Warriors Of Stone Novels & Stories

My senses were honed, and I could track their every move. I signaled my warriors, and they moved silently into their positions. The rogues were close now, their excitement palpable. They were eager to get their hands on the ancient stone, unaware that we were ready and waiting for them. From my vantage point, I watched as the rogues crept closer to the stone’s resting place. Their leader, a burly wolf with a scar across his face, was at the forefront, leading the charge. His arrogance was evident in his posture and the way he barked orders to his subordinates.

Stone might have ordered him to fetch me from the room they assigned for me. I stood up and slipped the torn photo of Althea that I took from Stone’s office into my duffel bag. I wanted to carry her picture with me, but I might need to let my wolf out, and I didn’t want to lose that one as I might not get a chance to grab another. I threw the duffel bag on the floor beside my bed before I followed the warrior out. Outside the warrior’s building were many warriors, all geared up for an attack. Stone was already present, and standing beside him were his Luna and his Beta.

Waiting would be death—and not just for her, but for everyone who had chosen to stand beside her. The warriors of the united packs gathered in the old stone ring at dawn, breath misting in the chill, eyes wary. Some were veterans with scars thick on their arms; others were barely past adolescence, wide-eyed and brittle with uncertainty. But all of them had chosen this—had pledged themselves to a war against something none of them fully understood. Veyra stood before them, her shadow long across the frost-silvered grass. At her hip, the stoneblade pulsed, humming a song only she could hear—a low, thrumming call of power.

It made me wonder how his mate could- Let me stop that train of thought before a certain someone peeked into my head again. I really needed to get him blocked. I thought I remembered Axil mentioning something about the giant’s name being River... Ryder? Something like that. He was one of their best pack warriors, no surprise there and was the only one strong enough to match their strength since he was the one that trained them when they were young. It's crazy. He's ancient but he still looks like a guy in his early 40s. Just how slow did werewolves age?

God knew what was waiting for me. “Enough chatter, it’s time to tell you Miss Holland that I won’t leave you alone!” that male voice intervened and every time I heard it sent shivers through my body. “I see, Mr Stone…” I approved by looking at him, but the bandages still bothered me. “So you do know me...” His voice got a tone lower. “Who doesn’t? Are you here because...” I had to acknowledge the actor’s notoriety but there was no guarantee that the man in front of me, whom I couldn’t see, was actually Dominic Stone.

I stepped to the edge of the stone, leaning over them, my voice rising into a sharp, charging tone that made even the blood in my veins spark. "Leave no stone untouched. Spare nobody that comes in your way,” I continued. “If a Sun Flower warrior lifts a blade, you put them in the dirt. If their secondary lines attempt to stall your march, you burn their fields until they have nothing left to defend. We are going to show them the true cost of crossing the Moon Stone banner." I paused, letting the fierce, lethal energy swim in the heavy air around us. I watched as the warriors breathed in together, their eyes widened and their inner wolves scratching at the surface, hungry for the hunt.

"What are you doing? These men are rebels! They are the ones who started the war!" Leo laughed. It was a cold, sharp sound. It didn't sound like the brother who used to help me dye silk in our tiny hut. "The war was a lie, Izzy," Leo said. He stepped closer, the purple light of his sword reflecting in his eyes. "The Valerion family stole the throne from the Weavers three hundred years ago. They turned our magic into a crime so they could stay in power. I’m not a rebel. I’m the rightful heir."

The necklace against her skin pulsed harder, echoing the sacred rhythm of the stone in her hands. The stone seemed to respond, warm now under her fingertips, radiating a quiet insistence that pressed against her chest. The world around her—the clatter of tools, the murmur of voices—fell away into something distant and hollow. Jaiyana’s breath caught as a vibration, soft but insistent, rose from the stone into her bones.

Damon The air was thick with sweat and pine as I ended my training round, the last punch landing with a dull thud against the padded dummy. My knuckles stung, but the pain grounded me. About thirty minutes before, I finished my training with my warriors. They were some of the best in the Dark Moon Pack. “Alpha!” a voice called out, breathless and urgent. I turned sharply. It was one of the gate guards, wide-eyed and panting. “There’s a fight at the border. A rogue tried to force entry. She’s—” He hesitated, swallowing. “She’s handling herself.”

I'm made of sharp edges and vengeance, and I will not crumble. "Eleven years. You should be more informed," I snap. It's a foolish mistake to irritate a Warrior, but I'm tired of being undermined and treated as a disposable toy. He clenches his fists. He's the perfect impersonation of danger, and for the first time, I wonder who exactly I'm dealing with here. "Careful," the word barely escapes his gritted teeth. "We're done here. I will only answer to your Alpha," my voice comes out cold and detached.