Dead Mountain Book Novels & Stories

We took the mountain railway down in a car filled with early morning skiers people whose lives were measured in the slope of the snow and the heat of their coffee, entirely unaware that the foundations of their digital reality had just been dissolved and re-cast three thousand feet above their heads. ​Damian sat across from me, his hands resting on his knees. He looked older, the lines around his eyes etched by more than just the mountain wind. He was no longer the "Ice King" of Manhattan; he was a man who had seen the end of the world and decided to walk back into it.

"The mountain stopped breathing. Why is it so quiet?" I knelt in the ash, my gold-veined arm dragging with a heavy thud. I cupped the back of his head. His hair smelled of ozone and the basement we never truly escaped. "The mountain is waiting, Leo," I rasped, my throat feeling like it had been scoured with shards of flint. "Waiting to see who survives the dawn." I stood up as the wolves began to crest the ridge.

Symbols in a language I barely understood. “What is that?” I asked. His eyes darkened. “The Snowy Mountains of the Dead.” Dominic blinked. “Charming name.” “It’s the fastest way into Nytherra,” Sylvester said, pointing to a crevice snaking through the frozen peaks. “It cuts the journey from seven days to three. But…” “But what?” I asked. “The mountains don’t just kill with cold,” he replied. “They remember. They echo. Every fear, every failure, every ghost you carry you’ll see them. Live them. If you enter that pass unprepared, it will tear you apart from the inside.”

He had a way of making decisions without ever needing to speak them aloud, as if he could sense the right path before it even appeared. I nodded, gripping the edge of my seat as the vehicle bounced over uneven terrain. The tension in the air was palpable. I knew we were walking into a hot zone, and I didn’t know how bad it was going to be. I wasn’t used to seeing people—human beings—turn into mindless, rotting monsters, but in this new world, that’s exactly what I had to witness every day. It was hard not to feel like we were losing something with every encounter.

I nod approvingly. I mostly do want to get the fuck out of here, but my heart can’t leave until I know he’s dead. I sigh and strike a match, lighting the whole pack on fire and dropping it inside. His eyes go wide with the realization he’s about to really and truly die. That fear on his face is priceless to me. I never dreamed I’d get this chance. I’ve always assumed I’d be stuck with the memory of him attacking me and never have closure. The fear would plague me for the rest of my life, even now that I have a mate.

They couldn't understand why they had chosen to neglect their own flesh and blood for the sake of a stranger's child. There wasn't a trace of satisfaction in my heart, only a bottomless void. What was the point of receiving the love I had desperately yearned for but never received while I was alive, now that I was dead? … Quinn lost her marbles. Unable to cope with the reality of the horrific things she had done, she spent every day in an asylum, calling out my name. I returned to that small mountain village, the place where I had once endured endless humiliation. The dilapidated mud houses, the filthy bedding… everything felt like a nightmare.

The Dead Zone did not live up to its name. If anything, it was too alive—just not with anything human. Deep beneath the crystalline beauty of the Sanctuary, the mountain’s belly was a humid, suffocating labyrinth of volcanic glass and steaming vents. The air was a toxic cocktail of sulfur and ammonia that scorched the lungs. Here, the violet light of the Starfall had mutated, turning into a sickly, radioactive yellow that pulsed within the veins of the rock like a fever.

"You'll say anything, won't you? "And on top of that, Scarlett was busy working. You're trying to pin this on her? "Are you even human?" Seth chimed in as well. "Exactly. We don't even know if this person actually died or not, and yet he's pulling this stunt to scare everyone."

The sun was setting, the river glittering below. I took out my backup phone and started recording a voice memo. "My name is Aria Sterling. If you are hearing this, it means I'm dead." "Six years ago, Axel Thorne didn't die. The yacht explosion was a carefully planned hoax..." I told them everything. Axel's betrayal. Seraphina's poison. How they destroyed my life, piece by piece. When the recording was done, I set it to send on a timer. Then I walked slowly to the edge of the bridge.

Not even birds. At dusk, we reached the scorched ridge where the last eruption had cracked the earth. Lava still ran in thin red rivers along the mountain’s side, glowing against the stormy sky. The heat kissed our skin like the breath of a dragon. We set camp just below the ledge. The knights formed a perimeter while Norma and I began unpacking rations and magical supplies. Damian watched the mountain like a hawk. “You felt it, didn’t you?” I said as I handed him a flask of water. “That the summoning shook this place.”