La Casa Que Arde De Noche Novels & Stories

The mansion that once stood as a symbol of power and wealth was now eerily silent, its doom approaching. Gabriel stepped forward, handing Cassian a lighter. The flick of the metal lid broke the stillness as Cassian opened it, his eyes locking onto the house—now no longer a home, but a grave for the family who had dared to cross him. His face remained cold, unmoved by the destruction about to unfold. With one last glance, he tossed the lighter toward the mansion's front door. The flames ignited instantly, crackling with a hunger that devoured everything in its path. Fire raced through the house, consuming it from the inside out.

A woman wearing a crown shaped from living flame. She turned toward me. For one impossible second, I thought I was looking into a mirror. Then I realized the differences. She wasn't me. She only wore my face. Her lips moved. Three quiet words reached me across centuries. "Finish what I began." The vision shattered. Without thinking, I reached out and wrapped my hand around the hilt. Power exploded through the chamber. A shockwave ripped outward, throwing guards and cultists alike off their feet. Stone pillars cracked from floor to ceiling. Ancient runes hidden beneath layers of dust ignited in crimson fire, spreading across every wall like veins awakening after a long sleep.

My reflection looked like a stranger's eyes faded, lips pressed tight. And then, almost without noticing, I whispered to the glass, to the city, to myself: “Just one night of freedom. That’s all I need.” As the city lights shimmered, a dangerous thought took root in Ava’s heartone that would fire everything that followed. *One night to run, one night to burn.*

As I was about to open my mouth again, I was interrupted by the voices that had grown more terrifying. “Run!” They cried. “RUN!” In a heartbeat, the cold air was replaced by a sudden wave of searing heat, prompting me to spin around and face the horrifying sight before me. The manor, where thousands of Farsuleias had left a mark on the history of our lineage, was now consumed by a raging inferno, its flames eagerly dancing upon the foundations. My breath caught in my chest as I watched the fire's voracious hunger devour everything in its path.

Ismael said, rushing into the flaming house, after letting himself get drenched by the warer pipe being used by the guards in trails to contain the flames. The flames licked at the windows of the faintly stood Massion, sending plumes of thick, black smoke billowing into the night sky. The sound of shattering glass echoed through the quiet neighborhood as the fire roared inside, consuming everything in its path. Inside the house, Micheal cried out for help, his tiny voice lost amid the crackling of burning wood and the roar of the inferno. “Michael!“ Ismael called out, charged through the front door, while he swerved hysterically in search of the young child's, hoping dearly on having it's ec

he said, eyes already gone dark. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. Time stopped. Matteo yelled something. Lazaro’s finger curled. And I knew he was going to pull the trigger. To be continued... Chapter 38 – Burn Them All Amara The city burns. Flames eat through rooftops like hungry mouths, smoke veils the sky until the sun itself disappears. Sirens scream like dying violins. Bullets cut through air thick with the scent of gasoline, blood, and betrayal.

She stuck her tongue out at me. Classic. We were playing house, and I wanted more. I almost did not answer when my phone buzzed, but I had to. I stepped away, placing a quick kiss on her cheek. "Raphael." Caterina nodded, still bent over her notepad. "What is it?" I answered. Raphael’s voice was urgent when he spoke. "The estate, Luca. It is on fire. Someone had torched it." Wait, wait. I must have misheard or something.

He handed it over to me. It contained only one line. "The mother must not see the next moon." I barely finished reading when a piercing whistle broke the silence of the night. The shadow guard raised his eyes. "Down!" An arrow of flame pierced the roof. Cottage roof caught fire. Another arrow followed. Then another one. Flames were spreading rapidly along the wooden beams of the roof. Neryss grabbed my arm. "We need to leave!" Smoke started filling the room. I covered my mouth and hugged my stomach.

The villa trembled. It began with a low rumble, like distant thunder. Then came the explosion—violent, deafening, shattering the stillness of dawn. Windows burst inward. Flames licked the sky. Smoke curled through the olive trees like serpents. Amaro was thrown from his bed, landing hard against the floor. He scrambled to his feet, ears ringing, heart racing. “Lucia!” he shouted. She burst into the hallway, barefoot, coughing through the smoke. “What happened?”

Night in Alexander Steele’s mansion was different from night anywhere else. It wasn’t quiet. It wasn’t peaceful. It felt alive—like the walls themselves breathed heat and shadows. Elara sat on the edge of her bed, legs folded, hands clasped. She had been in this room for hours, doing nothing except listening for footsteps and memorizing every whisper of the house. She hated uncertainty, and in this mansion everything felt unpredictable. A soft knock came on her door. She froze.