Behind The Green Curtain Novels & Stories

“What are you planning to do with the liquid? How would it become the main plan to defeat our enemy?” Irina saw Lucas nodded. He supported how she would bring out the explanation. “Do you know why healer use the green morning?” Master Tobias replied. “Yes, to make the wounded one feel nothing.” “Exactly.” Said Irina which made the scholar frown. “You probably know that the hostile person behind this nightmare is my mother—” Some of the scholars gasped. Lucas added, since Irina know nothing about healing as she was new unbound witch. “—Based on the prescription in the book, the green morning is a powerful herb, one drop can help a healer doing a dissection without any pain.”

Even stranger, Maggie hadn’t even deleted the backup, as if she wanted us to see it on purpose. Suddenly, I remembered a glint of reflected light under the passenger seat after practice that day—something like a tiny lens. A chill crept up my spine. I realized then that this carefully designed trap had been laid long ago. But who was behind it? And why were they determined to push us into a corner like this?

The tiny seed unfolded slightly. A faint shoot emerged. Not silver. Not gold. Not blue. Green. The first true green Ama had ever seen. The color of growing things. The color of futures. The Gardener's eyes widened. “Well…” She laughed softly. “That hasn't happened before.” Ama stared at the tiny sprout. “What does green mean?” The Gardener slowly stood. For the first time since Ama had arrived. She looked both amazed... And humbled. “It means…” She paused.

… I woke up the next morning to find Jerry beside me in bed, watching the morning news. "Why'd you change your phone password?" he asked. It used to be his birthday, but since we were ending things, I went ahead and changed it. "I just felt like it." "Molly, didn't you keep begging to see the circus? Well, a troupe from the south is performing today." Since Alpha had given the order, I didn't have a choice but to go. We ended up in the VIP section, with Jerry and me leaning against each other, sharing snacks and watching the show. It was the kind of romantic moment I'd always imagined.

Ezra opened the door. The room beyond was smaller than the threshold room at Crescent, and somehow meaner for its restraint. The walls were pale green, and indirect light spilled from a cove around the ceiling. A narrow bench rested against one wall, too small for real sleep. A folded weighted blanket sat at one end. Behind a partial screen was a sink, with a narrow bathroom door hanging ajar beside it. On the opposite wall hung laminated visual cards. Breathe. Hands down. Sit. Listen. It’s all right.

“I said welcome to the Northern Territory! Hey, that's the code!" Phillip squinted at the vine, finding out whom Wiggy was talking to. Due to the dominating darkness, he caught only one figure that was surging and immediately spun something like a pulley several times. As soon as the pulley was turned, green tendrils opened wide like curtains, a light made of glowing mushrooms of various colors filled the whole place.

Not really. I should have been back at the dorm packing the last of my things. Ronan had asked if I wanted a hand, but I shook my head and told him I’d see him at the stables. We’d be going old-world, by enchanted carriage and spell-forged wheels, with a whole cloak-and-ward party to keep our entourage obscured. Nora didn’t do anything by halves. But first, I needed to say goodbye. The greenhouse stood before me, great and curved, its glass panes streaked with dew and the first faint touches of frost. I slipped inside and shut the door behind me with a quiet thud. It was warm, humid, throbbing with life.

The morning after the Icarus Protocol did not smell of ozone and burnt metal. It smelled of jasmine and damp earth. The "Green-Ghost" forest had fully reclaimed Sector 3, its vines weaving through the shattered windows of the Spire and turning the grand lobby into a cathedral of emerald light. The people of the Gutter were no longer huddled in the shadows; they were walking through the new woods, their hands stained with the juice of the golden fruit, their eyes bright with a terrifying, fragile hope.

Wordless, I nodded, curiosity piqued, a silent acceptance of his quiet invitation. He took my hand, his fingers intertwining with mine, a comfortable, familiar fit. He led me deeper into the sprawling greenhouse, past rows of exotic flora and bubbling hydroponic systems, until we reached the furthest back corner, hidden behind a thick curtain of tangled vines and overflowing potted plants. There, nestled amidst the lush overgrowth, barely visible, was a small, weathered wooden bench, surrounded by a cluster of night-blooming flowers, their delicate petals still unfurling in the filtered light, their perfume already beginning to permeate the air.

The man nods his head and opens the curtain to admit them in. “Let’s go see what that is,” Bree says with an excited quiver. I roll my eyes and follow behind Bree. As we come closer, the man moves his eyes, appraises us, and quirks a brow. “What may I do for you, ladies?” He asks with a soft melodic voice. Bree nudges her chin towards the man sending me a silent signal. Typical of Bree, she waits for me to say something. Leave it to Bree to make me do all the work. I give her my hardest glare and turn back to the man before I say in my most flirtatious voice. “What’s behind the curtain, handsome?” His mouth tilts up slightly. “I don’t think a lady of your sensibilities would appreciate what’