Bleeding Edge Novel Novels & Stories

The "Hard Reset" was a wall of white light that moved with the speed of an editor’s eraser. In the Author’s Study, the infinite bookshelves began to "Bleach," the titles of a thousand "Norths" vanishing into the grey static. The Author himself was unravelling, his "Ink Black" eyes turning into two hollow voids of "Cancelled Narrative."

"Never... never do that again. I felt your entire third-grade humiliation regarding a failed levitation spell. I didn't need to know about that." "Shut up," Thalen panted, rolling onto his back beside him, his chest heaving as he stared up at the vaulted ceiling of the dark, book-lined study. He raised a trembling hand, wiping a thin streak of nosebleed from his upper lip, though a wild, hysterical edge of triumph cracked his usual aristocratic coldness. "We got through. The blood-gate didn't incinerate us. It registered us as a single entity." "A single, deeply traumatized entity," Zeyric muttered, finally pushing himself up onto his elbows and looking around the dark, oppressive room.

“Let’s go.” --- At the Edge of the Unknown The closer they got, the worse it felt. Energy curled in the air, too familiar. It wasn’t as strong as the original Rift, but it carried that same unsettling hum. Mira muttered, “This is a bad idea.” Dorian gave her a look. “You say that like it’ll change anything.” As they reached the edge of the new fissure, Lena stepped forward cautiously. The ground here was scorched, as if something had erupted from beneath.

The skin on my neck was burning, and my eyes felt like someone had rubbed dry sand under the eyelids. ​Outside my window, the heavy oak steps leading up from the courtyard had fallen quiet ten minutes ago. The footfalls had ceased, but the heavy, suffocating weight of being hunted hadn't lifted. I was sitting on the floor behind my desk, my knees pulled up to my chest, my laptop resting directly on my shins so the heat of the cooling fan bled through my jeans. ​I was running on adrenaline, three-day-old espresso, and the terrifying, sharp edge of desperation.

The sting of tears burned the back of her eyes, and a lump lodged in her throat. To her utter horror and humiliation, she saw Sébastien’s eyes narrow on her face. He came closer, and she feared even moving in case she shattered and fell apart. “What is it, Cassandra? What’s wrong? You seem… edgy.” She shook her head and laughed a bitter laugh. Was he for real right now? “Edgy…?” She’d been on a knife-edge ever since she’d laid eyes on him. Sébastien was standing so close she could smell him. Cassandra tried to control her emotions, but he came closer and the air seemed to swirl headily around them.

Henna will be mad if she has to buy me new books already. This stupid shade over my head is doing less to nothing to protect me from the rain. It's started to get really cold now. The wind is blowing ghastly almost, it seems like it must be storming in some places. Glad it's not happening here. I wouldn't like the idea of getting washed away from the earth with the harsh wind as much as Gabriel would like that. I have to admit though, I really like storms, I don't know why but It gives me inner peace, makes me all giddy for some unknown reason.

Legends of the End Times. Okay. A little on the nose. She pulled it out. The book snapped open like it had been waiting for her. Pages fluttered violently — way too violently for the still air. Most were gone. Torn out. Clean edges, not ragged. Deliberate. Only one page remained. Scrawled in handwriting that wasn't printed: She will bloom when all else dies. Aria stared. The ink bled at the edges. Not like water damage. Like tears.

Seraphina’s POV. Since the moon rose high, its fading light cast a luminescent on the blood-stained ground. There was blood and metal in the air; there was acrid smoke from the war. While at the edge of the emergence, my heart raced in me, adrenaline running free through my veins. The fight had left me with bruises on my body, but the sound of silence caused hair to fly down my neck. Luckily, I was not really hurt. I had a feeling that something was seems odd.

I’m really happy with this extra material. When i arrive at the edge of the forest, i smelled a blood smell. There’s a sound of weapon clashing and someone shouthing. I then moving faster and gave a look toward the clashing party. With a nonchalant attitude i just moving toward them, ignoring the crowd. From what i saw the two are bandit vs some noble. A cliche developement as i saw.

It was a journal - but whose? "Open it," The Shadow urged. "You'll find all the answers you seek within its pages." Celess hesitated for a moment before flipping open the book. What she saw inside made her blood run cold. It was her father's journal. Celess's heart raced as she flipped through the pages of her father's journal. Memories flooded back to her as she read about her father's struggles with being a vampire, his innermost thoughts and feelings about their kind and their place in the world.