Alive Book Review Novels & Stories

--- ### The Iron Testimony I turned to the Arbiters, my voice dropping to a low, dangerous register. "You want to talk about efficiency? You want to talk about the 'Grand Design'? You’re nothing but cowards in fancy suits! You sit up here in your rings and judge us because we’re 'messy'? We’re messy because we’re **Alive**! You’re clean because you’re **Dead**!"

I avoided Marcus and went to the study. When I unlocked my phone, I found exactly what I expected—Mirabelle was livestreaming. In my previous life, she had done the same thing, sharing her "day in the life of a rich family's housekeeper" online. She even claimed she was going to follow the lady of the house and challenge herself to reverse aging in thirty days, going from 40 back to 20. At the time, her viewers were in stitches, flooding the chat with comments. "Ma'am, you'd have to be remade from scratch. If you can go back to 20 in 30 days, I can go back to kindergarten!"

Not even when her father was still alive and he had once indulged her love for exploration. She only just realised the magnitude of the people she was dealing with when they got to the Aslanov’s modern-ranch-styled mansion on an expanse piece of land. She realised that she should have thought of the fact that these people were a whole lot of big deal since the Island was named after their family. The team of doctors that had rushed to their side at the hospital and the fact that all the hospital personnel had treated her differently since that doctor mentioned Aslanov's name should have clued her in too. Though Serena was beginning to get just how influential these people were, it was when t

I turned to the back, where one of the later pages was blank except for a single phrase written in looping script: If you’re reading this, don’t trust the quiet forests. The book pulsed under my fingers. Just once. Like a heartbeat. I flinched slightly. Alaric noticed. “Abby?” “It… moved,” I whispered. “It’s alive.” Alaric didn’t look surprised. He exhaled slowly, pulling back just enough to meet my gaze. “Some relics are infused with living mana. Especially things connected to the Rift. It could be a minor spirit bound to the object.” My brows furrowed. “What should we do with it?”

A wolf which is an alpha. Kieran Drake didn’t⁠ just‌ comma‌nd‍ attentio⁠n he‌ marked territory. And me? I‍ had just stepped into‌ it. W⁠estbridge⁠ wasn’t just elite as I was told, It⁠ wasn’t j‌us‌t da‍ngerous. It w‌as alive and it was hunting. The bl‌a⁠ck card‌ from last night didn’t leave my m‍ind.

I think about the fact that I've documented our entire journey from the beginning to now. The first book was testimony. It was survival. It was what happened to me and how I survived it. The second book was healing. It was transformation. It was what we built from the survival. This book is what comes after. It's what it looks like to live in the life you've built. It's what it looks like to choose someone for so long that the choosing becomes invisible because it's so woven into who you are. The working title is simply: Always. Because that's the answer to the question. That's the response to the daily choosing. That's what love actually means when you understand it completely.

"You don't understand the biology you’re trying to own. You spent so much time looking for the 'strong' gene that you missed the one that survives the rot." Outside, the camp was a symphony of chaos. Shouts. Gunshots that hit nothing but mist. The wet, metallic sound of Richard tearing through reinforced plating. "Where is the Alpha?" Vance asked, her voice shaking. "Everywhere," I said. The tent wall behind her tore open. Richard’s chrome head pushed through the gap. He looked like a god of death. He didn't snarl. He just opened his mouth, and the silver sludge from the mercury-react dribbled onto the floor.

Chapter 48 The Werewolf Realm While Erin reunited with Kate, Zaki, and Kira on the other side of the territory, Levi and Micha remained in their shared study—facing the Living Book. It floated above the table, its ancient golden letters swirling across its surface like flowing fire. "Dearest reader… let us begin," the book hummed, its voice echoing softly through the room. Levi and Micha sat down opposite each other, bracing themselves. Every session with the Living Book revealed something darker than the last.

The cover of the third book was a silent declaration of victory. Where the previous ones had carried dark and uncertain tones, this one displayed a watercolor in golds and deep blues—colors that evoked sunrises over the ocean, promises kept, and horizons that had finally revealed themselves within reach. The title, engraved in handwritten letters like an intimate confession, was simple and revolutionary: “To Live.”

“You are not the kind of woman who does this. You are careful. You help people, you don’t… you don’t devour them in their bedrooms.” A traitorous voice, soft and dark whispered: 'But it felt like being alive for the first time.' I shook my head violently, as if to dislodge the thought. “No. It felt like a mistake. A dangerous, beautiful, catastrophic mistake.” I turned on the tap, splashing cold water on my face. The shock was bracing. I patted my skin dry with a rough towel, scrubbing a little too hard at the mark on my neck, though it didn’t fade. I couldn’t scrub away the memory.