The Onyx Cinder Star Wars Novels & Stories

Cain begins to feel irritated looking at Onyx acting all formal. “Stop acting politely and all formal. It’s disgusting.” Cain says abruptly. Onyx loses his patient and stares at him fiercely. He is boiling with anger. Suddenly, his suit is steaming and gas emits throughout his body. Then, a crimson fire burns the entire suit and traces to his hair. When the fire has burnt out, Onyx appearance has changed. He’s wearing a black hooded-singlet, a black trouser with chain hanging from one of the pocket, and a pair of black leather boots with belts strap all over it. His iris shifts from amber to electric blue.

“Grows on meteorites? “She laughed slightly. “Yes. It looks like a diamond. Acts like a diamond. But it is a star stone. Somehow when I thought of that, I knew that was what I wanted to get you on the day our sons were born.” He said as he slipped it on her finger. “A piece of the stars from me to you.”

"And if we refuse?" Cyrus looked up at the black ship. "Then we move to 'Active Liquidation.' We reclaim the asset by force. The Oasis will be the first to go. Their Crawlers are particularly susceptible to our frequency-scramblers. They won't even have time to suffocate; their lungs will simply stop recognizing oxygen." The Choice of the Cinders

Oren was just a bounty ranker at partial Cosmos Rank, so of course, he could not damage the Nine Turning Star Iron. “Oren, to be honest, I do know what this is. However, you can’t take it back even after I tell you. I promise I will pay enough to compensate you. What do you think?”

Inside the shield, it was dry, illuminated by the harsh industrial floodlights of the base. Below, in the courtyard, two hundred soldiers were moving in perfect synchronization. They weren't the starving refugees I had saved from the jungle six months ago. They were unrecognizable. They moved like oil. Silent. Lethal. They wore matte-black armor synthesized from the island’s mineral deposits and treated with Mara’s alchemical compounds. They carried weapons modified with Western solar tech and Northern iron. They were the Onyx Legion. And they were terrifying. "We launch at the New Moon," I said, the date hanging over us like a guillotine. "Forty-eight hours."

“Welcome to the Silver Moon territory.” She met my gaze steadily, her expression unreadable. “Thank you for allowing me entry, Rykor,” she replied coolly, though there was a tremor of unease in her voice. I nodded, taking in her defiant posture and the guarded pain in her eyes. “Of course. Follow me. I’ll show you around.” As we walked through the lush greenery that surrounded the estate, I caught glimpses of my pack members watching us from a distance—eyes wide with curiosity and apprehension. The stories of the Luna of Death were not easily forgotten, and her presence here was nothing short of a marvel.

The box's lid creaked softly, releasing the scent of aged wood and memories. "Rosalind, this belonged to your father," Cathryn said, her voice tinged with nostalgia. As she opened the box, a faint glow emanated from within. Inside, a beautiful silver necklace lay coiled, adorned with a small, moonstone pendant. The stone pulsed softly, radiating a gentle, ethereal light. "Orion's mother crafted this," Cathryn explained, her fingers tracing the pendant's contours. "A symbol of our pack's lunar heritage."

“You’ll get used to it.” “I already am,” I admitted, and that was the truth. Crimson Snow Pack was nothing like Ironcrest. It wasn’t as structured, and not as disciplined. The warriors trained, yes but without the same precision I had grown up seeing. The packhouse wasn’t as grand, the people not as guarded. Everything felt… freer. And for a while, I convinced myself that was enough. Damon stepped closer, his hand brushing lightly against mine before he intertwined our fingers.

The dim lantern light painted golden hues across the cold obsidian walls of the subterranean cell, casting soft shadows around them. Kira sat on the stone bench, her unbound wrists resting in her lap. The silver starlight behind her eyes danced softly, fully restored now that the dampening iron lay discarded on the floor. Beside her, Cassian remained on one knee, his broad hand still tightly lacing his fingers through hers as if releasing her even for a second would cause her to vanish back into the dark.

Thorgan was simple, loyal, and harmless in a strange way. "You will be rewarded." "Well, okay then." Hearing he would not have to fight, Thorgan visibly relaxed. "As long as I'm not throwing punches, we're good." Still on the call, Cyrus walked into a second-floor collectibles room. The room had belonged to Severin. The space covered more than 800 square feet and held rare figures everywhere. Many were limited to ten sets worldwide. Some had been discontinued for years. Cyrus casually picked up a pure gold Saint Goldstar figurine, snapped a photo, and sent it over. "Help me handle this properly and I'll give you the complete Zodiac set, all in solid gold."