Rwby Ironwood の小説・ストーリー

Together, Blackfang and Eyrix pushed Ironclaw back inch by bloody inch. When the last assassin fell, the night rang with heavy breathing and the metallic stink of blood. Bodies littered the ground, Ironclaw black and Blackfang crimson indistinguishable in torchlight. Eyrix swayed, the fire inside him dimming, exhaustion crashing in its wake. Ryder caught him before he fell. “I told you,” Ryder murmured, forehead resting briefly against Eyrix’s. “You don’t get to disappear.” Eyrix closed his eyes, leaning into the grip he had sworn he didn’t want, hating how safe it felt, and knowing that Ironclaw had awakened something that would never sleep again.

I wouldn't let him tarnish the one thing I had left. He pulled me back, his grip firm. "I was observing, not insulting. Why so defensive, Ivy?" I didn't answer. I just kept filing. Cole, realizing that his presence wasn't enough to buy my attention tonight, reached into his mental arsenal. "I have a surplus of Black Rosewood in the Ryder vaults. I could have it brought here." My hand faltered. Rosewood. It was a legendary timber—dense, dark as a moonless night, and nearly impossible to find. My eyes lit up before I could catch myself.

Zayne didn’t waste the opening, he lunged, his powerful jaws closing on Garrick’s forearm. Garrick yelled, a raw sound of agony, and fell to his knees. Zayne released him, standing over the bleeding man. Garrick clutched his mangled arm, his face white with pain. “You’re dead.” he spat, looking at me. “Both of you, Ironwood will burn this forest to the ground to find you.” Zayne shifted, the transformation was swift, bones cracking, fur receding. In moments, my brother stood there naked and bleeding, but on his feet. He picked up Garrick’s silver knife.

As if it was just another pretty spot in the woods. Though my eyes went straight to the big cedar tree on the left side. The bark still held the heart we carved when we were young and dumb and so in love. Inside the heart our initials. S.W. + R.M. I stared at it too long and Rhydian noticed. He walked closer to the water’s edge. “Ever been here before?” he asked, sounding friendly. My throat felt dry. “No,” I said. “Never.” The second the word left my mouth my magic answered. A sharp flare of violet light sparked under my skin.

20 Years Later Raven University — Alexander’s POV The Blackwood crest loomed over the wrought-iron gates of Raven University like a sentinel carved from nightmares and myths—a massive silver wolf etched into obsidian stone, its eyes twin chips of moonstone that seemed to pierce the dawn fog, judging every soul that dared approach. Most students passed beneath it with wide-eyed awe, whispering prayers to whatever deity they favored, their footsteps quickening as if the wolf might lunge from the stone at any moment. Me? I strode under it every morning with a cocktail of irritation and reluctant pride churning in my gut.

The Silver Claw territory’s sacred grove lay hidden beyond the northern ridge, a hallowed sanctuary cradled in a frost-kissed hollow, where ancient oaks stood sentinel, their gnarled branches clawing a sky bruised with twilight’s indigo and crimson. Snow dusted the grove, blanketing the earth in a crystalline shroud, glinting like shattered stars under the waning crescent moon’s faint silver. The oaks’ bark was rough, etched with time, moss clinging in damp, emerald patches, exhaling a musky earthiness that mingled with the sharp bite of frost and the metallic tang of iron, now a constant shadow, heavy with blood’s undercurrent. Iron runes glowed faintly on the trees, carved deep, their meta

Nazir and I reach the border in the woods first. I decided it would be safer not to shift, staying in our human form for now. The border is decided by the ravine, and it's almost perfect how the set of trees doesn't grow in one line, signifying this split between the territories. According to Rheyes, going further than this is dangerous; the rogues roam these woods and communicate too well with each other. There are two big rogue packs; one is in the east, where Rheyes has done his work, and one in the west.

She handed a small, wooden stirring rod to the boy from Obsidian Peak. "Mix it until it turns the color of a bruised plum," Sienna told him, guiding his hand. "The winter-rose brings essential moisture back to the dead tissue. The pine oil allows that moisture to penetrate the barrier of the skin, and the iron-root stops the underlying muscle from contracting and forming restrictive scar tissue." The boy stirred the mixture diligently. His eyes widened with awe as the contrasting colors blended into a rich, fragrant, deeply restorative salve. "Thank you, Arbiter."

The heavy iron gates of the Blackwood estate had barely finished swinging open before Irene pressed forward onto the asphalt road. Her breathing was steady, her high ponytail swinging rhythmically against her neck as she began a brisk, determined trot. Beside her, the twins fell into step, their smaller legs moving in tandem.

Ruby POV The wasteland stretched endlessly before us, a barren expanse of cracked earth and jagged rocks, where the sky bled in perpetual twilight, neither fully day nor night. The air was thick with dust, swirling in lazy spirals as the wind whispered through the skeletal remains of trees that had long forgotten what it was to bloom. This land mirrored the emptiness inside me, both twisted by a past that could never be undone.