fire dancing around my fingers. I pushed. The metal didn't just break. It melted. The iron turned to liquid slag, flowing away from my touch until there was nothing left but an open archway.

I finally reached the very back corner of the sprawling underground facility, and the normal metal bookshelves ended right in front of a solid brick wall. A massive, heavy iron door sat hidden in the dark shadows of the corner, and the imposing structure looked totally out of place inside a standard college library. I stepped closer to inspect the intimidating entrance, and a thick layer of gray dust covered the rough metal surface to prove nobody visited this room very often. Thick steel chains wrapped tightly around the heavy iron handles, and three large brass padlocks secured the heavy links together to prevent anyone from pulling the door open. My shoulders slumped in deep disappointmen

It left behind only the standard, industrial violet haze of an Oakhaven morning, though the air felt strangely light, stripped of the heavy alchemical static that had choked the province for a generation. The streets were dead quiet now. The third cohort of the Iron Division stood guard at the shattered remnants of the southern gatehouse, their massive silver shields lined with the red mud and grey soot of the defensive ditch. The terrifying swarm of failed constructs had dissolved into completely inert, brittle heaps of grey slag the moment the portal’s frequency was cut off from below. They looked like nothing more than strange volcanic outcroppings littering the cobblestones.

Choosing, very deliberately, to give me nothing. Fine. Two could play at cold. * * * Ironmoor was not what the stories said. The stories — passed between the scattered remnants of witch bloodlines, traded in whispers at border crossings and underground safe houses — described it as grim. A fortress pack. Stone walls and iron gates and wolves who didn't smile. The kind of place that crushed anything soft that came inside it. The reality was worse, because it was beautiful.