Oblivion Standing Stones Novels & Stories

No, frightened. He turned around, trying to retrace their steps. He had just one plan and it wasn't to run. It was to find the dismal cave he'd come across when he'd gone looking for Artin. Another howl erupted out of nowhere then a couple of hoofs pounding into the soil were heard from a distance. Then Sir. Oswic saw three pieces of stones he'd subconsciously noticed before - white, gleaming, smooth and very round stones, not polluted by smears of blood or anything, one on top of the other.

Helena’s body seemed to vibrate at a new frequency, a sharpened sensitivity that made her notice details previously invisible: the pattern of veins in the leaves, the exact direction of the wind, and, above all, the silent call of the stones. A few kilometers from her property, where the woods became so dense that the light barely touched the moss, Helena came upon a rock formation that seemed to have been carved by gigantic hands. They were natural monoliths arranged in an irregular semicircle, covered with grayish lichens. As she approached, she realized the rocks were not smooth. Deeply engraved in the raw stone were symbols that defied time—intertwined spirals, stylized lupine figures, a

She rose up instead, crossed to a shelf crowded with jars and bundled herbs, and pulled down a strip of faded cloth, unrolling it carefully across her knees once she'd sat back down. An old, water-stained drawing showing an unmistakable image of standing stones arranged in a familiar circle. I could not help myself as I said, "I've seen that circle before, two actually. One near the Lycan palace and the other on Fabian D'Oman's land." "Two," Maren repeated softly, more to herself than to me. "There are more than two, girl. There were seven once, scattered across every territory that ever mattered to the old order. Most have gone dormant. Forgotten." Her clouded eyes lifted to mine.

The circle felt older than the stronghold. Older than Blackthorn. Older than the stone in the mountains themselves. It sat a short walk beyond the outer walls, carved into a flat shoulder of rock that jutted out over a dark drop. Twelve standing stones ringed it, each the height of a tall wolf, their surfaces worn smooth by wind and rain, veins of silver lichen tracing their faces like old scars. Tonight, the Moon washed them in cold light—soaking into stone, into air, into me.

Just water and mist and the suggestion of infinity. And there, on the edge of a cliff, stood the ruins. They were smaller than I'd imagined. Not a grand temple. Just a circle of standing stones, black with age, arranged in a pattern that hurt my eyes if I looked at it too long. The stones leaned inward, like old women sharing a secret. Kael stopped the car at the base of the cliff. The engine died. The silence rushed in. It was not a comfortable silence.

Commands it. It is not ancient in the quiet, forgotten way most things are. It is ancient in the way of things that have been used again and again. The stone rises above them all, easily ten feet high, shaped like a tall, leaning obelisk. Symbols wind across its surface. Some eroded with age, others still sharp as a scream. A few glow faintly, pulsing in pale gold and sickly green. As if something unnatural brushed past long ago, and the stone never healed.

“So, is everything ready for tonight?” Magenta nodded. “I just came from the Standing Stones, and everything’s set.” Each Pack had its own Standing Stones, the most sacred place in every Pack since the existence of shifters. The Standing Stones at Stonehenge were probably part of an ancient Pack, now long gone. “Good.” I tilted my head to the side. “Thank you, Magenta.” “For what?” I shrugged. “For everything.” “Okay, everyone!” Asana announced when everyone was nearly finished. “Let’s get this show on the road! Remember: we have to have enough time to ourselves ready, too.”

There was no better place Rynd could have picked. The Callanish Stones had been around for thousands of years, and were an ancient power spot for vampires. Laid out in a crude circle, they looked like the stones of Stonehenge, except these stones were more narrow, haphazard. They sat atop a dramatic knoll, on a remote island, overlooking cliffs and a vast ocean. They were eerie, and exuded a mystical power.

"Come on. Let's go." "Not just yet." Bailey placed her hand on my arm, stopping me. "I want to show you something first." "Oh-kay," I said, dragging out the word. The short time I'd known Bailey, I'd just learned to go with it and to trust her. We headed around the corner of the Compound, and there they were, the Standing Stones. Beige stones sparkled majestically in the early morning sunlight, almost pink on the far side of the Compound away from prying eyes. There were seven huge stones on cobblestones placed in a circular pattern with a white wolf in the center.

I continued. In a blink of an eye, Sunny put her ID card near the wall. We wait impatiently in the lift. My heart thumped out of my chest. My ears ringing in anticipation. The others don't look much different. I could hear their harsh breath, their feet tapping on the floor, and click-clack of their weapons being checked the ammunitions multiple times. A ting informed us that the lift had finally reached the base. My heart dropped. There is nothing left. The floor is covered in bodies laying on top of one another.