Crack Of Dawn Novels & Stories

"It will take a lot of focus, and that's where the twist is." I announced. "What twist?" He stopped us. "We have moved quite deep into the cave and if there is a total black out without lights, we will release the crackens." I announced. "That sounds bad. What are crackens?" He asked me. "Let's just say that they are giant flesh eating insects that thrives in the dark and senses fear as their sense of mobility. They can't see but they are triggered to move towards your fear." I said. "Well, that's simple then. We do not need to off the torch. You will just cast the spell then."

Metal crunched. Then—darkness. ---

*Crack* A small crack appeared in space, just a little over a meter away from Mane’s position, and a pair of hands escaped that crack. Those hands were wrinkly and worn, but they commanded great authority. For when they showed themselves, they held on to the two sides of the crack with the power of one who knew no equal and stretched the gap even wider. And the crack opened up into a portal. Mane could sense, to his horror, the approach of the one to whom those hands belonged – the Origin King.

THE CRACK Damian saw the opening. The Architect was distracted, clawing at the burning matter on his chest. Damian ran. He used the shattered terrain as a ramp. He launched himself into the air. He raised the Hammer. The Architect looked up. "NO." Damian came down like a meteor. He aimed for the crack in the Architect’s chest the spot where the molten mud was burning through the armor. CRACK. The Hammer hit the weak point. It wasn't just a physical blow. It was a conceptual one. The Ancient Weapon made to

We limped back towards the pack house like we'd just wrestled a grizzly bear with a bad case of road rage. Dawn was cracking over the horizon, painting the sky in bruised oranges and purples. Brock sported a fresh souvenir – a nasty gash on his arm that was turning his fur a concerning shade of crimson. "That was…" Brock wheezed, leaning on me for support like a furry leaning tower of Pisa. "An experience, to say the least."

There was a crack, a heavy thud. Then darkness.

Dex’s questions bring the familiar pain back to my chest, and I pop one eye open, glancing towards him before I close it back and cross my arms over my chest, getting out a, "Soon." Soon. It’s the word I keep telling myself, trying to hold on to the promise he made three weeks ago in the silence of the night on his bed. His words were filled with so much sincerity that I didn’t doubt them–I still don’t. But I’m starting to question how long is his soon.

he asks without looking at me “What did you get from Cristal?...” He sighs and begins without looking at me. “The little I got is that the bitch came to the city a little over 6 months ago, she has been cajoling rich men, she fucks them, takes money from them and then disappears, so I guess you are one more on her list...” he says leaving Carefully down the barrel of the rifle and noticing me, he leans back on the chair and puts his feet up on the chair.

the subordinate replied. Crack! Nameless froze. He gritted his teeth so hard, he cracked one of his yellow teeth.

It arrived on a Tuesday evening six days after the Thursday conversation and I did not see it coming. That was the thing about the crack — not a sudden break, not a dramatic fracture. A crack. The kind that started small and was easy to miss if you were not looking at the right angle in the right light, and by the time you noticed it the damage was already done. It started with a phone call Dante took in the study at eight in the evening.