Karkat Horns Novels & Stories

Whoever this was wanted me to look at my own mate and wonder if he had written those words and that thought made me feel sick. Before Kael could say anything to the pack, a different horn sounded across the territory and it was not a war horn but the birth horn that was only ever blown when a Luna went into labor. Except I was the only Luna and I was standing right here feeling the heir kick steadily, but not ready to come yet. The horn blew again, longer and more desperate and Thorne came running with panic on his face and told us the sound was coming from our own den at the center of the compound.

I take in a deep breath and knock on the door twice. The door swings open in one swift movement to reveal Karken standing on the other side. Karken is practically naked standing in front of him and when I see him, my breath hitches in my throat. His entire upper body is completely exposed, revealing his bulging muscles, carved and ridged to perfection with beads of sweat rolling over them. His pelvic area is covered by a small piece of clothing which seems to be nothing more than an obligatory piece because it does a poor job of covering him up. Underneath it, I can see the heads of his cock glistening and their shafts threatening to rip the cloth to shreds. Behind him, his tail is swinging

Fern The horns at Blackmoor’s gate sound different from the war horns. They are shorter this time. Like they are uncertain. It isn’t an alarm, but it isn’t welcome either. It is somewhere in between. I look up from the reports scattered across the Luna office desk. Mara is halfway through telling me about supply shortages when the horn sounds again. Three short blasts, then silence. “That’s not a patrol return,” Mara says quietly. “No,” I agree.

The face staring back at him didn't look at all familiar. His face didn't seem particularly reptilian, looking more like a cross between a wolf and a large cat, but with steel gray scales covering everything. His nostrils were slits and his ears where smaller, but otherwise he didn't look much like any reptile he'd seen. Growing out of the back of his head were two six-inch horns that gently spiraled like an African antelope -- a kudu -- only straighter.

I took the horn and examined it. It looked impressive, but I spotted the flaw instantly. "This dragon crystal," I said calmly, "is a fake." Damian's face went white. "What?" "It's a glass replica." I tapped the crystal. It made a sharp, clear ping. "A real dragon crystal makes a dull thud. And..." I flipped the horn over, pointing to the runes at its base. "This isn't a summoning rune. It's a backlash curse, designed to kill whoever blows the horn."

exclaimed Reymond from behind the shield, the man with black hair with a blue gradient that night was holding back so that the shield he made did not break, because the rhino horn was caught in the stone shield that Reymond made. When Leonard's attack hit his eye, the one-horned rhinoceros started to revolt about to take off his horn. Both learn that the one-horned rhino they are fighting is dying. Leonard immediately attacked the rhino's heart with one horn in one shot. The roar of a dying rhino filled the surrounding area. The sound of the White Tiger and the sound of the One-Horned Rhino that had met its end collided into one, leaving the two handsome young men unaware of a sound more ter

But it was his eyes—those pitch-black orbs—that held my gaze. They were endless, deep and fathomless, as though no light could ever escape from them. They seemed to pierce through the very fabric of reality, holding within them centuries of knowledge, cruelty, and an insatiable hunger. Atop his head, two horns curved back from his temples, dark and jagged like twisted obsidian. They were sharp and elegant, a stark contrast to the softness of his features. These horns added an undeniable air of danger to his beauty—reminding anyone who looked at him that he was no mere mortal, but something far older, far more powerful.

Both are things worth fighting for, neither of them canceling the other. A sound breaks the quiet, distant. From the direction of the northern tree line. We both hear it at the same moment. Not a howl, not a wolf sound at all, but a horn. Low and carrying. The kind used for formal pack announcements in the old tradition. Rarely used now. Only ever in two situations: a death or a challenge. Kael's entire body changes. The softness of the corridor disappears. Alpha snapping into place like armor closing. His hand releases mine, and he moves to the window in one step, pressing close to the glass. "That's coming from Deveraux's camp," he says.

A low, velvet chuckle slithered into my ears, raising goosebumps. My eyes snapped open. He was there. Not exploding from the floor in flames or smoke. No dramatic bullshit. Just… there. Lounging in the threadbare armchair across from me like he’d been chilling for hours, watching my meltdown with amusement. Tall—freakishly tall, even sitting—his legs stretched out casually. A black suit tailored from pure midnight, hugging a frame that screamed power and sin. Skin like polished obsidian, smooth and gleaming under the dim lamp light. Dark, silken hair framed a face that was too perfect, too sharp—high cheekbones, full lips curved in a smirk. Eyes glowing like embers in a dying fire, red and p

Luckily they are all rank 2. Corpses kept on accumulating on the path he was treading on and red blood kept on flowing on the river at the center of the valley. At some point, an imponent figure appeared in front of her. Its body was eighteen meters long and four meters thick, it had three horns on its head and from its fangs was dripping a violet dense liquid. 'Rank 3 Horned snake!' Behind it, a handful of rank 2 horned snakes were coiled together looking in her direction.