Black Marble With Gold Veins Novels & Stories

For the past centuries, Soles from either sides hadn't found the Vermilion yet. This Vermilion was the one power that could stop the other. This was the reason as to why the world had still been experiencing two opposing forces; light and dark, good and evil. Because no one had succeeded in finding the power source Vermilion yet. This was the reason why the Vermilion was so important to be found and be kept, especially by the Ibawnons, so as to maintain the balance of the world. For if the Malignobons would have it, nothing but darkness and chaos would surely be spread to the whole world.

The first stone he dealt with was the low-energy stone. Layer by layer fell, Arial was extremely careful and skillful, and his movements were rhythmic as if he was afraid to cut into the "gem" inside. When Arial shaves the stone to the size of a thumb, the core inside will appear. It is a light blue color, with a clear white part.

Ambrose smiled, "Ready?" Sephora took a deep breath, her nerves doing somersaults in her stomach. "Yeah." She breathed, not feeling ready at all. Ambrose walked her to a strange door at the side of the throne room. Where most of the others had been black obsidian stone, this stone door was translucent, and was almost identical to the stone wall Ambrose had put before the veil. Sephora glanced up at Ambrose, who seemed to notice her recognition of the stone. "Adamant stone." He nodded at the door. "Or diamond, as the humans call it. Unbreakable." "What's behind it?" Sephora queried. Ambrose gave a mischievous grin.

The guard lets out a grunt and waves us through, and Ellie pulls me as they step aside so we can enter the castle. And here, all my breath is caught in my lungs again. The main hallway—if it could be called something so simple and plain—is solid marble, emblazoned with more gemstones than I even imagined existed in the whole world. The wall’s marble is a shade of light gray, with dark black veining that is simply elegant. Inlaid into it are the gemstones of every color, shimmering in the light of the massive chandeliers above. The floor is of bright white marble with crystal clear veining that makes the whole thing glisten, with bright, clean carpet runners in the kingdom’s official shade: r

Caelum had steeled himself for brutality. He'd prepared for screaming stone and rusted chains, for the stench of despair made manifest in mortar and bone. The vampires, it seemed, preferred subtlety. The corridors they descended were carved from black marble that seemed to drink light rather than reflect it. Each wall bore veins of silver that pulsed with their own rhythm, as if the stone itself possessed a heartbeat. No screams echoed here—the acoustics had been engineered for silence, every angle calculated to swallow sound before it could carry.

The next morning, Jamie woke up and did as the old woman asked. She looked into the embers of the fire and saw a bead the size of a large marble. It was completely black, but when held up to the light, intricate spirals of oranges, yellows, purples, and reds could be seen. There were also two holes going through the middle, so a string or chain could be put on it.

Please. *Answer me.* The Scorchmark *cracked.* Not breaking. *Opening.* A seam appeared in the black glass. Widening. And from within— *Light.* Not silver. Not red. *Both.* Intertwined. Spiraling. *Beautiful.* The light surged upward. Coalesced. And when it faded— A blade remained. Hovering above the crack. Waiting. It was *magnificent.* The metal was dark—almost black—but traced with veins of silver and crimson that pulsed like a heartbeat.

He prays that he doesn’t tremble; the dog is watching his every move. “By all means.” The man reaches inside his long leather overcoat, producing a golden ring which he places in Marenbach’s palm. “It was my father’s,” he adds, becoming slightly hoarse. Marenbach turns the ring over and over, examining it in the dim light. It’s pure gold, of that much he is sure. But the stone is a puzzle. An intaglio square of amber brown, yet nearly transparent. A variety of quartz. Carnelian perhaps.

Still I forced myself to smile at the attendant, returning the charming smile he flashed at us as he raised a black lever and ushered us in. Inside, the grandeur turned darker. The walls were made of black marble, a sharp contrast to the white outside. While the exterior white walls whisper opulence and purity, the walls inside craved darkness and spoke volumes of secret. There were thin lines of gold that looked like veins running with no particular order across the walls, catching and reflecting the lights from the chandeliers overhead.

The vampire led them down a shadowed corridor, where the walls shifted to polished black marble veined in crimson. The double doors at the end were tall—arched, lacquered black, and inlaid with intricate silver filigree. When they opened, the room beyond whispered of old wealth and older power.