Novel & Cerita Deadfall Book

Their expression was calm but tinged with urgency. “You’ve come far,” the stranger said, their voice layered with echoes that reverberated through the very fabric of the room. “But your journey is far from over.” “I’m tired of riddles,” Jessica shot back, her voice rising slightly. “Tell me what I need to do.” The stranger tilted their head slightly, as though considering the question. “Do? There’s nothing left to do. Only to decide.” Before she could respond, the books began to fall from the shelves, each landing open at her feet. Pages flipped rapidly, revealing fragments of lives lived and lost, choices made and undone. Some showed moments of triumph; others depicted failures so profound

Guerrian tried to reach out to hold my hand, but Azena slapped it away. He staggered a few steps back, almost falling over. Azena sneered. "You call yourself the God of War? It's just an empty title." Before he could say anything, Fytar entered with an imperial decree from our father. "Guerrian, Dexaldir. For failing to judge character, misusing authority, disrespecting others, and disregarding celestial law, you are sentenced to three hundred years of confinement in the Lake of Dissolution. "If you resist, your divine bones will be destroyed, and you will be cast from the Starfall Spire."

The bodies that remained seemed to flicker, the color draining from their skin, their eyes hollowing as their names slipped from their tongues. Then the dust pulled downward, then up, a cyclone of red ash and broken bone, a silent howl that twisted through the Cradle and across the Expanse. The crowd shrank back, the bravest among them trembling, the less brave falling to their knees in terror. Sirelia stood untouched at the storm’s eye, her eyes unblinking. The winds called her name—not with love or loyalty, but with recognition. This was the Dustfall. A curse written in the first flame scrolls, never invoked—not for its strength, but its nature. It did not merely destroy. It unmade. Time b

~Grayson I bump into another servant and rush out an apology before they can retaliate. Without bothering to check if they are alright, I continue my journey to Renata's room. This is the fifth servant I've bumped into this night in my attempt to get to Renata. Maybe I wouldn't keep bumping into servants if they weren't present at almost every corner of the house. Sometimes it is hard to comprehend why anyone would need so many helpers. It isn't a wonder why Zoe and Phil grew up to be such spoilt brats. They probably never raised a finger to do a single thing in their lives.

Fallon has given me renewed purpose, a future. And honestly, I can’t wait. THE END ** WANT MORE OF THE SIX-PACK SERIES? BOOK TWO IS NOW AVAILABLE: ALPHA THEO **

Chapter 16 The Descent of Noir The sensation of falling was not the chaotic, terrifying plunge Laila had expected. Instead, it was a moment of crystalline clarity. The air, freezing and thin at this altitude, whipped against her skin, but the heat radiating from within her kept the cold at bay. She was a silver streak against the velvet black of the night, a fallen star with the heart of a predator. Below her, the canopy of the ancient forest rushed up like a dark, rolling sea, the pine needles looking like thousands of tiny daggers waiting to catch her.

"Kyaah!" To my great surprise and shock, I stumbled backward, my foot losing its balance, causing me to lose my footing. I ended up sitting clumsily on the floor, and the three heavy books I was carrying slipped from my grasp, scattering across the floorboards with loud thuds that echoed through the empty corridor. "You okay there?" I shifted my gaze upward towards the person standing over me the moment I heard that familiar, calm voice. Of course. It was Eros.

I sobbed, tears flowing, my shoulders shaking in sync with the trees. *********** TWO DAYS LATER Wrapped in a large blanket with a cup of hot cocoa in hand, I sat silently in Dashiell's private jet, staring blankly as the clouds drifted by. Gotham and Adela were across from me, their heads buried in a newspaper. The bold headlines stretched across the front page read, "The fall of the Most Notorious," "Notorious," I muttered, a bitter chuckle escaping my lips as my eyes drifted back to the swirling steam of my Cocoa, how it rose and disappeared in the air.

In some cases, she just scanned the spines, when visible. After another hour or so, Caitlin, her back killing her, on her hands and knees, reached the far wall. At the very bottom of one of the tallest stacks, she yanked out one particularly large and heavy book—and as she did, the entire stack came crashing down around her; she quickly covered her head as the mountain collapsed, and got out of the way just before being completely crushed. The books finally settled in a huge cloud of dust, and she looked up, dazed and confused. She felt like she wanted to cry.

Large wings sprout from its side, red liquid running down the tips of its feathers from the sharp growths at the top. It's already killed something today. Stumbling back, I trip on something and I land on my hip. I twist to run, but my first step lands me in a hole that I never had the chance of spotting, and the weightlessness that follows tells me I'm falling. With only the darkness around me, it’s a peaceful way to travel to my death. There’s going to be a bottom to this pit, and when it hits me, I don't expect it to be pillowy soft. ***