Steins Gate Novels & Stories

The air grows colder with every step I take, the faint scent of damp stone and rot rising from the depths. Adriel and our father are already waiting at the iron gate. Love and her daughter, Audrey’s mother, stand just behind them, their faces grim. Father slides a heavy iron key into the lock. The tumblers turn with a loud, echoing clink. The gate swings open, whining on rusted hinges. We walk down the steep stone steps. Two guards stand at the bottom, their spears crossed. They straighten up the moment they see Father. "We are here for the prisoner," I tell them.

She stood strong watching the heavy iron gates of the facility swing open. There were ten haulers in a single line. They idled quietly. Their shiny grills looked like silver teeth under the sky. This was the gate. It was the route into Canada. The Sterling group had tried to block it for two years. They used port injunctions and fake environmental fines.

Already off balance from the earlier exchange, he stumbled backward and fell. Supervivente took advantage of the distraction caused by Luz’s team and moved to stand before the massive wooden gate, its weathered planks bound by thick iron bands blackened with age. The door towered above him, easily three times his height, a barrier built to withstand siege engines and battering rams. For a moment, the battlefield around him seemed distant. The sounds of clashing steel and shouted orders faded as he stepped forward. His worn clothes stirred in the wind as he pressed his palms against the gate. Nothing happened at first. Then a faint flow appeared beneath his fingers. Lines of pale blue light s

The armored SUV didn't slow down for the perimeter checkpoint. Silas’s driver slammed the reinforced grill of the truck directly through our own iron gates, tearing the metal off its hinges. The Steele Estate was a graveyard. No , really, it felt like one. Dozens of elite Lycan guards—guys I had watched that morning laughing and running drills—lay sprawled across the snow covered lawn.

The gates were stone. Not decorative stone; load-bearing, defensive, the kind cut from a mountain rather than shaped for aesthetics. They opened inward without visible mechanism as the car approached, which meant someone had been watching the road long before the headlights reached them. Kaela noted that. Filed it.

We reach the gates of Black Pit — tall, wrought iron, flanked by security cameras and bristling hedges. Miguel keys in the code and speaks to the guard. The gates open.

Massive waves crashed against jagged rocks below while storm clouds churned overhead. Lightning illuminated the horizon. Not white lightning. Silver. The same silver that lived inside the gates. The same silver that flowed through my blood. A city stood beneath the cliff. Ancient. Enormous. Half submerged beneath the sea. Its towers rose from the water like the bones of something long dead. And at the center stood another gate. The Third Gate. Larger than Blackthorn's. Larger than the desert gate. Its surface glowed beneath the storm while hundreds of figures moved around it.

No movement in the grass. The only noises broke from their own progression and the quiet melody of flame, seed, and the inward movement of the path. At midday, they came to something they had not seen before. A gate. No walls surrounded it as it lifted from the ash. It was simply a broad stone arch, reaching up as high as a tree, with the same spirals as the one on Renak’s stone. “This is it,” Arden said. “The Gates of Ash.” Lucian walked up and reached into his pouch for the spiral stone. The stone’s light grew soft in his hand, while it started to make a low, steady sound. The gate pulsed in answer.

Diana At the northern border of the Zervos pack stands a towering black wrought-iron gate, its intricate design serving as both a deterrent and a symbol of authority. This entrance functions as the official entrance into the territory, the only way permitted for guests to enter. My car rolls to a smooth stop in front of it, the engine purring beneath my fingers- a stark contrast to the tense anticipation thrumming beneath my skin.

But as soon as they smelt the air and caught of whiff of different scents, they all looked up and saw me walking in front. “Okay let’s start with the gate shall we, there are many regulations that come with housing the hounds and the security which needs to be in place to keep everyone safe. This gate is not a standard one that we would use in our daily life, it’s made out of solid steel and a mixture of tungsten. It’s built to withstand the sheer weight and power of the hounds. Alban, kick this gate as hard as you can.” I began to explain pointing over to the huge metal gate which stood in the centre of the hounds and I, when I took the roll of looking after these animals five years ago, I