Iron Gates Book Novels & Stories

“He's thinking about the men, Calla. Lucien, you and Calla plan to scale the vertical slope. But what about the rest of the pack? What about Fenric and the men that will be waiting to infiltrate the Ironwood? How do you intend to open the gate for them once you are inside?” The question hit me like a physical blow. I felt the air leave my lungs. I looked back at the window, the silence in the room becoming more suffocating. I hadn't thought that far. My mind had been so consumed with the image of Willow in that garden and the western slope that I had neglected the role play of the actual siege. How would we open the gate? The Ironwood gates were massive slabs of iron-reinforced oak, held shu

Vren’s voice carried to me. I looked up grudgingly as the cut on my head sealed up and the pain subsided. “First lesson of the Fae. Iron is deadly to us and our magic.” Vren chuckled and stood in front of my cell. “This. “ he gestured to the cell bars. “Is made up of iron and silver,” I blinked at Vren, not quite understanding. He was Vren but he was not. He looked…more. His skin, is smooth with no mar. His hair was more luscious than it had appeared and even his jaw.

They seemed to have changed clothes into something more proper, and they wore serious expressions as they waited for us. This door was…different from the others. Rather than wood or carved stone, it seemed to be made of iron, with thick, heavy bolds and a dense lock clasped over it like a prison gate. My stomach twisted into a hard knot. I thought back to the old stories the aunts used to tell us. Tales of breeders, locked in caves. How they were used and discarded by heartless dragons. Of course, those were just stories—but looking at this door, I couldn’t help but wonder.

Just the reminder alone made me want so much more. I slammed the book shut. One journal, bound in white leather, caught my eye. I opened it. A passage about fae glamour. "Iron is the only counter-charm. Pure iron, pressed to the skin. Glamour cannot survive contact with unalloyed iron. The fae may appear beautiful, but iron reveals the truth." I closed the journal. Iron. That should be able to protect me from Vivienne if she tries any rubbish. I knew where to find some.

I stood before the central iron bookshelf, the soft white dusting cloth held loosely in my fingers. The room was illuminated only by the pale, silver moonlight cutting through the frost-covered glass windows. I reached out my hand and touched a thick, leather-bound volume of old historical texts. It was a book detailing the ancient royal boundaries of the high-ranking packs. I gripped the heavy spine and slowly pulled it out, intending to shift it a few inches out of alignment, just like I had done the night before. "Click.” The sound of the heavy steel gate at the penthouse entrance echoed through the vast living room.

But he was too late. As Vorlag reached the gates, they did not swing open. They dissolved. The massive iron bars, reinforced with ancient magic and Varek steel, did not bend or break. They turned to dust, a silent, effortless corrosion that was a testament to the entity's absolute power. The robed figure flowed through the opening like smoke, a grey shadow against the black night, with its new prize in tow.

The pulse shifts, changing its frequency, turning colder, sharper, smelling of iron and ancient shields. "House of Voron," I say, stepping directly into Diana’s space, my amethyst eyes locking onto her pale face as the silver smoke around me begins to swirl, driven away by the sudden, intense heat radiating from my skin. "Keepers of the Iron Oath. You claim the northern gate, yet your ancestors bought their freedom with three thousand cattle and a broken spear at the River of Bones. Your blood is not clear, Diana. It is borrowed." Diana stumbles back a half-step, her breath hitching, her pristine green tunic trembling. "You... you couldn't know that. That isn't in the public scrolls."

How the hell am I supposed to get out of here? For some reason, I just realized that my wrists are also bound behind my back, and then chained to my ankles so that I cannot move at all. How did they even get me up here? I wonder. I must be at least four feet above the floor. I wiggle around and try to break or move some of my restraints, but it is useless. I yell out in frustration when I realize what the metal chains are made of. Cold Iron. “Welp, the old bastard probably knew my weakness,” Iris said as she started to sway..Cold Iron is specifically designed to restrain moon wolves as we are immune to silver. The metal is freezing and I can feel my body heat sapping away, along with my ene

The light here was different—filtered, muted, like moving through water. Then the path ended, and I saw it. The old gate. Iron bars, rusted at the joints, rising to a pointed arch. Beyond it, the grounds sloped downward toward a stone wall and, past that, the road. The gate itself was wrapped in a heavy chain, but beside it, set into a wooden post, was a digital access panel. Small. Unobtrusive. A red light blinked in the corner, steady as a heartbeat. I touched the iron. Cold. Rough beneath my fingers.

one of the guards barked. Jayden handed over a sleek, black card. The guard inspected it, nodded once, and stepped aside. “Welcome to Ironcrest!” As the gates opened, Jess and Jayden both leaned forward at the same time. “Holy shit,” Jayden whispered. Jess covered her mouth. “Oh my God… this place is… huge.” Ironcrest stretched out like a city. Houses, training grounds, towers, lights everywhere. People moved around, their presence strong and organized. Power was in the air—thick, heavy, undeniable.