House Of The Rising Sun A Novel นิยาย & เรื่องราว

Nikona's Pov As I woke up again with a severe ache in my chest, my eyes lingered on the ceiling and the Chandler hanging above seems too tempting.A part of my brain hopes it fall down and crash on me, sinking it's sharp edges into my flesh then maybe the pain evoking in my chest would finally come to an end. My hands, shaking within me reach up to my chest, fingers vigorously clutching the thin shirt I had put on as another wave of pain shoots through.The pain so striking, it feels like invisible daggers sinking into me constantly and brutally, often leaving me breathless.

Caelum turned the book to look at its cover and read what was written there. The title made his eyes cringe as he wondered why his mother was on such a book and, more importantly, what she might have done to cause her such punishment. It was the book of great defaulters and lost souls. That was really some title and sure as hell was not giving cool vibes. Caelum opened the first page with a finger between the page where his mother's picture was so he did not miss it. He started reading what started with an explanation of what the book was all about.

He was sympathetic with his concern and I would consider it almost sweet if it wasn’t for his unappealing appearance. I pushed the roll towards him, pulled another roll of cash from my vest, and laid it down, thanking him before leaving the dingy bar and once again venturing into the cold night air. It had begun to snow and I grumbled, pulling my coat closer around me. I will be happier when I find my father and we can get the fuck out of here. I pulled my phone out and sent Hunji a text. ‘followed the bread crumbs, House of the Rising Moon

Suriel says to them. The trip back to the house takes half an hour. Their house is just a small wooden shanty, crudely constructed with old wooden planks, and falling apart due to it being abandoned years before. The window spaces lacking glass, wooden planks deteriorating with some repair to keep the house from collapsing. Suriel's own garden rests just beside the house, mostly consisting of Delphinium, the tall blue flowers lean against the house istself. Inside the house itself consists of two rooms with broken furniture and sleeping beds made from hay.

Joseph felt the wind knocked out of him as he heard the whistle followed by the loudest sound he's ever heard in all his 16 years under the Tau Ceti sun. A whiz and BOOM. Whiz and BOOM. Explosion after explosion came pummeling down onto them. An unending barrage of terrifying heat and sound and fireball crashed all around them. Joseph covered his face as clods of disturbed earth pelted and rained down on him. His screams were drowned out by the loud thunders. It went on forever. Until it didn't. Then it stopped. He heard nothing afterwards except the constant ringing in his ear.

I couldn't find find my mobile or my nightstand. I panicked and opened my eyes to look around. The bright sun shining from the window onto my face and eyes made me close my eyes due to the brightness. I adjusted my eyes to the brightness and opened my eyes to see that it was not my house, it was the fucking hotel room where we... Everything what had happened yesterday came back to me like scenes in a movie, I remember I was drinking too much then I saw.... Sierra Jane, just the girl I was thinking about and we.. ohhh... my... fucking luck.... I played pool with her and then came to her hotel room....

The images of the scene refused to fade from her mind, replaying themselves in a loop of gruesome reality. The shock and horror of the moment had seared itself into her consciousness, leaving an indelible mark that time could never erase. And as the club emptied out, its vibrant energy replaced by a haunting stillness, the dancer was left grappling with the weight of the night's events. The darkness that had descended upon the bathroom was a stark reminder of the fragility of life, a reminder that even in the midst of celebration, tragedy could strike with a cruel and unexpected force. The morning sun cast a pale light over the scene, its warmth at odds with the unsettling atmosphere that hu

One more strike and it would be over. Then a cloud of green smoke erupted upward. Wisnumurti shouted. Even before the fumes reached him, he smelled the poison. Vicious. Lethal. His inner force surged instinctively, shielding his body. Using the air itself as a cushion, he twisted away and vaulted back onto the rooftop. He waited. The wind scattered the toxic cloud. When he finally looked down, the assassin was gone. Vanished. As though the earth had swallowed him whole. Wisnumurti cursed under his breath. Then he dropped back to the alley. Jaladri was waiting, holding a small dagger.

The threads, gold and dark, dropped together, falling east, falling toward that rising shape, falling into the wound that never healed. Light shot through the sky, impossibly bright, and everything went silent, washed white.