Novels by Papichilow

There’s something about silence right before a storm. Like the world knows something bad’s about to go down, and it just… holds its breath. That’s how it felt the morning we left the safehouse. Janie’s wards were holding, but barely. Whatever spell Kael had cast over the city was crawling through the cracks. Her sigils flickered at the edges like dying neon signs, and every now and then, I could hear this low humming—like the walls were trying to whisper secrets we weren’t supposed to hear. I packed light, Just the essentials: charms, weapons, a burner phone, and of course, the pendant. Lira? She had nothing but that tired old backpack and an oversized hoodie that swallowed her whole. You wouldn’t look at her twice on the street, and maybe that was the point. We didn’t speak much. What was there to say? Milo was still missing. The pendant was basically a blood-soaked nuke. And the woman who might’ve started all this? Still breathing. Still running. And now tagging along with me.

We left just before sunrise, when the streets were still groggy and too tired to care who was slipping through their cracks. Lira clutched her jacket tight like it was armor, and I could tell from the way her eyes kept bouncing around that sleep hadn’t done her any favors.“Where exactly are we going?” she asked, voice low like we were already being followed.“Grimfall,” I said. “Old sector, near the border.”She froze mid-step. “Grimfall? The place where people go missing?”“Yep. That’s the one.”“And you’re taking me there... why?”“Because that’s where Milo was last seen.”Lira didn’t argue. She just kept walking, her lips tight like she was holding back a scream or a dozen questions. I didn’t blame her. Grimfall wasn’t just dangerous—it was cursed.Once, it was a normal district like any other. Then the war hit. Territory battles, rogue wolves, witches with vendettas. Now it was a cracked-out maze of burnt-out buildings and blood-soaked ground. You didn’t go there unless you were

When I say I didn’t sleep that night, I mean at all. Lira passed out on Janie’s couch the second her head hit the throw pillow, but me? I stayed up watching the shadows outside like some paranoid raccoon with a bad caffeine habit.Something about this whole thing had me twitchy. Not just the pendant. Not just Lira. It was the vibe. Like I was in the middle of a game I didn’t know I was playing yet. And I hate not knowing the rules.By morning, Janie had already brewed her demon-strong coffee and rolled out the witchy version of breakfast: apple slices with black salt, a green smoothie that smelled like wet moss, and a stack of papers she’d printed from the archives using her very illegal portal access."You’re gonna want to read this," she said, dropping them on the table in front of me.I squinted at the heading: Blood Pact Amendment: Silver Ash Pack — Revised Two Years Ago."Okay," I muttered, flipping pages. Lira stirred on the couch, groggy but alive.Janie pulled out a chair acro

Do you ever get that gut feeling like you’re being set up? That’s where I was the morning after the pendant showed up in my kitchen. I didn’t sleep. Not really. Just laid there staring at the ceiling, thinking about how something I didn’t find ended up in my apartment like it belonged here.I didn’t touch it. Hell no. I just looked at it from across the counter like it was a bomb waiting to go off. I even left the kitchen light on all night. Like that would help.By sunrise, my brain was fried, and I needed answers. Real ones. Milo Deen hadn’t responded to any of my messages—not a peep since the job offer. Weird, right? You don’t ghost a tracker you just paid serious cash to. Unless you’ve got something to hide.So I did what I always do when something stinks: I hunted down the smell.First stop—Viremont Archives.I threw on a hoodie, yanked my braid through the back of a cap, and shoved the pendant in a lead-lined pouch. The less it touches the air, the better. Magic objects soak up

Some jobs are simple. Clean. No mess. Get in, find the thing, grab your cash, bounce. I like those jobs. I live for those jobs. But this one? Nah. This one felt off the second it popped into my inbox.No hello. No details. Just a name I didn’t know—Milo Deen—and a ridiculous offer to track down a pendant. No backstory. No photo. No reason someone like me should even be on this guy’s radar. That was the first red flag. The second? He mentioned the Silver Ash Pack. Yeah... those wolves don’t lose things. And they sure as hell don’t call up lone rogues like me for help.Still, money’s money, and rent was due yesterday.I was slouched in my usual booth at Gray’s Diner, half-finished coffee in hand, phone screen glowing while the old ceiling fan tried its best to cool the heat off my neck. The place was dead quiet except for someone arguing over the phone in the back and the soft buzz of neon lights that made everyone look a little more tired than they were.I read the message again, squin