Novel & Cerita Gormenghast Illustrated Trilogy

I can feel the sensation of worms on my skin getting more intense, nothing I can't bear. "Soren, you finally decided to pay me a visit." Ishtar teased me. I gave a low chuckle and got serious. "Did Ghost really drain himself to create some neutral energy?" I asked the wizard. "Yes, I'm impressed with him. At no point did Ghost want to be anything other than helpful." Ishtar spoke and walked over to one of the shelves and picked up a crystal vial, inside which was a bluish liquid mixed with silver dots as if it were trapped in the moonlight.

It was a sign that we had to move to the field immediately. We quickly left the room to join the ranks. Chaz ordered us all to be quiet and check our weapons. As usual, I always brought my crossbow and rifle. After the assignment, my squad, squad four, had to explore an area called Windstone. The coldest and loneliest area in the west of York bordered by the Greenleaves forest, and if you walked further south, you would see the ruins of Willeth. There were no humans living in this area due to its poor condition, and even animals were rarely seen in this place.

Creatures living for darkness. For the people of Arden, the name North Ridge meant danger. There was even one time that a physician searching for herbal plants got lost in the woods and the next morning his corpse was found at the outskirts of the town. She did not have a chance to witness the sight with her own eyes but many said it was the most horrendous thing to see. Only a faint light from the crescent moon was guiding Melrose. She had never wanted to roam around the dark, nor had she ever thought of entering the cursed forest. But tonight, she had enough courage to.

The world was silent there…there were no birds, no insects, no trees, no homes…just wind. And then the gates came into view… gates of the Kingdom of Murnokh. It loomed like an ancient skull, its jagged teeth carved from black stone. The wind groaned through the open maw that looked like the mouth of a long-dead beast. The Beast—Gorvane Thorneveil—echoed through the dark halls of Murnokh, a name that struck terror into the hearts of all who dared speak it. Soon, it would be Kaerith’s fate to meet him.

The Grimkeeper’s last form. Steve readied his sword. Emma stepped forward, hands ablaze. Sarah stood, leaning on her. Three of them. One monster. Emma smiled. “Let’s finish this.” Grimkeeper's final form towered above them. A beast of nightmares, forged from every broken thought and twisted soul that had dared to enter his realm and failed. Glass wings unfurled with a screech like metal on bone. His body shimmered—black and jagged, like a living mirror reflecting only ruin. And his voice now thundered, not in words, but in raw emotion.

They hit the second floor, a long hall stretching into dark, doors everywhere like a damn trap. Roman shoved her left, gun raised, eyes darting. “Study’s up here,” he said. “We can block it off.” “You know this place way too good,” she panted, ducking past him as they ran. “What else you hiding?” “Lots,” he said, blunt as a brick, kicking open a thick oak door. The room stank of leather and old cigars—Dorian’s ghost all over it. A big desk sat heavy in the middle, bookshelves climbing to the ceiling, a window showing the cliffs and the sea thrashing below.

Using all my strength, I raised the heavy rock. Just then, a large snake approached, and my heart thudded loudly. Stretching out my hands, I unleashed fire that engulfed the creature. Clutching my chest, I caught my breath. Next, I unlocked the padlock with the key and pushed the door open. It let out a faint creak as I stepped inside, my eyes widening in awe. The interior resembled an ancient library, filled with diamonds, gold, and witch's gemstones glittering throughout the room. Countless books lined the shelves.

Hadn't blinked, hadn't breathed in any way Alvar could see, one hand still locked around the crown's dark metal, eyes open and fixed on absolutely nothing. The black mist had grown bolder in that time. It no longer simply circled him—it rose in slow, deliberate waves now, coiling upward from the base of his spine until it took shape at its peak, unmistakable, a wolf rendered massive and ghostly in curling smoke, jaws parted in something that might have been a snarl or might have been grief. Then it dissolved, always, before anyone could decide which. "That's the third time it's done that," Eryndor said, quiet, watching the smoke fold back into nothing.

"Eli! I curse you to die a wretched death, with no body left to bury!" So his curse really did come true. I shut my eyes, too drained to feel anything but a hollow calm. And then, something wrenched me upward. The world blurred past, wind screaming in my ears. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the place I both knew and dreaded: home. It was December 29th. The manor was strung with gold tinsel and paper snowflakes—every corner bright with seasonal cheer. But I felt no warmth. The festive colors only burned my eyes, sharp and unsettling.

A symbol carved into black stone. I knelt. My fingers brushed away moss. It wasn't a wolf crest. It wasn't Red Crescent. It wasn't Mystic Moon. Three crescent moons surrounded a crimson flame. "What is that?" Gorm crouched beside me. "I've never seen it." Neither had I. Yet... Somehow... I knew it. "I've seen this before." "When?" "In my dreams." His eyes widened. "You never mentioned symbols." "I never remembered them." The moment my fingertips touched the carving—