Ironhand Book Novels & Stories

I smiled and shook my head, feeling like myself again. Then Yael pulled out a gift box from behind him. "Check this out. Hope you like it." I did not hold back. I took it and opened it right away. Inside was the Heart of the Ocean, meant for someone truly special. "Last month, I got invited to this jewelry show, and the host just handed this to me. I thought it was perfect for you. Ha! I've been waiting for the right moment to give it to you. If you don't like it, you can just... you know..."

His claws were half-drawn, catching the firelight like shards of gold. He lunged. “Again,” he growled, the word barely human. Instinct surged. Selene gasped and lifted her hands. A blast of fire and frost erupted outward in a violent burst — gold and silver striking Rowan square in the chest. The impact sent him skidding back across the moss, his boots carving deep grooves in the floor. Smoke rose from his skin, curling into the air. And Rowan laughed. A wild, proud, feral sound that shook her more than any roar.

She hurried to run, but he grabbed her by the collar and slammed her to the ground. He clenched his fist and struck her face violently. Her cheeks swelled instantly, her lips bruised purple, and blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. She froze for a moment, dazed, then scrambled to snatch her phone off the floor. Jack’s reflexes were faster; he pinned her hand and hurled the phone out the nearby window. Alanna struggled, but he lashed out again, hitting her head as if venting rage. Time passed, though she could no longer measure it.

Then she heard footsteps. Ashley gasped and sped up. The footsteps behind her did the same, closing the gap. Before she could turn, a hand clamped over her mouth. She thrashed, panic slamming through her chest. Another hand yanked her arm back, twisting it tight. The harsh smell of smoke filled her nose as a rough voice growled in her ear. “Got you, bitch.” Iron Fangs. Her heart pounded hard. She tried to scream, but his hand silenced the sound against her mouth. He shoved her deeper into the alley, where another figure stepped out to block the way. Two men. Maybe more.

Garrett The clearing is exactly as I remembered from my scouting trip yesterday. Secluded, peaceful, with a small stream running along one edge. I've set up blankets, cushions, and most importantly—a stack of books. Iris stops when she sees it, hand flying to her mouth. "You did all this?" Her voice is soft with wonder. "I wanted it to be special." I guide her to the blankets. "And I found something I thought you'd like." I hand her the top book. It's old, leather-bound, with gilt lettering. "Advanced Theories in Shield Construction and Consciousness-Based Magical Architecture."

The figure stepped into the full light, and the flames of the torches bent subtly toward it as though drawn by a force older than wind or breath, its eyes a deep, unbroken shade of silver that reflected every face in the room, including Fenric’s, with unnerving clarity. It wore no armor, no mark of rank or allegiance, yet the weight of its presence was so complete that even the Bonebinder, who had faced the fire without flinching, shifted one step back, his gauntleted hand curling into a fist.

The moment my hands touched it, warmth spread through me, strange and electric. The shadows recoiled, as if my touch burned them. The figure hissed, stepping back, claws forming out of the darkness. I didn’t understand what was happening, but I felt power surge from the book into me. The words on the cover shimmered faintly, glowing like they recognized me. Fenrir moved closer. “Whatever you’re going to do—now is the time.” I took a deep breath. The shadows lunged again. This time, I didn’t flinch.

“They were out too far…for a reason. “Rodin says. Slowly, Rodin lifts his fingertips from the puddle. The blood drips back into the pool. The blood is thick almost like sludge and smells like rotten meat when it's cooked. Rodin flings the blood on the teal grass which cleans the shine on his armor. Rodin stands and he starts to walk to the tent with the flag. Varick looks over the pile. On his side is a satchel, he reaches in this compartment to pull out a book. The book’s title: “Book of The Blight.” Carefully, he sets his wolf helm down on a clean spot among the forest. The plate head sparks with pink electricity, causing the headpiece to slightly hover along with the grassy blade tips. Va

Dead center sat the target: Tobias Irons. He was perched in between a bunch of girls and guys, all enraptured by his brunette, tall, and muscled presence as he loudly weaved a tale of his adventures in the bedroom. Hoots and hollers rang out as he made crude gestures with his hands, gaining even more attention from the surrounding partygoers. The boy tucked his hands inside the pockets of his jeans to hide the blood that seeped down his knuckles because of his tightly clenched fists.

The tugging sensation begins again, growing more and more intense as I continue to hold on, as the feeling intensifies I close my eyes and let it take me where it will. Splat! I make the mistake of gasping for breath and the taste of both mud and excrement fill my mouth. Spitting, I stand up noticing in the journey that I have dropped the pendant. Taking a look around, I wonder if this is where the heir has been hidden all this time. Reaching down I pick up the pendant and wipe it off on my cloak. I barely have time to do this before the sensation of tugging once more overwhelms me and the world blurs away. *************************************************************************************