Amare Frost Age Novels & Stories

"Not until you understand that the man who rejected you seven years ago doesn't exist anymore. And not until you give me the chance to prove it." As Raven turned to walk away, her phone buzzed with a message from an unknown number. A video file, timestamp showing it was taken that morning. When she opened it with trembling hands, she watched footage of herself in her apartment—sleeping, unaware, completely vulnerable. Multiple camera angles. Professional equipment. The video's final frame showed a message in white text: "Come to the Cascade Mountains. Come alone. Or I'll burn every connection you've ever made. —D"

“Yh, I did. Didn’t finish though. Now quit being funny and help me.” He climbed down slowly, gracefully, like everything he did. Then, without asking, he slid down to sit on the floor next to me. Close enough that I caught the faint scent of whatever soap he got from the infirmary. He eyed me like I was a lost cause, but there was something softer in it. “How old is Amara, to begin with?” he asked, already pulling a sheet toward him. “Two,” I said, and just the number pulled me somewhere else—the image of her small hands clinging to mine the last time I visited her in the foster home. The way she sounded too smart for her little body.

Frost’s whereabouts. Once she was with him, she complained about them first. “Brother, is the professor still dependable? He said that the disciple of his is some sort of a doctor, but all I see is a pregnant woman in her early twenties! She doesn’t look like a professional at all!” “Really?” Mr. Frost’s heart became cold. All this while, he was worried sick for his son’s ears. He had even contacted the professor last year to ask if he had any new treatment, but the professor said he didn’t.

No one witnessed the cruelty that Frost had to experience, only the moon. When Frost was locked inside the dark room. Frost was so scared. She was only 5 years old at that time. But when she saw a glimpse of the light that was coming from a small window of that dark room. She suddenly found hope. She, without delay, went directly to that small window. And there, she saw the dazzling moon in the sky. At that time, Frost was in awe. Her pair of clear eyes filled with admiration and a hint of childishness. She spent her time staring at the moon until it was no longer there.

He began, taking a sip from his wine and then, proceeded to answer. “Amara is a very sweet and intelligent child, who’s also very caring, but she does have a bad temper, though, and a sharp tongue. I remember when she was only 15 years old, a friend of hers came over and the poor girl couldn’t get a word out with her around.

The old woman’s eyes set on me with resentment—maybe even pride. “Guess how old I am,” she said. I blinked at her. “I suppose…maybe fifty?” “Forty.” Her tone was sharp and flat, darkened by years of disdain. “This is what our blood does. It burns fast…a curse we carry. A price for what makes us so special. We age quickly—especially under sunlight. Under heat.” I noted the freezing temperatures of the room. Was the cold meant to preserve Amara’s age? I thought back to the wizard I’d met before. “The wizard I knew wasn’t very old,” I said.

she asked and Adrian nodded in affirmation. “And Arthur was already alive at that time, wasn’t he?” she probed. “Yes,” Adrian answered and he watched in surprise at how the colour drained from Amelia’s face. “How old are you guys?” Amelia asked curiously. “How old do you think we are?” Adrian asked with a mischievous smile on his face. “Well the internet says that you're thirty, Arthur is thirty two while Lance is twenty five,” Amelia stated. “Did you see those little children at the packhouse?” Adrian asked.

the other brother steps forward at the mention of his name. "Where are you from, Amaris?" Zach asks as he slowly closes the distance between us, the other two flanking him. "Umm…" I say, biting my bottom lip. "I grew up in foster care," I mutter with a sad shrug. "So, I guess you could say that I'm kind of from everywhere and nowhere at the same time," I tell them, a pang of sadness hitting me when my brother's face flashes through my mind. I could tell them that I'm from Northport, but I'm not ready to answer why I'm not a part of their pack.

You're gonna be fine. Iesha(Sis)?: Don't worry too much big brother. I will be the third person on the stage after a gay stripper. I'm really sexy. My stage name is Frostie. Lol. Keyanna ‹Big Sister›❤: What kinda name is Frostie, Iesha? Iesha(Sis)?: When we buy frosty at McDonald's, it's sweet and makes my teeth hurt. So that's why I chose the name. Gotta go, wish me luck.

“We have to thank him for taking care of our beloved daughter. Meet us with him, Amora!” Amora stammered. “I… I'm not sure he has the time. He's been very busy lately." Mrs. Petri nodded firmly. "Does not matter. We will wait. Oh, what's his name? We should at least know the name of our daughter's savior." “Liam Frost,” said Amora. "That's his name." Mrs. and Mr. Petri looked at each other, frowning. “Liam Frost?” Amora nodded. "Yes. He is a very good man.”