I Can See Light Tangled Novels & Stories

A cloud of danger over his face, and in one swift motion, he slammed me against the wall, his hands clenching around my waist. "Don't call me that," he growled in a low, menacing voice. For a moment, I really believed he would hurt me, but then his grip released, and he stepped backward, running a hand through his hair. I drew a hand through my pocket and held out to him the lighter he had - a tiger-patterned thing - I had swiped from his room earlier. He stared at it then at me. "What the hell? "It looked cool," I shrugged. He shook his head, reached for the lighter, and lit a cigar.

Leo whispered, pointing toward the highest summit. ​I leaned forward. The clouds weren't just swirling; they were forming a geometric lattice. Sharp, crystalline lines of light were cutting through the vapor, creating a pattern that looked like a motherboard etched into the atmosphere. It was the "Spiral" manifest, but while my Spiral had been a map of possibilities, this was a cage.

Lantern light and starlight tangled on our faces. For once, the future didn’t look like a web or a ledger. It looked like this. Messy. Crowded. Chosen.

"Of course." His hand lingered at my neck, thumb grazing the necklace. The leash. But under the weight of his touch, a spark burned low in my chest 🔥. Because for the first time, I wasn’t only surviving. I was plotting. Tiny. Quiet. Invisible. But it was there. And if Andrew had seen through me so easily… maybe, just maybe, the world outside these walls wasn’t as blind as Arrow thought. --- ✅ Chapter 20 closes here: Palmer removes the necklace (her first tiny act of rebellion).

Hah! At last I've capture them, now I've secured my poi--- what was that? My vision began to dim, slowly until it was completely gone. I blinked rapidly and I regained my sight back but all I could see now is a radiant black light like those colorful Tinkers but this one is, oh, it's the black tinker, the strong one. I guess I became its victim. I should probably be panicking right now but for some reason I don't feel anxious or scared.

But my gift has other plans. The tethers are everywhere. Dozens of them, maybe more. Each one a thread of energy snaking through the air, shimmering in unnatural colours. Some are soft and pale, faintly flickering, but others are harsh and vibrant. They dart like lightning bolts. They twist around strangers as they walk past me, coiling around bond groups holding hands, tangle through children laughing and crying and screaming.

She was the one line I could never cross. But as I stood there, the phantom scent of her sleep-warm skin lingering in the air, I knew with terrifying certainty that my control was already slipping. I was a man who lived in the dark, and Hazel was a blinding, beautiful light. And God help me, I was going to drag her into the shadows with me.

The bass thumped through the crowded mansion like a second heartbeat, but Elena Voss felt hers stuttering in her throat. Crystal chandeliers cast fractured light across designer dresses and tailored suits, while laughter sliced through the air like shards of glass. This was supposed to be a celebration. Richard Hale’s latest business triumph but for Elena, it felt like walking a tightrope over a pit of wolves.

Flames sprang from the center and with each rotation they tried to escape from the vortex in which they were trapped. Taryn turned and looked at Elhias. He had his eyes fixed on the whirlpool, as if it were the most normal thing in the world, but inside the irises a particular light was. Taryn could swear that his eyes had changed color. A note of white and red, like a flame and a light wind. Elhiàs snapped his fingers once again and the reel rose from the table to hover in the air, until it disappeared with a slight explosion, releasing sparks of fire that slowly, carried by the light breeze, fell until they reached the ground.

Blake was a trooper and just laughed it off, but I could see the worry in his eyes, and feel the sorrow in his soul through the bond. “Mom,” Athena says without looking up, serious as much as a toddler can be when she just learned to speak correctly on her second try, “they’re weaving.” I look. She’s right. The not-light between sun bars isn’t flat anymore. It’s braided, three strands curling over and under as if someone taught darkness to make a rope. The door whispers and Tara slips in first on silent feet, Oloron behind her with ink on his thumb and a crystal in his palm. She stops dead at the sight and grins like someone caught a secret and brought it home.