127 Hours The Book Novels & Stories

Six hours to prove my legacy wasn't a mistake. Six hours to save everything. Or lose it all. THE END

Still in shape, preserved where time never runs to eat and fade everything away. Winona draws a cunning smile on her face, as she said. “Still as pristine. I wonder if that book is still in here.” She teasingly thought. Knew and all along that the book that she means is still placed and secure within the protection of the library. The book that she loves to read from way past and always, the only book that contains the information of the seven existing worlds. “Seven deadly sins, seven worlds, and the seven books. Maybe I’ll spare a little time to read it again.”

Blessed Werewolves, well, at least he made himself useful in one way. I skimmed through the pages, and I think this book is just what I’m looking for. It probably won’t tell me exactly what my mark means, but it might give me some clues. I glanced at the clock. I’m running out of time. I only have an hour before warrior training, and now I need a cold shower. I calmed myself down and checked the book out. I’ll have time to look through it tonight. Thank the goddess my next class is warrior training. I need to burn off some energy.

The air in the room was still hot, smelling of skin, smoke, and release. The boredom of the ridge was gone. The numbness of isolation had been burned away in the span of a single hour. And as Liam stared up into the shadowed rafters of the cabin, a slow, genuine smile touched his lips for the first time in weeks. Seventy-seven chapters left. And they were just getting started.

The dark. I thought about thirty-six hours and what they were and what they contained, and the first evening of them, and the dinner and the wine and the story about fifteen years ago, and the library and the lamplight and the two hours of adjacent silence. I thought: soon. And underneath that, with the specific, clear, fully-examined certainty of something that had been arriving for a long time and had tonight arrived considerably closer: Very soon. I closed the book. I turned off the lamp.

I entered mine, went through the three books I had gotten from the store, and set them down on the bed. I folded my arms and read their names. The Claiming Rites, Finding the One, and Under the Red Moon. There was no order in which anyone should read these books, so I sat down and picked up The Claiming Rites. After an hour, I finished reading. The book made zero sense, and then I picked up Finding the One and spent another hour reading through it. While the first book was incomplete, the second made a little more sense. I picked up the third, which I had gone to Zion’s room with. I took my time reading, and another hour went by.

Adrian Hale laughed, actual laughter, and she'd heard him laugh before but not like that, not in her kitchen with her mother telling stories. She thought: I didn't know this was possible. She thought: I built the wrong thing for five years. At the door, on his way out, he stopped. He turned, the same way he always did with the one more thing, and she stood ready for it. "The book," he said. "One Hundred Years of Solitude, with the coffee ring. I left it in your bag on purpose." She looked at him. "Page 212," he said. "You'll find the margin note."

Zara’s POV: (Two hours before the crack) After the dinner I went back to my room and so did mom. I prepared for bed but wasn’t feeling sleepy enough, hence decided to read a book. I walked towards my book shelf and pulled out a book, the one which I left in middle a month ago. With book in my left hand I hopped on the bed and pulled the duvet up till my waist. It was around midnight the whole house went quiet and dark. Only my lamp was on as I was so immersed in the story. Then I heard a glass shattering, I flinched and immediately got off the bed.