Immortal Instruments City Of Bones の小説・ストーリー

“The loser is the ugly one.” She invited the wrong girl. Zaya got there before she could take three steps on the stairs. “That’s unfair!” My daughter laughed while walking to her room. “Mina,” I asked her to watch over Zaya. I went to my library and sat on my favorite chair. Soon, Hella came in and sat next to me. “What was that?” “I don’t know,” “You looked bothered,” “I am, she said Zaya’s immortal. Only pure ones could have that immortality, Zaya can’t be immortal.” No matter how I said that. I couldn’t find it assuring as it should be.

Sasha POV The cold that runs through out my body is one I've never felt before in all the years I've lived in the always chaotic city of Portland Oregon. I open my eyes being met with a darkness I've also never known and it chills my already chilled bones. I try to move my hands only to fail feeling them bound in front of me with frayed rope that’s cut into my skin making it sting, my voice rises from deep with in my chest as I scream out for help.

Pointing a gun at Gray might've put a target on my back, but I couldn't resist. Bones wants this alliance with the Crimson Reapers; I want her. My gaze drops to the leather vest she's wearing, marked by King's claim. My jaw tightens as I watch her lean into his hold, and jealousy sears through me. But Bones will be thrilled. It's exactly the bait we need to draw Isaac Carter out of his hiding place.

she’d been crawling through a tunnel of ash and bark, and on the other side, he had waited. Not Victor. Her father. And he had spoken. Not a whisper. Not a riddle. But a truth she could not un-hear. Only the Hollowborn Alpha can kill him. Now she stood in the cellar again. The earth was shifting... not just in temperature, but in allegiance. The dirt beneath her feet felt alive. Breathing. Watching. She pried open the box. The bones, once clean and chalky, were now darkened and cracked. Wet in places. Mold blooming in fractal shapes along their lengths. Something unnatural had seeped into them… or out.

“Then we don’t rewrite. We remember. And we fight.” But something stirred behind the light. A second figure stepped out—tall, lean, robed in lunar black. Eyes like shattered stars. The Bone Seer. He smiled. “Good,” he said. “Then bleed for it.” I stepped in front of Morwenna, my blade already singing free of its sheath. The Bone Seer didn’t flinch. He watched us like we were a puzzle already solved. “Your daughter showed me everything,” he said, voice slick with certainty. “The fall. The crown. The fire.”

I explained and he sighed. "Callum come here". Zee patted the seat next to him. Callum scooted over there. "When Zol captured you we had no other option but to change you. It was Steph, well it had to be Steph. Zol just triggered him. Look at these holes. It’s where Stephen bit you. It’s similar to Blaze but these mere holes soon turn into spots. But the bond mark by Blaze will be prominent as the sun. It’s like an arc carved on your skin. A permanent tattoo.

The unnatural ones—the ones who had been twisted by blood magic and dark experiments. Her purpose here was clear, though. The lost Soulbone Imprint—a relic from her fallen people, the Frostkin—was said to be hidden somewhere within the city, possibly in the archives of the Royal Court. If she could find it, she would unlock the power to awaken her ancestors’ spirits and, hopefully, restore her people’s honor. But finding it would be no easy task. The Imprint was well-guarded, and the truth about her people was buried deep beneath lies and deceit. Asha quickened her pace, her mind already turning to the best way to secure shelter for the night. She had no intention of making herself a target

She was the city’s reckoning. The Bone Well didn’t answer to kings. It answered to blood. And her blood had started to move. He felt the tremor before he heard it—a whisper through concrete, the shift of something old and dangerous rising under the city. Not for him. For her. He pressed his comm, voice a low growl: “Anton. Trace Eirwen’s last location.” Static, then: “Sir… she’s underground.” Of course she was. The path of heirs. The path of wolves. A road he couldn’t command.

"The inkwell's alive. It bites." "Of course it does." The cabinet was locked with something older than iron. Bone. A femur, carved with teeth-marks, bound across the doors with silver wire. I could feel the Void fragment behind it. Not heat. Not cold. The particular absence of both, like a tooth missing from the world's jaw. "Help me with this." I gripped the bone. "Pull on three." "Mimi-" "One." "This is a bad idea." "Two." "We're going to die."

Emma closed her eyes, letting the rhythm of the city soak in, calming her nerves while filling her with excitement. By the time she reached her apartment, the sky was dusky, the streetlamps flickering on. The small, cozy apartment welcomed her with cream-colored walls and a tiny balcony overlooking a cobblestone street. She placed her suitcase down, exhaling deeply. This was her new life. Emma unpacked carefully, arranging her clothes, setting up her laptop, and placing a photograph on the desk — a reminder of the life she had left behind and the courage that brought her here. Stepping onto the balcony, she breathed in the crisp evening air. A faint violin melody floated up from the street b