Sun Haven Blacksmith Novels & Stories

The blacksmith stall smelled like smoke and iron. I loved it immediately. Heavy tables were covered with tools, horseshoes, nails, and rough chunks of raw ore that glinted under the hanging lanterns. A few finished blades sat further down the display, their polished surfaces reflecting the warm festival lights. Bjorn wasn’t there tonight. Instead, a broad older shifter worked the stall, carefully weighing small chunks of ore for another customer. I hovered near the end of the table, studying the raw metals laid out on a cloth.

Sun Keeper

She was raised in the shadows. He rules the world from the light. But her secret could burn the entire kingdom to the ground. For eighteen years, Nadia Hayes lived like a phantom. Hidden deep inside a secluded cave by her grandmother, she survived on river fish, harsh training, and silent longing. As the last living survivor of the forbidden Blackblood lineage, her existence is a death sentence. Her only crime is the blood in her veins—and her only desire is to know what it feels like to belong. Then, one desperate mistake exposes her secret to the realm. Hunted across enemy territory, Nadia flees to the remnant of her ancestral people, praying for sanctuary. Instead, she finds a clan

I was shoved inside a building by one of the guards. It was the blacksmith's dwelling place. The blacksmith forged and repaired weapons for the pack's warriors, ensuring they were well-equipped for battle. It wasn't just for the warriors alone. The hunters, gatherers, and even craftsmen were included. I had been here on several occasions, running errands. But each time, the heat from the furnace was hotter than the last. "She's here," one of the guards with me said to the head blacksmith, Benjamin Robinson. A man in his early forties, maybe with balding hair and wrinkles at both sides of his eyes.

Mira got out of the Jeep along with Griffin. “Miss Red, it was good to see you again,” The older man greeted her. To the others, he was just an old man working with the outlaws. To those who knew him, he was a well-known businessman. They called him ‘The Blacksmith’. Nobody knew his real background or real name. He designed, created, and supplied weapons—guns, bow and arrow, swords and anything that made it into a killing tool. He did this for the right price. Nobody did a free job anymore because everything was a business.

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.

“Our local blacksmith is a very mysterious Slayer, full of surprises, but a good fellow. He isn’t from around here but everybody adores him just the same. Oh, and have I mentioned he’s blind?” “Blind?!” Temujin and Aki echoed. “Oh yes, that’s right. Completely, I’m afraid. I wouldn’t challenge him to a spar though on account of that, for he can put any able-bodied Slayer to shame. Also, he very much prefers a simple and private life.” “Oh, I’ve heard of this blacksmith,” Sasha jumped in. “He’s the one who makes most of the blue Slayer suits by cooking the tree-drops in a stove. Somehow he knows how to combine fire and wind techniques.”

Just Ray stops laughing, wipes the red honey off his lips with his shirt, and moves around the metallic cave, trying to find something. “I’m not taking you—” “Why not!?” “I am not getting killed,” Just Ray shouted. “Just Ray, do not fret. No one will kill you,” I promised. “We will keep you alive forever, your honey is wonderful!” He eyed me suspiciously and moved piles of his treasures to the side, useless things until he found a life-saver. It’s black with various patches sewn in to keep it together, the metal rusting, the handle made of wood, and he rubs a strange substance on it to get it to open up.

Hrodgar’s smile was beatific. Kemp and Kenward walked through the city and towards the industrial side of town where the loud metal smiths and smelly tanners worked. They found one of the larger blacksmiths that had been recommended to them and owned by a man called Farsh. He was not the Master Smith but well respected. Farsh wore a thick leather apron covered in burn spots. A tunic of the same thick leather covered his torso and left his huge arms bare. His arms were enormous, as with most men in that trade, and the arms were also covered in thick, matted hair, much like those of some type of large apes seen in travelling side shows.

The male snapped before letting out a huff akin to what a petulant child would do when sulking. Sierra was quiet for a moment as she tapped on the tablet before holding up a picture of an elderly male. "Do you recognise this man?" "No." "Are you sure?" Sierra asked. "You've not even looked at the photo." "I'm sure." "Let the record state that Mr Thorn is unable to identify the male in the picture marked BM19. The picture is of Former Alpha Hal Cuzens who disappeared nineteen years ago from the Blue Mountain pack." The silence said it all but if it didn't the look of sheer panic on Nathaniel's face did. He had been caught in his first lie. Just like that, the tone of the interview changed, th