All Souls Book 6 Novels & Stories

His hands loosened from Trisha's pink cardigan before his head rammed into the cold, hard earth with so much force that he thought that his skull had cracked open like an egg's shell. He heard the ebbing footsteps of the Trisha and Wilkes as they continued for their lives. It was every person for himself—and herself and he couldn't blame them. Perhaps if they escape, they'll bring the school authorities to his corpse hidden hundreds of metres below and he'll get a befitting burial. He felt the shadows swarm all around him like bees feasting on honey which was in this case, thick, pulpy blood gushing out of his ear. “The long arm of the Goddess will always catch up with you,” the shadows bega

Zarek grabbed her hand, anchoring her, but her skin burned hot—unnaturally hot. "She's overheating—get her to the healer," Jon barked, already clearing the way. "No," Veyra rasped, shoving herself upright with trembling limbs. "It's him. He's here." Zarek's jaw clenched. "Who?" Veyra looked toward the still-screaming fissure, her eyes glowing white-hot. "The Sixth." Perfect. Here's Section 3 of Chapter 89 – The Sixth Breaks Through: The ground around the fissure pulsed like a wound, the soil bleeding black smoke that curled upward and clung to the trees like a living fog. The land itself groaned, an ancient sound that made even the bravest warriors clutch their weapons tighter.

Sarah gave birth to two children: Dante and Evelyn Vanslord. Jo nearly dropped the book. "So that arrogant prick," she muttered aloud, "is the Moon Goddess's direct descendant." She shook her head, dazed. "What awful luck to end up mated to me." But just as she turned the next page... It was missing. A ripped seam, an ugly tear right through the story. The next surviving words chilled her: "Doomsday. Deaths of thousands. Never meant to be." Before she could make sense of it... "You know that’s a forbidden book," came a voice from behind her.

"But the watcher needed me to finish the work. The sixth volume is almost done. The witnesses are strong. I can rest now." Mira took her hand. "We will miss you." Solenne squeezed her hand. "I will not be gone. I will be in the flowers. In the roots. In the watcher." --- The sixth volume was completed on the winter solstice. Solenne set the bound pages on the stone bench, her hands steady, her heart full. The book was thinner than the others, but its weight was greater. It contained the story of the garden after Kaelen's death—the years of Solenne's keepership, the spread of the gold flowers across the sea, the watcher's slow transformation into something ordinary and present.

His head throbbed, pulse quickened and blood flowed through each of his veins at the speed of light. His body was burning in fury just like the dry dead branches burned caught in the flaming fire. Burned till the monstrous flame extinguished at last satisfied by turning the branch into ashes.

Marybelle says, raising her wand and casting two spells—the first to make the bodies rapidly decompose, and the second to wipe the memories of any neighbors who just saw what happened. I want to go back inside for Sara's body, but I know that's foolish. There isn't time. There are probably more Silver Hunters on their way here now. They're like an infestation on the earth. You can take some out, but more always arrive. We hurry to the car, parked down the street. As we climb into it, I can feel the weight of Sara's death heavy on my shoulders. I glance at Davis, who is driving. His jaw is set, his hands gripping the wheel tightly. He's thinking the same thing I am: we need to find Winter.

"I knew you'd be fine!" I fixed a cold, steely gaze on him. "Are you disappointed that I'm not dead yet?" Miles let out a mocking chuckle, and the fake smile on his face twisted into something darker. "What exactly are you up to, Cassidy? Back then, we just thought that you—" "Yeah! You just thought that I was dead! Dare you tell everyone how I went through the surgery and nearly died?" I raised the microphone to my mouth and began recounting my encounters, from how I had my research findings stolen and the reason for my amnesia to how I had been forced to become a test subject for the artificial kidneys after they found me.

The both of them began walking to the staircase that led up, to the next floor, where Citadel K was. “So what other differences do you think there are?” Harold who had been studying a small-sized blonde who seemed to be crying in a corner turned to look at her. The student had the same stature as Derek, Harold remembered, but Derek had been a Enchanter. A wizard, precisely. There was no way this weeping student was related to Derek. “I didn't hear what you said,” he said, turning back to look at her. “What other differences do you think there are between the pup of an Alpha and a normal wolf?”

--- CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR NO SAINTS LEFT “Legacy isn’t made by saints. It’s written by survivors who outlive their guilt long enough to become myth.” Alessio stood on the upper balcony facing the courtyard, arms resting on the railing, coat hanging open, the dawn casting a faint gold over what was left of the estate. Beneath him, the stone was cracked, the walls scorched, the eastern garden reduced to black soil. The sky was the only thing untouched. Every breath tasted like ash, and not just from fire—but from memory. It had been six days since the vault sealed. Six days since Emilia’s death. Six days since the old monster beneath their house had swallowed the sins of a hundred years and quiet

The words seemed to leap off the page, filling the room with an eerie sense of foreboding. Everything written in the book didn't make any sense to either Stella or Morgan. They found everything in the book quite absurd. The book spoke of witches, dragons, angels, vampires, and the devil. They didn't believe in such a thing at all, weren't they just fantasy? If they were to interpret it, it only meant that Grandma Elizabeth was a witch while the stranger guy whom Stella had picked from the streets the previous night was the devil.