Agartha Book Novels & Stories

Arthur notices what I did, and he grabs the book under my pillow. "Why are you hiding this?" He asks me, and I notice that he catches Lucas's attention. Lucas looks at us and checks the book Arthur's holding. "What's that?" He asks him. "How to avoid writer's block? by Ezckapel." He read the title. I explain to them that I wanted that book. I explain to them that I've been suffering from Writer's Block since I got into an accident. Arthur got shocked by what he heard.

Garamba direct her eyes to Astaroth who is already charging for them and she places her hand on Genteel’s shoulder, “I am afraid you will have to rest after. He is coming at us, charging like a bull! I wonder what happened to his horns.” Genteel enhances her body with magic, “Now I am ready!” “Good!” The ladies light up their eyes and run towards separate directions, Genteel to the left and Garamba to the right. Astaroth stops his charge and watches the two ladies as they charge at him from both sides. Genteel throws her stuff like a spear while Garamba creates a rising dark whirlwind around him to block him from seeing the stuff and blocking it. Gurudza watches as the two launch their firs

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Alice pointed in my direction. My mother shook her head “No, that was not revenge that was beautiful. When Adam died, a piece of my soul died too. When you conceived Jasper, I was lost still mourning the death of my son. When I woke up from my grief I found the most beautiful man hidden amongst evil. His aura was strong and vibrant, everything I wanted Vargr to be. So I took him and he gave me a princess, a she-wolf who would become powerful, a daughter who would right all Vargr's wrongs and save the people of Bhakhil.”

Azalea hugs him as the door opens. “Go back to the witches where you belong, Azalea,” Gwenael says from the doorway, “this alliance between the witches and werewolves is over, and Alaric has a job to do.” Alaric stands up in a blur of anger, pinning Gwenael roughly against the wall.

Arthur draws the gate as he steps out of it as he will about to take his trump card and to aid the third book and all after he will intertwine a holder in its equivalent to the current 2nd. “SHALL WE TAKE THIS NOW?”

He’d simply moved us forward in time. Lance and Lilith lay naked on a bed of furs. Standing over them was an old crone. She was dressed in a black woolen robe and was holding a smoking bundle of herbs. As she slowly passed the bundle over the length of their naked bodies, she uttered words that I couldn’t understand. “Ah. It seems your long lost love and his new wife wish to conceive a child,” he said in a taunting manner. “They have commissioned the aid of our dear Agatha. She is a good soldier of darkness. The child will be devilishly evil.”

The celebration was over. The enemies had been preparing themselves for invasion. Their main goal was to rule the whole Agartha, but before that, they needed to dispatched the chosen guardian first. For how many years of waiting, there are some creatures who realized that they no longer need a leader. Long time ago, when Agartha wasn’t destroyed. Every species was just contented to stay where they were. Unlike now, they wanted more, they wanted the things that was not meant for them to have.

- I told him. He nodded and pulled several books out from one of the stacks and set them in front of me. I opened the top book and ran my fingers over the runes in the title. It was beautifully written as if each word was drawn with love and attention to detail. Now that I looked at it, it reminded me of a combination of Norse and Old English. Nerrian pulled his chair closer and pointed to the first word, speaking it in my mind than out loud in Draygonian. With his help, I repeated the word over and over again until I perfected it.

we cleaned up the scattered fabric samples. "A nautical nursery," Arthur mused, holding up a swatch with tiny whales. "Do you think the baby will feel pressured to become a marine biologist?" "Better than feeling pressured to solve fictional compost murders," I retorted, folding a blanket. He pretended to be wounded. "My legacy is secure. Speaking of which..." He disappeared into his study and returned with a thick envelope. "It's finished." I stared at it. "The book?" "The book," he confirmed, placing it in my hands with a mixture of pride and terror. "The Compost Murders of Cedar Cove. Be gentle. Or don't. But be honest."