Romans & histoires A Thousand Suns

One evening, as the red sun dipped below the crystal spires, Aevon was looking at Sela's tapestry of the two suns. "Why?" Aevon asked, pointing to the yellow sun. Sela paused her weaving. It was the first "why" Aevon had ever asked. It was a question about possibility. About a world that could be different. "On my world," Sela said slowly, choosing her words with care, "the sun is yellow. It is warm. It helps things grow. It... sings a different song." Aevon considered this. "This sun," it said, pointing to the red one in the sky, "sings a sad song."

The night sky blazed like molten gold. Even the stars seemed to vanish as an unnatural light seeped across the horizon. Packs all over the land lifted their muzzles, their howls drowned out by the deafening roar of firestorms crackling in the south. The Solar Wolves had begun. Scene One: The March of Fire

“Come on. Let’s teach the world how to live with two suns.”

I’m not a gloomy person by any means, but when everyone thinks of you as this ray of sunshine, some high expectations come along with that, and I don’t like to disappoint people. Why do I have to be a ray of sunshine for everyone? When do I get to just be Aurora Williams: human being? _______________ Authors Note: To anyone familiar with my previous work, I will go ahead and tell you that this is nothing like what I've done before. I've written this book to challenge myself as a writer. Also, there are some rape scenes that may trigger some readers, so keep that in mind before you begin reading. The book is yet to be edited so some slight adjustments will be made in the future for redundanci

The stars come out, bright as they have ever been, and the faintest blush of dawn glimmers on the horizon. Thalia stands in the snow, breath fogging in the air, Rowan at her side, Mara and Fyre at her back. She is tired—gods, she is so tired—but she is not alone. And for the first time since her rebirth, she feels that she is home. The dark is not gone; it never will be. But it cannot have them—not tonight, not ever, so long as the light they carry is shared. And so, together, they wait for sunrise.

the leader screamed over the roar of the water, "then he will burn in the light of the first dawn!" He twisted the top of the canister. A blinding, searing beam of concentrated solar energy erupted from the device, a Solar Flare, a weapon designed by the Council specifically to incinerate creatures of the night. It wasn't fire, it was pure, distilled sunlight, aimed directly at Calhoun’s back. "NO!" I screamed. I didn't think. I didn't calculate. Instead I threw myself in front of Calhoun. The light hit me like a physical blow. It felt like my skin was being peeled back, like my very marrow was boiling.

CHAPTER NINETEEN — OPEN HEARTS The second day of their getaway dawned with golden sunlight spilling over the ocean. Yara awoke to the sound of gentle waves and the faint scent of coffee drifting from the porch. Jamal was already up, sitting with two mugs of steaming tea. He looked up as she emerged from the cabin, smiling softly. “Morning,” he said, handing her a mug. “Morning,” she replied, taking it and letting the warmth seep into her hands.

It was a harsh, orange radiance that felt like a fever dream. "Jax! Get everyone under the thermal shields! Now!" Sofia screamed, her voice shattering the frozen silence of the Wastes. (NOMO HOLT’S POINT OF VIEW) "What the hell is that? Zilo, look at the light! It’s not the sun!" Nomo shouted, squinting through his visor as the gray sky was suddenly torn open by beams of blinding, orange energy. The beams didn't just illuminate the Wastes; they scorched them. The frost on the viewport evaporated instantly, the glass turning hot to the touch.

The Sun-Tower was a marvel of architectural arrogance. Every floor was a concentric circle of glass and cold, white marble, designed to keep the "biologicals" in a state of perpetual observation. Rhea stood in the center of her guest suite, the silver chainmail of her dress feeling like a lead weight. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city of Oakhaven pulsed with artificial light, a sprawling machine that never slept.