Glory Be Novel Novels & Stories

I just want to taste that thing. Glory and I reached the ceremony grounds. The air shimmered with magic and expectation. She sat at the very back. I turned to glance at her, heart squeezing a little. What if I ended up like her — mate-less at eighteen? But Glory didn’t seem to care. She never did. Any time I brought it up, she'd brush it off with a smile and say, “Forget that matter.” Yet my wolf, Nyra, stirred. Uneasy. The Elder began the ceremony.

I can't leave the prince alone out there," said Glory, then turned back into a bird in a very fast time. "Glory, wait." Dante tries to prevent Glory but it's too late. Glory has turned into a bird. "Glory, in any form you can never get out of here," said Dante. Glory is seen flying out of the hut. A few moments later, suddenly he was back and standing next to Dante. "I told you but you are very stubborn," said Dante. "I'm just trying," replied Glory.

Yet already, her shadow walked the streets again—alive in rumor, alive in fear. And fear was enough to set the city ablaze all over again. TWO WEEKS LATER The Everglade House had not burned. Its windows were dark, its gardens overgrown, its walls slick with moss where the city’s damp crept in. Once, nobles had feasted in its halls. Now it was a ruin of whispers, a place where no one dared tread—except those who knew better. Becky lay on a torn velvet couch, her body a map of wounds. Her cloak was gone, burned to cinders. Her skin blistered in patches, her shoulder bound clumsily in blood-stiffened cloth. Every breath scraped her ribs raw, each inhale a war.

Killing Glory would be just another shadow I would have to carry, another weight that would suffocate any chance of redemption. I turned my gaze to Glory, who was now crying openly, tears streaming down her pale face. She was stammering something, an apology, a plea, but I couldn't hear it anymore. I could only see the void she had left, the devastation that I was unwilling to allow spreading any further. "You don't deserve my mercy," I said, voice icy. "And he doesn't deserve anyone's love." My hand began to slowly lower, and the tension left my body in a painful sigh. Glory fell to her knees, her tears falling to the floor.

No one knew what went down between them, but all I heard was that she shoved him right out the 15th-floor window. His body hit the ground, broken. During his final moments, he muttered something about parasitic charms and cursed Nicole. And Nicole really did end up cursed. She clawed up her own face until she didn't look human anymore. She was eventually locked up in a psych ward. But none of that concerned me now. I packed my things and prepared for grad school. I decided to focus on what mattered—building a future in the field I loved and pushing myself further. Up ahead, my clear, bright path was waiting for me.

Unfortunately, the ghouls weren't wearing any kind of armor so he couldn't pick out any decent items from their bodies. We can work for the glory of the human race, or we can allow ourselves to decay and deteriorate, but a house in ruins means collapse; . a village celebration on a warm summer day meant glory; Stealing someone else's wallet means breaking up. The act should not be exaggerated. Parachuting for charity means glory, but pornography means collapse. Romantic films can be for glory; Do you understand what I mean? Anything that makes us better than we are, anything that makes us strive for perfection, improves our conditions, anything that raises a spirit of challenge in us; Well e

He was, in the weight of the November morning and the building beginning its attending and the approach beam honest in the November light and Frances not yet in her room and the valley waiting and the building learning to hold what it had been built for, glad. He was glad. End of Chapter Two Hundred and Twelve

PEONY CRIMSON’S POV "It never fails to amaze me how far Xavier would go for you," Gloria said as she turned the next page of the ancient book in her hands. She yawned, then looked at me and propped up her chin. Boredom floated in the library lower level’s air for the last fifteen minutes. To tell you the truth, I had almost forgotten what I was looking for amongst all these musty-smelling old pages. Still I could get ahold of myself and continued to comb through each paragraph with hope in my grasp.

There was no deafening explosion, only the eerie silence of matter disintegrating. In the white light, Naomi's body and the tower turned to dust. [Time remaining: Three minutes.] "Clifford, are you ready to return?" the system asked. I watched the three people who had once been the closest to me meet the most horrific ends imaginable. "Let's go," I said quietly to the system. I took one last look at my headstone and whispered, "Goodbye, Dad, Mom, and Naomi. So long, Clifford Sullivan." I'd never forgive them, and we'd never meet again.

Gloria rose in a daze, staggering out, her honeysuckle pheromones shattered like stars, footsteps as light as treading on cotton. The maid nearly couldn't support her, worriedly calling, "Luna Gloria, are you alright?" Gloria's mind was blank. She walked briskly, claws subconsciously curling against her shoes. Her resolve to see Eugene had turned to loathing at the thought of ever seeing him again. Why hadn't he died in the Southern Border? Why had he returned alive, igniting hope only to crush it? Who had told him? Who? She climbed into her car, trembling violently. Her honeysuckle pheromones raged like a tempest, threatening to tear the carriage apart.