Dark Tower Novel Novels & Stories

Lucifer let out a low, menacing laugh, the sound reverberating in the room like the thunder before a storm. "You were never meant to be like them, Lucian. You have always been mine, whether you accept it or not. The darkness will always call to you. Remember, you tortured them and killed them most cruelly. How can you say you're not like me? Remember Lucas and Ben...?" Lucian's heart raced against his chest. A sudden surge of energy coursed through him as if the shadows were trying to drag him into their depths, pulling him away from everything he knew. He felt his strength waver, the force of the shadows overwhelming him, and his heart grew darker.

Through the darkness, I could hear voices—distant wails followed by mocking laughter somewhere off in the distance. I rush back into the room, my breath coming out harshly. Wrath smirked from his position on the bed and I turned my horrified eyes on him. "This isn't Los Angeles. Where the hell am I?" "You just said it." My eyebrows furrow "W-What?" "Welcome to Hell, Dovey." He grinned happily while my mind threatened to combust. No, no. It can't be... It doesn't make any sense. My heart stopped as something occurred to me.

" Understood eight twelve, reinforcement is already on the way." A child's birthday, oh god. Proles, these genetically engineered animals were monsters and Maddox had already seen with his own eyes what these beasts could do. He didn't want to imagine what she would be waiting for at her destination. But he would find out, because he was Venator, a state-approved hunter whose job it was to get the prole plague under control.

If she deceived herself into thinking this would all disappear, she could keep a level head, but being at headquarters would leave no room for illusions. Victor held a large cup before her, hoping she would take it, "Got you a milkshake." "Oh, thanks. This doesn't let you off the hook." He pouted, mumbling under his breath as he sped off. *** They pulled up to a gated fence with a sign that read Costa Manufacturing Co., along with others warning of trespassers and private property. The fence looked to cover the entirety of the perimeter as they drove inside. In the center of the property stood an enormous tower that looked like an ordinary office building, its shiny windows setting off multi

Nothing happened, though, and relief instantly filled me. Every other time as soon as ink had gotten onto the page, I would be transported into the book. However, this time nothing happened, which might be because I hadn’t used the quill since the ink just spilled. No longer frozen, I recalled the knock on the door and rose from my desk. I was about to take a step when suddenly my living room dissolved into inky blackness. An inky blackness that had only been in a couple of times when the three musketeers of assholes paused my story. Which means I was in my book, 1001 Dark Tales. I instantly started praying that for once those three weren’t in the books with me. In the next second, I realize

He couldn’t wait to get her naked and finish this damn ritual, he was glad that Nick wasn’t able to mate with her, it would make it that much easier for her to become darker faster, and it would be easier for her to not resist the darker side of things. Drake had to wait three more days to mate with her, he would take this time to get her walls down and get her to trust him. Once she trusted him, she would latch on him, and it would be over for Nick. There would be no room for him. She wouldn’t want to go back to him, she wouldn’t need the Light Dwellers, and then the Shadow Dwellers would be done and the world would be plagued with darkness and there would be nothing good left in the world.

His eyes were pools of absolute darkness, his sclera was as black as the darkest night, but in the center of that darkness was a point of purple light shining in total darkness. The one on the throne was Zark Ar Zatho, the Dungeon Master and overlord of Damenburg Castle.

I’ve gagged him too—can’t have him yelling and attracting attention. The man’s stocky frame made it hard to carry him, but I managed, dragging him into the decrepit building that Asher uses for situations like this. The kill house is the definition of desolate. It’s a crumbling one-story structure in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by rusted metal fences and patches of overgrown grass. The paint on the walls has peeled away, revealing uneven concrete stained with only God-knows-what.

When the wind swept through the towers and around the towering spire, it produced a low, mournful howl that echoed across the fortress, making the castle feel less like a royal residence and more like an ancient, haunted mansion. Estelle stepped forward. Her hair danced violently behind her. She turned towards the side, and saw the entire city stretched beneath them. It looked peaceful as other times. But Estelle knew that may change tonight. The wind howled across the obsidian rooftops, carrying carrying an almost imperceptible scent. Darnon's expression changed drastically. His relaxed posture vanished, his brows knit into a tight frown. Every trace of nonchalance disappeared from his face