Illuminated Rumi Novels & Stories

my feet and wipe my tears. "I'll find my answers. Don't come looking for me," I say angrily. I run to my room and grab my backpack. I stuff some clothes inside with my dagger and put on my black cloak. It's dark already, no one would find me. I grab my lock necklace and walk out of my room. A heated argument is coming from my parent'sI walk to the front door and take one last look at the house. "Goodbye," I whisper, taking the key from the bull's horn hung on the wall. My mother has no idea I knew she hid it there. I unlock the door and walk out of the house. I inhale the cool night breeze and put on the hood of my cloak. Our house is at the far end of the village, near the woods. I hear lo

Omar smoothly poured amber liquid into glasses appearing at elbows with discreet competence. "Well earned if ever was!" Garrett approved raising his tumbler in hearty salute. I gingerly sampled the honeyed brew allowing fiery tendrils to steady jangled nerves from adrenaline's rollercoaster plunge. Cyrus kept veteran's vigil, keen ear tuned to any disturbance without while chin inclined receptively should private misgivings arise. Unexpectedly the razored assassin slipped catlike onto the sofa, feline eyes crinkled analyzing my still impossibly foreign presence intriguingly. "Rumours are poorly whispered things oft miss the mark entirely I see plainly now." His lightly rolling accent emerged

the woman explained. I pondered her words and began to grasp the concept. It seemed akin to accidentally disrespecting a sacred place by spitting on it, then spitting again to negate the first act. "Wait," I said, chuckling as I began to see where this conversation was going. "Are you suggesting..." "Exactly, Luna. The original Rein krnasi used the Grimoire as the basis for their intimate ritual, and you must do the same," the woman said, leaving me momentarily speechless.

I sat there agitated as I looked around for any escape but the dim lit only illuminated a small fragment of the room so I couldn't see beyond where he had been seated. He returned shortly after and placed a photo album on the table that several both our chair, just then he turned on a very bright flood light. "Look, open your eyes and look. Look very carefully." I gradually opened my eyes adapting to the blinding light at looked at what he showed me.. Each page he flipped showed pictures of a beautiful girl, some he was standing by her side and others were random images of her. "Arggh!" I turned my face away when he opened a picture with a bloodied body and all what not, I had not wasted a s

Instinctively and without a single thought to what he was doing, Rune cupped up his palms, “ Deus speculum aetherium, maledictio vestra fit ignis, qui vos ardet. Corruptio vestra, finis vestra est. Umbrae vestrae in vobis sunt, et oblivio vestra vestra fit.” (Divine mirror of aether, let your curse become a fire that burns you. Your corruption is your end. Your shadows are within you, and your oblivion becomes your own.)

He nodded once, like he mabe deserved that. But I saw the smallest flicker of hope in his eyes. Hope I’d stop glaring long enough to translate the whole thing. I took a deep breath as I read the Sumerian cuneiform inscription: ’When giants labored beneath the burning sky, Feasting on fruit the sun raised high, Their bowls would tilt, the nectar slide, And carve the steps in molten stride. At Hathor’s gate, the stones drank fire, Forged to endure what time desires.’

Resting among the books are glass vials of black sand, jars of crimson and blue liquids, dried herbs, and tiny glowing stones that pulsate with a faint inner light. "The Ritual Room" The narrowest and most eerie space in the house. Dark blue fabrics bearing fiery symbols cover the walls, while in the center surrounds a circular stone altar with a small pit that exhales a constant, living mist. “Lighting” There is no electricity here—just hundreds of candles and brass oil lamps whose flickering flames cast shadows that merge and swirl into illusory monsters and human figures that transform and dissolve. The air inside—the air carries a discontinuous mixture of amber incense and sharp metallic

I smiled as I entered the warehouse, the iron door groaning shut behind me, Liam walked towards me . “Boss”he greeted , stepping aside so I can see our guest. The dimly lit room was thick with the stench of blood , sweet amd terror. The shooter was hanged to a pole naked, his hands and legs were bound with rusty chains. He was bleeding, his body a colorful canvas of purple and blue. “ you should have saved yourself by telling my men what they wanted” I hummed while rolling my white sleeves up to my elbow as I analyse the broken man in front of me.

The sound rolled through the towers like thunder made of music. The crew froze. The city froze. The heartbeat came again. Boom. A pulse of golden light raced beneath the streets. Visible through tiny crystal seams in the stone. Flowing toward the city center. Toward something waiting. Something calling. The hidden light beneath Lumora. The heart of the city. At last. Mira stared toward the distant center of town. Tears shining in her eyes. Corin gripped his lantern staff. Speechless. The pulse came again. Boom.

"How does it feel, Lumira? To be the center of a storm you didn't have to pay for?" "I've already paid enough for this room." Low. "Jaxon is just spending the change." The nectar arrived. Shimmering in crystal flutes. Riven raised his glass. Liquid reflecting the violet fire in my eyes. "To the Seventh Account." He toasted. Smirk predatory. "May it burn as bright as the bridge you just torched." I clinked my glass against his. Sharp, metallic snap in the quiet hall. Took a sip. Tasted of cold moonbeams and fermented regret.