My Quiet Blacksmith Novels & Stories

I question. “You’re upset about something,” he suggests gently. “My mother is really sick, and everyone’s saying she won’t live much longer, I’m scared because I don’t want to be alone. But your story did help me to not feel so bad,” I say with a small smile. “I’m sorry,” he says. “You never told me your name,” I say carefully. “My name is Neron Black. I’m a blacksmith who works in the city. What’s your name, little man?” He asks, bending down to my level.

He flipped the light bar off, plunging us back into the grey dimness of the storm. "You're getting good at that," he said, his breathing finally beginning to level out. "At what?" "At the 'Dirty' work," Enzo said. I looked down at the Red Ledger. My knuckles were white where I gripped the leather. I wasn't the "Boring" girl who worked for a tech startup anymore. I was the woman who had just blinded a man so her husband could ram a truck. "It says here... 'The Quiet,'" I read, squinting at the page as a neon sign from a passing liquor store illuminated the text. "What is 'The Quiet'?"

I barked, waving my hand dismissively toward the heavy iron doors. They did not say another word, filing out of the room in hurried silence. Once the heavy oak doors clicked shut, I stood up and walked down the spiraling stone stairs into the dark, sweltering heat of the castle's underground armory. The sharp, bitter scent of molten metal, coal dust, and hot ash filled my lungs as the master blacksmith looked up from his glowing anvil, setting his heavy iron hammer aside. "Alpha," the master blacksmith greeted respectfully, wiping thick black soot and sweat from his forehead with a rag. "What do you require from the forge today?"

And so, my heart beat on, slowly and faintly. - One day, an unwelcome guest came to our little sanctuary. Roanna knelt beside my legs, sobbing and pleading, "Miss Palmer, please… Please tell Scott to talk to me again! I really love him, and I can't live without him!" Mary burst out from the kitchen, waving a kitchen knife. "You shameless b*tch! How dare you show your face?" Roanna raised her chin in defiance, shouted, "Kill me then! I can't live without Scott, so kill me!"

“Is she always like this?” Kieran didn’t even glance back. “She can’t talk.” Silence. Tobias blinked, the weight of Kieran’s words settling in. “Oh,” he muttered, shifting in his seat. “Well, that explains it.” I looked out the window, staring at the cold landscape blurring past and grateful for the silence. We arrived at Blackwood Pack later that evening. The towering gates groaned as they opened, revealing dark stone buildings nestled under an overcast sky. Wolves stood in clusters; their gazes sharp, unkind. Some whispered, others didn’t bother lowering their voices.

He didn’t seem to notice. “I got up before the sun and was at work well after it got dark. Then I had to walk home. I was lucky to get a single break after arriving at the shop. The master blacksmith training me, Henrik, was well sought after. Our shop flourished, but we had more work than he could keep up with. It also meant my work was never-ending.” “But you learned a lot, right?” Blake scoffed. “Well, you got big and strong.” She teased, squeezing his arm muscles.

She pulled away, "Can you please beg him to eat something? It's fine if he won't talk to me but starving himself..." Sighing, he hugged again, "That's enough worrying. I'll talk to him, okay." He didn't see the big sly grin playing on the lips of the girl in his arms. Things were going just perfect for her. She opened her palm, hidden from his view, revealing two pills which she quickly threw into her mouth, and began to count. Less than ten minutes later, its effect began to kick in. Her head grew dizzy and she blacked out. "This is Grandfather Armstrong and this is great grandfather Wen. This is grandmother Nicole and this is Aunty Sally."

I’d been through seven foster homes. Before each one sent me away, they stopped answering my questions, stopped looking at me, and let the house grow silent. I couldn’t stand that kind of silence. So I became someone who talked too much. When my biological mother finally brought me into the powerful Moretti family at seventeen, I tried even harder to make people like me. Within one day, I knew the guards’ birthdays, the school nurse’s favorite podcast, and where my classmates kept their emergency medication. My stepsister Bianca called it manipulation. My stepbrother Luca called it an addiction to attention. To cure me, he ordered my entire school and family not to speak to me for seventy-tw

I asked him and he smiled. "Kuhan? I don't know what Kuhan is but you were brought here by a lady last night, you were unconscious, she told me you needed somewhere to sleep." The blacksmith replied. "A lady? Do you know her?" I asked and the blacksmith nodded negatively. "I don't, she wore a hood on her head and I couldn't see her, but she told me that you both are friends" The Blacksmith replied. https://writersnaija.com.ng/twist-of-fate-son-of-the-soil-book-2-episode-2/

It should be illegal to look this nerve wrecking. The first three buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a patch of clear slightly tanned skin. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows, showing off the prominent veins that ran up his back hand. I felt the breath hitch in my wind pipes as our eyes met, his mesmerizing green stare made my cheeks flush and my knees go weak, it was like I was paralyzed as I stood there while his eyes still roamed me. "I don't think I've introduced myself. Damon Blackwood" his husky voice made my heart rate pick up. A smirk crawled unto his features as he stretched out a hand for me and I just stared in awe, his words sinking in.