A River In Darkness Novels & Stories

she cried to us as she handed us the painting that was meant for us. I just smiled at her as she hugged us. I looked down at the painting I was holding. "Life in the Darkness" — The Woman Who Lived in the Dark." ** Life in Darkness has signed off.

Armed with an extra blanket that she found from the cabinet near the bathroom, Morana wrapped her body with the blanket. Even though it's not as warm and comfortable as when she sleeps on the bed, but at least it's good enough to get through this night. Before going to sleep, Morana turned off all the lights in the room, leaving only the dim moonlight on the night sky to illuminate this room, because of the pouring rain. Morana loved this kind of dark atmosphere, making her feel like she could hide in the dim night, as if her existence had no meaning so nothing could hurt her anymore.

) "C'è un seminterrato. Il capo l'ha costruito. È lì che fa tutto il traffico e la tortura." (There's a basement; the boss built it. That's where he does all the trafficking and torture.) Adam pulled the trigger, letting the man's body fall to the ground. My eyes widened in shock as he walked past me, seeming unbothered by the blood on his face. "WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU JUST STANDING THERE?" Adam's booming voice made me jump. I ran after him and grabbed the radio I had in my pocket. "Bravo to all units. The dove is in a club on the Chicago Riverwalk near Michigan Avenue. Head there immediately and wait for further orders."

His promises to me were as fragile as bubbles, vanishing into thin air. When I was ten, the River family adopted me. My father and Rowan's dad, Patrick River, had been good friends. When my father was diagnosed with cancer, he entrusted me to Patrick before he passed. When I first arrived at the Rivers household, everyone except Patrick was cold to me. Since I was adopted, the maids and even Rowan's mother thought it was unnecessary to show me any respect. I had to tiptoe around, just trying to survive in that house.

It was a heart-wrenching tableau of despair and loss, a stark reminder of the fragility of life and the merciless power of nature. As James and Isabella clung to each other, their tears mingling with the waters of the river that had claimed their son, their anguish was a poignant reminder of the enduring pain that comes with losing a loved one, a pain that would forever leave an indelible mark on their hearts and the hearts of all who had witnessed this tragic day by the river.

Francis waded into the water. It rose over his shoes, drenched his pant legs, and engulfed his knees. He walked on, as if drawn to a fate he could not escape. Nora ran after him, her screams piercing the air. "Francis! Come back!" He glanced back, his eyes eerily serene. "Tell her," he said, "I was wrong." Then he turned back to the sea and kept walking. The water reached his chest, his neck, and then his head. He closed his eyes and gave up the fight.

The impact with the black, subterranean river was like crashing into a wall of solid ice. The freezing water violently shocked the remaining air from my lungs, instantly snapping the intoxicating haze of the oxygen-starved ecstasy we had just shared. Darkness swallowed us whole. The current was a roaring, subterranean beast, tearing us down a jagged stone chute buried deep beneath the foundations of Rome.

I was indebted to him, he had set me free and was fighting the dragon so I could stay here in my blissful ignorance. The news stories just kept coming though and I couldn’t seem to avoid them, bodies washed up on the river, businesses robbed, cars crashing on the highway. The small port city was now a warzone in my wake. To make matters worse I had begun looking over my shoulder as if I expected to find someone there, all the horrible things around me I felt like the time in my world was slowly dwindling away. I felt like I was holding on tightly to a sinking ship, ready to drown with it.

We didn't let the darkness win. END OF VOLUME ONE

“Or maybe I’ve just stopped running from what I am.” The path narrowed as we moved deeper into the woods. The mist thickened. Even the birds stopped singing. After a while, we reached a dark clearing. Before us stretched a wide river, the River of Shadows. Its surface was black, smooth, and eerily still. No ripples. No wind. Just silence. Hardin squinted. “Doesn’t look like normal water.” “It’s not,” Lotus said through my mind. Her voice was steady. “Be careful, Jade. This river feeds on emotion. Fear makes it stronger.”