Novels by Tobi Alade

The skeletal hand tightened around Elara’s ribs. She could hear the bones of the undead king grinding against her own skin. She gasped for air, her legs dangling over the pit of black oil."Let her go!" Korth roared.He tried to shift back into his dragon form, but his body just flickered. The black lightning from earlier had poisoned his blood. He fell to one knee, coughing up more gray smoke. He looked small. He looked human. And for the first time, he looked helpless."The girl is nothing," the monster in the silk robes rasped. The King’s jaw didn't move, yet the voice boomed from the ground. "She is a flea on a dragon’s back. Give me your heart, Archivist. Give me the immortality you’ve hoarded for a thousand years, and I will let her crawl away."Elara struggled, reaching for the knife in her belt, but the King’s grip was like iron. She looked down at Korth. She saw the pain in his eyes, not just the physical sting of the poison but the agony of a choice."Don't do it," she wante

The world became a blur of breaking wood and shattering tiles. Korth’s massive body slammed through a rooftop, then another, until they finally crashed into a stone courtyard. Dust and smoke filled the air.Elara rolled off the dragon’s back, her skin scraped and her head spinning. She scrambled to her feet, looking for Joren. The boy was lying a few feet away, tangled in Korth’s discarded human cloak. He was still alive, but his breathing sounded like dry leaves scraping on stone.Korth was already shrinking. The majestic dragon was gone, replaced by the pale, trembling man. He was clutching his chest where the black lightning had struck. His clothes were charred, and his eyes were dull."Korth! Get up!" Elara hissed, grabbing his arm."The Crown..." Korth gasped, coughing up a puff of gray smoke. "The Crown of Ash wasn't just a symbol, Elara. It’s a weapon. It’s built to kill my kind.""Well, it didn't finish the job," she said, pulling him toward the shadow of a stone archway. "We’

The black smoke tasted like bitter copper. It wasn’t just mist; it was a physical weight that pressed against Elara’s lungs, threatening to snuff out her life."Korth!" she choked out, reaching into the darkness.Her hand met scales hard, hot, and vibrating with a low growl. Korth was transforming. The dragon’s power was the only thing keeping the smoke from crushing them instantly. A massive, clawed wing swept through the air, clearing a path in the gloom.Elara looked toward the center of the room. The scribe, a quiet man named Thomas who had worked in the kitchens for two years, stood in the middle of the black cloud. He wasn’t coughing. He wasn't afraid. He looked at Korth with a hungry, twisted smile."The King's last words were a distraction," Thomas said, his voice echoing with a strange, metallic ring. "A shiny toy to keep the dragon busy while we took what really mattered.""Who is 'we'? " Elara demanded, pulling a small throwing knife from her sleeve. "And what could be more

The sound of shattering glass was like a thousand screams at once.Elara dove behind Korth’s heavy oak desk as shards of crystal flew through the air. Each broken vial released a puff of colored smoke: red for rage, blue for sorrow, and gold for a secret that could topple a throne. The room was filled with a chaotic chorus of voices. Thousands of people, all trying to say their last words at the same time."Stop him!" Elara yelled, her ears ringing.Korth was no longer the thin, tired librarian. His shadow grew until it hit the ceiling. Claws tore through his human skin, and his eyes burned like twin suns. He lunged at Joren, the boy who had inhaled the king's soul.But Joren didn't move like a boy anymore. He moved like a soldier who had fought a hundred wars. He dodged Korth’s massive hand with a graceful spin."You are too slow, Dragon," Joren said. His voice was deep and rasping, the voice of the dead King Aldren. "You spent too long hiding in this mountain. You forgot what it’s l

Korth did not care for gold. Gold was cold, silent, and told no stories. He preferred the warmth of a secret.In the center of the Peak of Whispers, the dragon sat in his human form, a tall, bone-thin man with eyes like polished obsidian. Around him, thousands of crystal vials pulsed with a soft, milky light. Each one held a "Last Word," the final sentence spoken by a person at the moment of their death."Vial 8,902 is leaking, Korth," Elara said, her voice echoing against the stone walls.She didn't look up from her ledger. Elara Venn was a woman of ink and numbers. She was the only person alive who could look at a dragon and see a messy filing system instead of a god."It is not leaking," Korth rumbled, his voice deep enough to vibrate the floor. "The spirit within is restless. It was a poet. They always find the glass too tight.""It’s a hazard," Elara countered, finally looking up. Her brown eyes were sharp, scanning the rows of glowing glass. "If a Last Word escapes, it vanishes