Halo Artbook の小説・ストーリー

I went home and locked my bedroom door. The silver chalice that Elgar had given me was still hanging around my waist. I took it out of my pocket and held it up to the window. A ray of light coming in made the chalice glitter. The body of the chalice was filled with carvings like twisting plant tendrils, with the main carving in the shape of a woman. Elgar had only given it to me as a memento and I had no idea where to keep it.

The atmosphere felt calm. Respectful. Almost sacred. Jessica found herself drifting from piece to piece. Absorbing everything. Eventually she stopped beside a large abstract painting. Blue and gold swirls stretched across the canvas. Beautiful. Yet somehow unsettling. "I don't understand it." Henri appeared beside her. "Good." Jessica looked at him. "What?" Henri smiled. "People worry too much about understanding art." He gestured toward the painting. "How does it make you feel?" Jessica studied it again. For a moment she considered lying.

Chapter 4: Full Moon’s Claim The full moon hung heavy in the stormy sky like a watchful eye, casting silvery light through the attic windows of the old lodge. Elara stood by the dusty window, her braided hair falling over her shoulders, cream hoodie pulled tight against the chill that seeped through the cracks. Rain still whispered against the glass, blurring the pine forest beyond into soft, dreamy shapes. She felt like that young girl in the stories—reflective and uncertain under the cool blue glow of uncertainty—yet drawn toward something warmer, a golden pull she couldn’t resist. Her body hummed with the aftermath of stolen moments, a secret fire that made every breath feel heavier.

River's fingers danced across the spines, devouring titles that whispered promises of resilience and courage. "The Blind Voyager", "The Lame Warrior's Triumph", "Against All Odds", and "Unlikely Heroes" each resonated deeply, but one title in particular caught her eye: "The Story of Alero, Blind Healer". With gentle reverence, River pulled out the slim volume, its cover adorned with intricate, raised patterns that evoked the delicate petals of a flower. The book did not come out alone, it came with another document: a large parchment like the one in her dream!

He ventured to pick it up with his hands but the temperature of the halo melted off his hand, up to his shoulder level, and while he was screaming in pain and agony, Theresa gave him a death blow, clamped the halo with the hook rod, and ran off. She opened a door which she wasn't familiar with, and noticed as soon as she got in that the place was a morgue. She spotted the body of a girl and immediately ran towards her. She felt her skin and noticed that it was beginning to turn cold - it mustn't have been long since she died, and without thinking twice, she turned the girl over and placed the hot, glowing halo on her back. The halo melted into her skin, and the injuries from the burn healed

Peaceful. Vespera Hale walked along the mahogany shelves, trailing her fingers over the spines of the books. Philosophy. Strategy. History. She stopped. On a shelf at eye level, nestled between The Art of War and a first edition of The Count of Monte Cristo, was a book she didn't recognize. It had no dust jacket. The binding was matte black, textured like volcanic rock. The lettering on the spine was silver, sharp and angular. SAVAGE REBORN.

Not just words spilling out this time. Scenes. Creatures. Hazards. One thick volume labeled CASTLE HAZARDS struck a stone, flipped open, and vomited a swarm of translucent, wailing shapes—castle ghosts, their eyes hollow, fingers like icicles. They shrieked and arrowed toward us in a ragged storm. Another book, NEON DRONE PATTERNS, burst against a fallen shelf. Drones extruded from the pages like wasps from a nest, metal bodies shining, eyes already lighting up with target locks.

‘Jump’ a deep male voice wisps around me ‘and themselves will give you wings’ Behind my eyelids a blinding light erupts. ‘Jump high,’ it demands ‘And the heavens will give you a halo’ ‘Trust in the fall and gifts will shower your eternal being’ it promises. A loud abound from the party flings me back to reality. I turn and slid down the railing in an attempt to calm my erratic breathing. My heart pounds through my chest. I’ve never leaned so far into the wind before. I almost fell over the edge. A fall from this height would certainly kill me. And the baby with me.

It’s more likely that a draught from the door or windows disturbed the pristine alter cloth. My gaze passes over the objects on the table, white candles, willow branches, bundles of herbs, trinkets and tchotchkes. My eyes settle upon an open book, the pages are loosely bound and the gilded illustration depicts a woman being lifted into the clouds by two sets of hands. In my awe of the tome I forget about the potential stowaway. I must have this book, the people are no more, so it will not be missed and I cannot fight the urge to reach out and pluck it from its resting place. It is cumbersome to hold, even with both hands and I have no idea how I will hide it from Halen.

His eyes swirled with a thousand emotions, as his gaze lingered on Halo, who focused on the cook book in her hands. Rhys pressed his lips together and placed the album in front of me. Curious, I reached for it, but he stopped me, his cold hands sending a wave of shivers down my spine. He flashed me a small smile and turned to Halo, “sweetheart, there's something I want you to see.”