Book Chaos Theory Novels & Stories

Otherwise its just pointless. Its not pointless, Chi said. You do die for a reason. Just not so simple a reason. You cant expect to understand it all at once. She grunted in frustration and banged her fist against the side of the wardrobe. I can see what youre all jacked up about, Chi said finally. You went three-D and you think you unlocked the secret of your universe. But its not always that neat and easy. Expect chaos. Embrace chaos. You should still try to learn as much as you can from every life you visit. Maybe in the end, itll all add up to something. Maybe youll end up with Noah . . . or maybe youll decide theres more to life than--

"That is exactly one of the reasons why I decided to have a meeting with you. I have a lot to learn from you. I have never heard of Chaos theory. Enlighten me!" "Ah! Well, basically it was discovered some decades ago that there are some things that are both completely unpredictable and completely predictable at the same time. For example, the details might be unpredictably random while forming a pattern that is exactly the same every time. Chaos Theory is the branch of mathematics that was developed to handle such things. And no, I am not a mathematician and so I have no idea how it works. But it turns out that this predictable/unpredictable thing is one of several interesting special featur

“There are wounds that never show on the body that is deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds”—Laurell K Hamilton, Mistrial’s Kiss Chaos’s P.O.V I lay in bed conscious to everything around me yet not so conscious. I was in a half comatose state and I could feel myself changing. Even I, am afraid of what the end result might be. It was a battle of wills that I lost the moment I found out that my mate was cheating on me.

A time when all was as simple as A, B, C. I think back to one of my lessons with Evander. He had taught me the theory of the butterfly effect, he taught me of what I have come to experience. This place...this is where it all began. The little butterfly that now is two universes colliding, ruining, chaos traced, the little butterfly that now has altered my life.

Terror explained, “It is a bit weird that there are so many dots at that one location.” “Each of these dots can’t represents an origin, there are too many of them scattered around.” “Maybe each dot marks the presence of a Regis’ influence?” Terror guessed “And I’m up against all of this?” Nya wondered, looking at the hundreds of different colored dots, “Quite the daunting task ahead of me.” “So what do we do now?” “I have an idea…” Nya started as she typed in a string of coordinates that found their way into her head. The display zoomed to one corner of the map

SACHA RETURNED to her bedroom in the mansion. She had been so happy to be there, but that was this morning, before she was told the true reason for her promotion from the stables. Her parents died when she was young and she was taken in by the Herbalist her mother’s friend. She learned how to make healing remedies from plants and loved it. She wanted to be the Herbalist appointed to the mansion. The only job she managed to get so far was at the stables. She was not discouraged. She loved horses and even horses got hurt. She could show her skill and care there until she was recognised.

Leaving peace and stepping into war. As he looked about the two-room shack, he scratched his head in wonder. Thirty years of stacking things here and there, how would he ever find all he needs in this mess? Bookshelves, counters, and tables were covered with open books strewn about. Pages of parchment, some rolled up nice and neat while others lay scattered here and there, blew in the light breeze. There was so much knowledge and research just lying about how would he condense into one small pack, plus food, water, and a bedroll.

They’d done it under his nose. His fists trembled. The last time Rosewood magic had been used unchecked, it had torn through the North like wildfire. Packs had turned against packs. Kings had fallen. Blood soaked the rivers. It had taken three generations to bury the truth. Now, something—or someone—was stirring again. And for the first time in centuries, the silence of the white wolves was broken. He turned sharply, boots crunching against the frost-bitten stone, and called over his shoulder. “Cassian.”