Fake Marble Pillars Novels & Stories

"What is happening to the room?" ​The building around them wasn't changing its geometry, but the rules were failing. ​The massive marble pillars supporting the high-arched ceiling began to violently flicker, their rich, stone textures dropping their resolution for a fraction of a second to reveal the hollow, grey structural framework beneath them. The rows of financial directories lining the upper balconies were vibrating within their shelves, their pages rattling with a low, deep drone that sounded like a massive industrial printing press spinning its cylinders at thousands of revolutions per minute.

**Gabe’s POV** I gazed at the pillars, feeling a sense of reverence wash over me. They stood tall and imposing, made of dark gray stone and covered in intricate carvings that seemed to tell a story of their own. I felt a strange pull towards them, as if they held some kind of ancient power. At the base of each pillar, I saw a heavy chain running through metal pulleys, connected to a circular dial embedded inside of each pillar. I walked over to pull on one of the chains, but it didn’t budge.

This time I supplied him magic support and he nodded grimly in thanks. The rooftop was empty, all but for some outtakes of air conditioning, the giant units roaring into the darkness, and a sculpture on the far end, facing inland. I slid to a halt on the pebbled asphalt roof, the stink of it rising to assault me, heat making the footing sticky. Demetrius pointed as I tried to make sense of what I saw. Five pillars, taller than me, taller than the goon squad we'd taken out, stood in a rough circle around another central column. No ordinary pillars. My sorcery called to them as I approached, the pulse of their magic warming to greet the stone in my hand.

He continues explaining the tasks that we’ll need to complete, but I can’t hear a thing anymore. It was hard for me to pay attention to anything work-related today. After our girls’ night out on Friday, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Michelle’s suggestion, since it seems to be the only option for me to keep my apartment. What would the outcome be if I decided to go through with the fake marriage idea? What are the risks if the immigration office finds out I’ve committed marriage fraud? I avoided searching for information online about the topic how not to be tagged as a potential criminal. I’ve always been a good girl, following the rules. I recycle, always pay for breakfast bars

thought that counts! Who would have thought you’d bring this fake to auction? Are you trying to make fools of all of us?" The person who stormed the stage was Cecilia Johnson, the auction assistant for the night and a die-hard fan of Master Camila. The crowd immediately turned their disdainful gazes toward me. I narrowed my eyes coldly. "You're finished!" Cecilia Johnson sneered, "What a joke! This seal, while made of fine material, is nothing but a fake. According to the auction rules, fakes must be destroyed on the spot!" "How do you know it's not genuine?" Cecilia's emotions flared as she picked up the broken seal and displayed it to the crowd. "This imperial green jade may be old, but t

Then, gradually, shapes begin to emerge from the darkness ahead. The pillars rise from the mist like ancient sentinels, weathered stone columns that seem to have stood here for centuries—maybe longer. There are six of them arranged in a circle, each one easily twice my height and covered in intricate carvings that seem to writhe in the uncertain light. I move closer, drawn by something I don't understand, my fear momentarily eclipsed by fascination.

It was a low, industrial pulse that matched the frantic, erratic rhythm currently rattling his ribs. Pillar 42 sat at the absolute edge of a finger pier that looked like it had been abandoned by commercial shipping decades ago. The asphalt was deeply fractured, weeds forcing their way through the stone fissures like desperate hands. Beneath a single, unshielded halogen light bulb flickering inside a wire cage, Damien Blackwood stood waiting.

But I didn’t move. I stayed where I was. Still. The elders stepped forward again, their faces calm but serious. One of them raised his hand slightly, and immediately, a few guards moved. They brought something forward. Something big. Something heavy. The ground shook slightly as it was dragged into place. My breath caught when I saw it clearly. It was a massive iron pillar. Tall and thick, dark in color, with deep marks all over it. Scratches, dents, cracks—proof that many had tried to break it before.

“You built the Pillars from information left behind.” Naomi's silence confirmed it. The world suddenly felt different. The Pillars. The systems. The architecture governing modern reality. They weren't original inventions. They were reconstructions. Copies. Attempts to recreate something older. Something forgotten. The man in black finally spoke. “The Council never found the Source itself.” Naomi nodded. “No.” “Only traces.” “Yes.” Arthur rubbed his face. “And now the Memory Pillar is searching for it.” Naomi looked at him. “We think so.”

It is overall empty except for four large black stone pillars that look a couple feet shorter than the trees. "The pillars are shadow stone and moonstone; no magic can destroy them or break through their wards. It is safe to practice any magic here, no matter how destructive." Aylin says, eyeing me before turning her gaze to Roman. "My father will be here to collect you in a few minutes. You can have a seat there while Amara and I get started on our lesson," she says, pointing to our left, where a small cluster of chairs sits. "Thank you, your majesty," Roman says before pulling me to him in a kiss. "Good luck, little Devil," he says as he runs his knuckles along my jawline.