The Iron Wolf's Moon (eBook)

Kelly Johnson (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2025
156 Seiten
Kelly Johnson (Verlag)
978-3-69111-202-3 (ISBN)

Infos

In The Iron Wolfs Moon by Kelly Johnson, an ancient terror awakens as a blood-red moon rises over the quiet mountain village of Hallowfen. Kaelen, a blacksmith with a haunted past, witnesses the sky itself howl with a bone-chilling cry, followed by the eerie vision of a massive, shadowy wolf hovering above the crimson-lit landscape. As fear ripples through the villagers, old prophecies resurfacewarnings of an Iron Curse and a beast that feeds on chaos. Though dismissed by many as mere superstition, the dread in the air is undeniable. The first chapter sets the stage for a dark, atmospheric tale where myth and reality collide, and Kaelen may be the only one who can confront the ancient force now stirring beneath the blood moons gaze.

Great artist and talented writer. Enjoys creating products people enjoy.

Textauszug

Chapter 2: The Wolfborn

The morning after the blood moon, Kaelen woke with a scream caught in his throat and sweat soaked into his sheets. His chest heaved like he’d been sprinting for hours, lungs ragged, heart hammering. His dreams had been filled with metal—twisting gears and rusted fangs, glowing eyes and the relentless pounding of claws on iron ground. And over it all, a howl that shook the dream-world apart.

He sat up, blinking in the half-light of dawn. Something was wrong.

The quiet that usually accompanied the early hours of the morning felt heavier today, like the very air had thickened in his lungs. Kaelen paused, struggling to clear the fog of sleep from his mind, but it wasn’t just grogginess weighing on him. There was something in the atmosphere, something faintly unsettling.

The familiar scents of the smithy—coal, ash, oil—were suddenly sharper, crisper, like each breath filled his lungs with a clarity he hadn’t known before. He could almost taste the burnt metal on the air, the sharp tang of iron from the forge, the earthy bitterness of the soot that coated the walls. The smell was no longer just a part of his daily routine; it was a presence, as though the very air itself was alive, breathing with him, in rhythm with the pulse of his heart. Each inhale seemed to stir something deep within him, as though he was attuning himself to something ancient and untapped. The sounds, too, were exaggerated. The thud of the village baker kneading dough half a street away rang out with such clarity that it felt like he was standing in the same room. The low hum of conversation from the market square, the faraway chatter of children playing near the fountain, all seemed to merge into a symphony of life, each note vibrating through his bones. Every creak of wood, every bird’s flutter in the trees, reverberated through his mind, louder and more detailed than ever before. It was overwhelming, a cacophony that threatened to drown him in its intensity, yet it also felt… right, as if the world was finally in focus, in tune with something deeper than his own awareness.

The steady drip of water from the leaky faucet in the corner of his room was a steady rhythm, almost maddening, echoing in his ears as though it were a drumbeat. The sound repeated, insistent, punctuating the silence between the other noises, a reminder that his perception had shifted. He could hear the way the droplets splashed against the basin, the way they shifted from plink to plunk as the pace quickened, creating an almost hypnotic pattern in his mind. Each drip seemed to carry with it a weight, a message he couldn’t understand but could feel in the pit of his stomach. The sound took on a different quality, the way a distant bell might toll, drawing his attention to it in a way that no normal drip ever had.

And his stomach. It growled, but not in the way it had before. This hunger was a ravenous, insatiable thing, gnawing at his insides with a force that left him breathless. He had been hungry after a long shift at the forge, yes, but nothing like this. This was the hunger of something primal—wild—something deeper than just the need for food. It was a gnawing, aching emptiness that stretched further than the need to fill his stomach, an urge to consume, to devour, as though his very body demanded more than sustenance—it demanded release, power, purpose. It felt as though his bones themselves were hungry, as though his muscles were crying out for something they had never known before, a thirst that no amount of water or food could quench. His mind raced with questions. What was this? Was it the forge’s heat still clinging to him, or was it something else—something more dangerous and far beyond what he could understand?

He stumbled to the washbasin, his legs shaky, each step feeling like a new weight pressing against him. His muscles trembled with each movement, his body unwilling to obey his mind as if he were carrying an invisible burden, one that dragged at him with the force of a storm. His heart beat erratically, thumping in his chest as if it were trying to break free, as if it were out of sync with everything else. He braced himself against the counter, struggling to steady his breath, and splashed cold water across his face, hoping the shock would bring him back to his senses. The coldness hit him like a jolt, its briskness doing little to calm the chaos rising inside him, though it did manage to clear his head for a fleeting moment. The water ran down his face, dripping off his chin, its coolness refreshing in its own way, but it did nothing to quiet the unsettling power gathering inside him.

His hands trembled as he wiped the water from his skin, the sensation so strange, so foreign. He glanced at his reflection in the tarnished mirror hanging on the wall. The glass, clouded with age, distorted his image slightly, but as he caught sight of himself, he froze. Something wasn’t right. His eyes, once dark brown and steady, now gleamed with an intensity he hadn’t seen before. They were different—wilder, fiercer—no longer just a reflection of the man he had been but of something deeper, something ancient, something untamed. The pupils were no longer round but slitted, like the gaze of a predator, a creature that hunted and stalked in the shadows. His breath caught in his throat as he stared at the reflection, the clarity of his vision allowing him to see the changes more sharply than ever. It was as though the mirror was showing him not just his appearance but the very essence of what he was becoming.

He leaned in closer, his heart pounding in his chest. His breath fogged the glass slightly, but his eyes remained locked on his own. “What have I become?” he whispered, the words foreign on his tongue, as if they didn’t belong to him, as if they belonged to someone—or something—else entirely. The hunger inside him shifted again, gnawing with greater urgency. It was no longer a question of whether he could fight it—it was now a question of who he would become in the process.

Still the same storm-gray that had always been his, but there was something there now, something in the depth of them that made his breath catch in his throat. A faint glow lingered in the dark, like embers left too long in a fire, still smoldering even after the flames had died down. His eyes shimmered, the edges almost blurry as though the light within them was just beneath the surface, threatening to break free. He blinked rapidly, but it didn’t fade. In fact, it grew brighter, pulsing faintly as though it was part of him now—something that had always been there but was only now revealing itself.

And then there was the pain.

At first, it was a dull throb, a subtle ache deep in his back that he could ignore, but it quickly spiraled into something far worse. The pain began as a tightness in his shoulders, creeping slowly down his spine, as though the bones were bending, stretching. It flared sharply, and he gasped, dropping his hand to his back as the sensation of hot nails crawling beneath his skin made him stagger. His breath came faster, erratic, as the pain grew stronger, shooting down the length of his spine, curling around his ribs like a vice. His legs buckled, and he had to brace himself against the wooden railing outside the smithy, trembling as waves of agony washed over him.

His muscles twitched uncontrollably, and he felt an energy building inside him—a strange, restless force that pulsed like a living thing, pushing against his skin, desperate to break free. He shook his hands, trying to calm the trembling, but it only made it worse. It was as though his body was no longer his own. It was changing, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Kaelen forced himself to stand, his movements stiff, slow, as though his body had forgotten how to move. He dressed quickly, but the fabric of his shirt felt tight against his skin, like the threads were pulling at him, restricting him. His hands were unsteady as he fastened the buttons of his pants, the tremors running through him not entirely from the pain. It was the feeling of being too small for his own skin, like something inside him was stretching and pushing, threatening to tear free.

The village was quiet when he stepped out into the square, and yet it felt anything but. The air seemed to hum with an energy he couldn’t explain, like the world itself was holding its breath. He took a step, then another, and as he walked, the villagers watched him differently. They didn’t speak, but their eyes followed him, and there was something in their gaze—something unfamiliar.

They stepped just slightly out of his path, their movements more cautious, less assured. Kaelen could feel their eyes on him, like they were trying to read him, trying to make sense of something that wasn’t quite right. He could hear the murmur of voices—low and uncertain—as he passed, but no one greeted him. No friendly calls or waves, only tight-lipped nods. Children peeked from behind their mothers’ skirts, their curious eyes wide and uncertain. They sensed it too—the strange shift in the air, in Kaelen himself.

Even Master Orric, the village blacksmith, whom Kaelen had worked beside for years, looked at him with a wariness Kaelen had never seen before. The old man stood at the door of the forge, his hands resting on the iron frame, a frown tugging at his lips. He made no attempt to ask why Kaelen had arrived late. Instead, he simply eyed him, his gaze sharp, searching for something he couldn’t quite place.

Kaelen felt it. He felt their eyes like heat against his skin. And for the first time, he realized that they weren’t just noticing the strange energy in the air—they were noticing it in him....

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 20.5.2025
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Fantasy / Science Fiction ► Fantasy
• Schlagworte: ancient evil • ancient force • ancient myth • ancient terror • Atmospheric • Beast • blacksmith • blood-lit night • Blood Moon • Chaos • chilling cry • Confrontation • crimson sky • cursed hero • cursed land • cursed prophecy • Dark Fantasy • Dark Power • Destiny • Dread • eerie vision • fatebound • fear • Folklore • Hallowfen • Haunted Past • haunted village • hidden truth • Horror • howl • Iron Curse • Iron Wolf • Kaelen • Legend • Magic • moonrise • mountain village • Mystery • Myth • mythical creature • ominous signs • Prophecy • Protector • Red Sky • shadow • shadowy wolf • spectral beast • Supernatural • Survival • Suspense • Transformation • Twisted Fate
• ISBN-10: 3-69111-202-1 / 3691112021
• ISBN-13: 978-3-69111-202-3 / 9783691112023