Novel & Cerita Bioshock Books

Ahead, a yawning crack that had opened earlier between aisles—an ink‑filled void we’d been skirting around—began to close. Stone blocks rose out of the darkness one by one, like steps in an invisible staircase, locking together. Words bloomed across them as they surfaced: BRIDGE, SAFE, HOLD. Each block thudded into place with the finality of a period. The floor stitched itself into a path. A screen shard from the Admin’s body spun down, angling straight for Corvin’s head. Before I could move, the nearest shelf lurched sideways just enough that the glass hit wood instead, burying itself in a copy of NEON GRAVE CITY—HAZARD SUBROUTINES The book took the blow and burned from the inside, its text

Some titles seemed interesting to him, like ‘How to kill and skin a sand wurm by JJ Rulus’ or ‘The spirit realm unmasked by Sir Tapnes’ and some made him shiver at the thought of their contents, such as ‘A look inside of fae anatomy by Priest Daphne’ and ‘Histories of demonic possession that nearly ended existence by Krun. He had already finished two rows and had started on the third when a slight whispering in his ear broke his concentration, “You must kill.” “What the..?” Rex said out aloud, looking left and right, searching for the person who had made the sound, not being able to see anyone, he followed where he thought the whispering from coming from, rounding the end of the large booksh

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Oblivion took hold of me, and a chamber of ice encased my swollen heart. ** The story continues in Book 2: The Bloodstone Vampire. Out December 1st 2020. Thank you for reading SRWW – I hope you’ve enjoyed it as much as I have!**

“They were out too far…for a reason. “Rodin says. Slowly, Rodin lifts his fingertips from the puddle. The blood drips back into the pool. The blood is thick almost like sludge and smells like rotten meat when it's cooked. Rodin flings the blood on the teal grass which cleans the shine on his armor. Rodin stands and he starts to walk to the tent with the flag. Varick looks over the pile. On his side is a satchel, he reaches in this compartment to pull out a book. The book’s title: “Book of The Blight.” Carefully, he sets his wolf helm down on a clean spot among the forest. The plate head sparks with pink electricity, causing the headpiece to slightly hover along with the grassy blade tips. Va

Please feel free to check out my other books below. Other works: • The Pleasure Directive • Encore with the Devil • Bloodscript: Survival Game of the Reborn • Rejected Omega Princess: Meet My Overprotective Brothers • Killed and Reborn: My Alpha’s Obsession • His Luna Returns, So I Left with His Baby > Please add this book to your library and leave a review if you’re enjoying it 💖

A half-smoked cigarette dangled between my fingers, the glow between my curled, stiff fingers the only warmth in the dimly lit sala. I took another long drag, letting the smoke sear into my lungs before slowly blowing it out. My head was a battle zone, images of deception flashing like gunfire: Victor and his sneer, poisoned wine, and the audacity of men who believed they were more clever than me—better or more worthy of what I’d earned in blood and steel. The business world was a more deadly version of an unloaded pistol with the safety off. Deals sealed with a handshake could explode like grenades. Survival was more than just pulling a trigger; it meant knowing when to pull it, who to aim

“Any progress?” He scratched the back of his head, coming towards me. “The combination of runes and potions is difficult to understand because we haven’t faced it before but thankfully…” He pulled out the Book of the Undead—a shiver tingling my spine on sighting it—and opened it to the blank page… except it wasn’t so much of a blank page anymore. Faded, undetectable words, were displaying it and my heart leaped. “…you have me.” “How long will it take?” My head was spinning and I had to hold the table down to not fall.

"Just making sure." That evening, for the first time since the hospital, I walked up to my own bedroom. I wanted him to see the real me — not Arga's high school time capsule down the hall. Nikau drifted to my massive bookshelf, fingers skimming spines — Harry Potter crammed against Nietzsche, Murakami flanking local literature. On the top shelf, two political biographies still sealed in shrink-wrap. "Haven't opened these ones," he noted, tilting one up.

Indeed, as she looked at them now, she almost felt as if vampires would rise from each one of them. But as she walked, what really struck her was the floor. There, in the distance, was a series of shapes, protruding from the floor. As she got close, she could see that it was a cluster of tombs, embedded in the floor, marble shapes of human beings, supine, rising up from the floor itself. It was as if the floor were a living graveyard, as if these bodies were getting ready to rise. She thought of the sarcophagi in the cloisters in New York, and she felt certain that this was a sacred place for vampires. She sensed an energy coming off of one of them, and she leaned in close, and read the insc