Light To The Hills Novels & Stories

The hilltop house stood majestically against the horizon, its imposing presence a promise of challenges ahead. As they climbed the hill toward the house, the light of dawn began to illuminate the sky, tinting it with golden hues that contrasted with the tension that hung in the air. The sunrise, which would normally symbolize a new beginning, stood as a sinister omen on a day that promised to be full of obstacles.

He pronounced staring at the exact spot where she had shifted that night like she was right there, as if her presence could be felt. He ran away from the spot and continued through the trees and up the hills. Soon, he was at the top of the highest hill and from here you could overlook the whole kingdom. It was a full moon tonight, the yellowish globe shining brightly and I found its light mocking as the light in our lives was gone presently.

The sun rose slow over the hills, washing North Creek in gold. And for the first time in a long while, the silence didn’t feel like a wound.

I set the photo on fire with a lighter, and I watched in silence as it turned to ash. ... In the days that followed, I kept my tears and tantrums to myself. Slowly but surely, I let out the news and proof of my dad ditching his first love. Seeing him run around like a headless chicken gave me a twisted sense of satisfaction. By the time I left Cascade City, Rebecca and Nash's world had crumbled. The day before I took off, Calvin showed up at the Smiths'. "Heard you're heading to Zephyr City," he said, his voice so flat I could not read him.

Clara's POV I stood at the hills for the last time in this telling. Not the last time I would stand here. I would stand here again tomorrow and next week and next year and for however many years were given to me. The hills would be what they always were. But this is the last time I am going to tell you about. It was a morning in early spring. The kind of morning where the cold was still present but the light had changed. Something in the angle of it. The specific quality of beginning rather than continuing.

He did not say. Outside the window, the pine forest swayed gently in the morning breeze. In the direction the snowfeather had flown, a line of pale gold light glowed on the horizon. The color of sunlight refracted through ice crystals on the Northern ice plains—exactly the same as the light of the lily of the valley mark in his palm. He finished the coffee and set the cup on the windowsill. Sylvie climbed back up and sat beside him. Her legs still could not reach the floor, but she was swinging them higher than before.

A tiny beam of light appeared. Fair. Far away. Reasonable. Very far away. God. At the end of one tunnel. Fair. A tiny light. Reasonable honestly. Hope. God. Then Lily pointed. Fair. Immediately. Reasonable. "There." God. Then the three girls started moving. Fair. Toward the light. Reasonable. Toward hope. God. Toward home. Fair. But none of them noticed something. Reasonable honestly. Not yet. God. The water behind them was rising.

The first light of dawn spilled across the valley, washing the hills in hues of gold and lavender. From the heart of the sanctuary village, the bells rang—not the harsh clang of summons, but a melody of joy. After years of war, betrayal, and ashes, the dawn felt like a promise made good.

Just two people under the sun discovering the world together. As the day began to wind down, we mounted the horses again and rode to the edge of the hills crowning the ranch's far side. From there, the land dipped gently into valleys and stretched toward the hazy horizon. We dismounted and spread out a blanket I kept in Midnight’s saddlebag, dropping our fruit haul in the center. The sun hovered just above the hills, spilling golden light across the sky, and Kairos sat beside me, now chewing on a slice of plum, his face soft and calm.

"You sound exactly like your grandfather when you talk like that—always soothing the tempest. Storms, however, don't appreciate verse. And time… time never makes promises. On the other side of the room, Lily rose up from the rug where she'd been sitting next to Helena. She moved towards the window, her arms folded across her chest as she stared out. Moonlight streamed through the window, illuminating her skin in silver hues. The trees in the garden creaked softly in the breeze.