Sun Haven Blacksmith Novels & Stories

I was Kane Rivers, the legendary bachelor, the man who ruled with precision, who carried every responsibility without complaint. At first, I didn’t notice him. The ritual drew my attention: Mike’s posture, the priests’ chants, the rising tension of the pack, the fire snapping against the night. My wolf twitched beneath my skin.Then, through the corner of my vision, I caught movement. Just a human boy, leaning against the edge of the clearing, too casual. Shawn Miles. My nephew’s human best friend.

The Cheytac was a relic from the past. His great, great, grandfather was a sniper of the last World War; back when the entire Sandalo clan lived through the hardships and terrors in the last days of humanity's dying home world, Earth. He was one of the few millions who survived and was handpicked, together with his family, by the USEAN (Union of Southeast Asian Nations) government for relocation to Tau Ceti. The government, grateful for his service, let him keep his issued rifle, the Cheytac.

Third Person POV A black SUV comes to a sudden halt in front of an old shack. The dim light turns on inside, and an old man with a body length walking stick comes out. His eyes are white matching his head full of slivered hair, midback length. He wears an old dark gray robe and slips his flip flops on to step outside. "Blake son! Is that you?" The old wolf says. The SUV door opens and Blake makes his way out wearing combat uniform, matching with the uniforms his warriors wear.

she felt so much offended by the choice of the crowd and planning to order now But before she shouts, a man from the building showed himself, wearing black Sando, black tattered slacks and coat, wrap around his waist; wielding a head size hammer. The man spoke and with his threatening words made everyone feels suffocated. “try to pull your trigger and every one of you will die”. wearing his usual smile sarcastically. The man was their only blacksmith. The creator of their weapons! PHIL!

Black Furnace City was a magic weapon from heaven. Since Ancestor Blackstone was one of the founders of Black Furnace City, he was naturally the first batch of cultivators to search for treasures in Black Furnace City. His current status was closely linked to the treasures he had discovered in Black Furnace City. Caspian found more than ten slates in the Blackstone Pagoda. These slates seemed to have been cut off from an entire wall. The pattern on them were pieced together into a nebula.

Jet black feathers adorned him and they all shimmered gallantly under the sun, making Hanji feel lucky and proud of Rai. Patting his neck, he quickly sat on it's back, ignoring the sharp pain he felt on his pelvis. "Let's go Rai. Let's go find Grandfather's apprentice." ❇❇❇ The red ruby was flaring. It was glowing brightly in his pockets and was emitting heat that almost burnt his right hand when he attempted to touch it. It was a charm given by his magician friend that lives in the Pacific. It warns the holder from malicious intent and desires. This ruby had saved him from a couple of scammers and troubles, but it never was this coruscant before. It would only glow a bit, like a pulse of re

"Harl, give me the heaviest hammer in the Great Forge. The one your father used to break the first obsidian vein." ​Harl nodded, returning minutes later with a massive, rusted sledgehammer that smelled of sweat, oil, and ancient iron. ​I took the hammer in my silver hands. I didn't use my strength; I used the connection I had with the mountain. I felt the pulse of the survivors, the fear of the lunar exiles, and the stubbornness of the smiths. I channeled it all into a single, massive strike against the primary intake valve of the silver engine.

"Not common in the Northern Territory." "I designed it," I explained. "Three weeks ago, I commissioned it from a blacksmith in Westmoor Market." Daniel's eyebrows lifted slightly. "You designed this?" "It's a perfect match to my blueprint. Which means the blacksmith is likely connected to the Lotus Moon Cult." "A front for their operations." "Exactly. I can lead you to the shop in exchange for being allowed to track the cult members who took Sparrow and Nanny Winters." Daniel's expression hardened. "Out of the question. My men will handle the tracking."

“We’re back,” Sasha called out, returning with everyone else who had met up on the fifth floor after their material hunt. “What happened?” Zen looked like a dried sardine from behind the blacksmith’s counter. They were gone for a while, but it should not be long enough for Zen to be this worn out. What did he do? Funnily enough, the grumpy blacksmith whistled merrily as he stacked crates at the corner of the shop. “Don’t worry about him,” Ben chuckled. “He’s a spring chicken, so he’ll bounce back in no time. More importantly, do you have all the materials?”

CHAPTER 159 ~3RD PERSON'S POV~ Have you heard about the blacksmith? A man whose hammering echoes again and again in the deepest, darkest part of Mystic Meadow. His eyes were red as blood, and his face was permanently etched with anger. He is surrounded by darkness, hatred, pain, and a desire for revenge. The only light he sees every day is the light of the sparks that fly off the metal after each strike of his hammer. These sparks are the only beautiful things he owns; these sparks keep him from going insane, and these sparks remind him that one day he'll come for those who hurt him.