Immortals Book Novels & Stories

I turn back to Alec, and even though my skull is pounding from the blow, there’s something like victory swelling in my chest. And then I see them. Silver Hunters coming out of the library and from around the building. Ten of them, at least. My stomach drops. I curl my hands into fists. I can do this. Heather and her friends were no match for me. What makes this group any different? One of the Hunters lifts their sword, and fire appears out of nowhere. It races through the grass, forming a ring around me. “Winter!” Alec shouts. I panic, looking for a way out, but the wall of fire is too high. The Hunter who cast it advances on Alec, who is too busy trying to get to me to see what’s behind him

I hiss. Apparently, you can't trust the word of someone you met in an underground werewolf bar. The entrance to Dyad Marketplace should be here, right past the— Something glimmers in the bricks on the other side of the fountain. Something bright and shiny. Striding across the courtyard, I approach the bit of metal stuck in the wall. A grin breaks across my face. "Perfect." Placing my fingers on the thin strip of metal—something that would appear completely innocuous and meaningless to any basic person walking by—I speak the incantation. "Aperta obidier."

"And he likes you, apparently." I'm not sure why, although Hale is known for being unpredictable. Larsen grins, flashing his perfect white teeth. "Because we are both tortured souls. How about you?" "Doesn't matter. I need sleep," I sigh. Tonight, I don't want to be entertaining a powerful Noble. I start toward my bedroom, wanting nothing more than to crawl under the covers and bundle up away from all these overwhelming men. "Death is a strange concept for me, as an outsider. Mortals die, they serve a sentence in another Realm ran by a tyrant immortal pureblood, and then emerge here, in the immortal realm where they can live out a long existence until their eventual death."

Inside was a velvet-wrapped ledger bound in faded red leather. The Ember Grimoire. It was a chronicle—half memoir, half confession—written in delicate script by Eleanor Montrose. Isabelle’s missing ancestor. “The flame is a memory. A power buried in blood and bone. The Keepers are not chosen,they are awakened. And the price of awakening is always a life.” Isabelle’s heart pounded. She turned the pages faster, until a symbol caught her eye: the intertwined keys. And below it, scrawled in desperate ink:

But right in the center of the path, the towering, ebony-skinned giant with the cascading silver-white hair completely collapsed. His bare knees struck the hard cobblestones with a concussive crack. His large hands flew to his face as a choked, agonizing weep tore from his throat, his broad chest heaving as he rocked back and forth. He was entirely unraveled by the phantom echoes of a thousand years of slaughter playing on a loop behind his ice-light eyes. He wasn't a god—none of them were. They were simply immortals. Abused, starved immortals who quite frankly wished for death rather than having to live with the horrific guilt of what they had become. He flinched, his head ducking down as h

“You are alive, and that's enough. You don't need to worry about anything tonight.” “And who said I am worrying about anything?” I step closer, close enough to feel the chill radiating from his immortal body, close enough to see the hunger beginning to burn behind his mesmerizing amber eyes. He wants me. I can see it. I want him too. “Draven,” I call softly, refusing to release his hand. “Don't leave. I want to do this, not because I owe you, but because I want to. Allow me to thank you properly. I want to be your exclusive blood thrall tonight. Use me. Drink from me. Take everything you crave.”

‘Could it be that the kidnapping or possibly killing of the missing fairy was also their plan to lure us to form into a group and kill me? Until I returned to my office, I was still thinking about how these are connected. Originally, according to history books of the immortals, devils and the immortals were once an invincible group of powerful beings. There was no division nor war among them. It was peaceful. But I don’t know when exactly it started.

Why did she give him power, immortality, strength beyond measure—but leave his soul to rot unloved? He rose from the throne slowly, the heavy black cape embroidered with ancient silver sigils trailing behind him like stormclouds. The guards snapped to attention, but he didn’t see them. Didn’t acknowledge them. His eyes were fixed on the balcony at the far end of the hall, where the night stretched on endlessly. Outside, the wind was cruel and sharp, slicing across the high cliffs where his fortress rested like a crow’s nest above the world. He gripped the stone railing, letting the chill bite his skin. It was better than feeling nothing.

Evans said and Hazel placed the book on the table and wasted no time in turning the first page. She saw that it was blank and she took a quick glance at Mr. Evans before standing upright. She muttered something which was no doubt a spell and she placed her hand on the book. When she took her hand off, she saw a drop of red ink which started to form into words and she read, “The body is made mortal but there is an immortal body. If triggered, the inner body is quickened. The Chosen One shall make atonement on the land of ashes.”

She walked towards him like an elder about to impart some words of wisdom to a child. “Ok I’ll try my best not to interrupt you” he meant it this time “You better not" she inhaled deeply before she began “Where am from there are different beings that exists there, prominent and dominant among them are what you call gods, now they control everything that goes on that realm. They’re powerful,terrifying well some of them are but what I am trying to make known to you is that they stand above the others. Now among them is a separate race of beings called Anti-gods, they’re fewer in number but still they hold some authority. They’re what you may call police as they keep the gods in check to make s