Lost Generation Book Novels & Stories

After all, you are now a Rogue, too, and approaching pack territory will get you driven away by the guards. I tossed the trash bag into the bin. Inside were the last of Ethan's things. With a lightness in my step, I turned and walked away. Behind me, the wind carried the sound of Ethan's muffled sobs, making it seem all the more desolate. He said he regretted it, but I no longer cared. Selene held her head high, ready to welcome the new era that belonged to us.

I dump my bag on the floor and read through the shelf while pulling books out and mumble as I go. ‘Even a book can be dangerous in the wrong hands.’ ‘Ignite.’ ‘Hell is empty and all the devils are here.’ ‘You’ll make bad choices. Sometimes you’ll choose the best of bad ones.’ ‘Tuesday is Fucked.’ ‘Everything’s a game. And now it’s your turn.’ I have a stack of about 10 books before I abruptly stop. "Next isle." I say and we walk up and down the library isles. I climb and jump to get books off of shelves and Aidan has to catch me a couple of times when I fell.

“Most of us have known each other for years, so I guess it’s time to tell you some of my story. I can not mention my pack as it will put me in danger and tied to the reason I left. When I was fifteen, I had to leave for my own safety, and as of this moment, my pack thinks I’m dead. If they knew I was still alive, they would hunt me down.” Rebekah’s eyes filled with pity and concern, but Shaun ignored it. After being on his own for so long, he didn’t need or want people’s pity. He lived the last few years gathering information through rumors and stories from travelers, someday planning on returning. Now, it was time to go back. “I’m so sorry to hear that, Shaun. I didn’t realize how much you

“I know you are shocked. You were going to write history, but I am sorry to snatch your pen. I am the one who will write history, by going against the mighty Aslan Parker. In my life, I have always craved peace and respect. You robbed me of both. I tried to reason, but it was of no use, because you can’t understand that a relationship is built on trust and respect. You could never earn my trust, and respect is not something you can ever give me. I have found my way, and it’s way different from yours. You challenged me once, saying you are the powerful party. I would beg to differ now. I tried to trust you, Aslan, but you left me no choice. I was betrayed by you. But no more. I won’t be any

She asked. I didn't know what to answer but then said, "Nothing, I'm just curious really. I wanted to learn more about us” I lied. She didn't look like she believed me but answered anyway, "Yes, there was a book of that sort but many many years ago it was lost in a fire” "Oh” I said in surprise. I hadn't expected that at all. "There's nothing else that contains it's contents?” I asked her. She shook her head, "No, our fathers before us had preserved that book as the ultimate one and it would be the only one consulted, unfortunately we lost it”

I nodded slowly, realizing what his answer truly meant: the Living Book wasn't here. Whether he didn’t trust me, or the danger was too great to carry it along, I didn’t know. But I stopped searching. Instead, I buried myself in the small cube Zevarion had gifted me, fingers working it restlessly as I tried to anchor my thoughts in the memory of his warmth, his arms, his voice. Each night grew colder. Each morning, darker. And then, on the eleventh day, just as the book had warned, we reached it. The horses slowed, snorting uneasily. Even the wind stilled, as though the very earth held its breath.

When I had Hope, I didn’t know I was birthing a mirror. When I had Ethan, I didn’t know I was raising a builder. And now, as I hold Grace’s book of beginnings in my lap… I know. Legacy isn’t what we leave behind. It’s what stays alive long after we whisper our last line. She closed the journal, heart full, hands still steady. Because the flame hadn’t gone out. It had simply found its next breath.

Prologue II: Pyre, 3113 Pyre Av 5, 3113 Stephan Caliphus, King Everything was on fire the night he finished the book in the back room of a borrowed house. He laid his glasses down on the desk in front of him and rubbed his tired eyes. The crackling of flames could be heard as the city burned all around them. The blood curdling screams of the men in the streets where they died was enough to make the blood of the fiercest warrior run cold, but he was a man of empathy and it hurt him more than it did the others.

No match to the aura that clung to her. I turned another page, frustration creeping into my chest. The book was meticulous—births, deaths, even lost heirs, and yet she was a ghost in all of it. A shadow that didn’t belong anywhere. My gaze drifted toward a second, smaller volume hidden behind the larger ones. The Book of the Fallen Packs. The title alone carried a chill. Those who were wiped from the records after the wars, their families scattered or erased. I set it down carefully and flipped it open. The entries were old, ink faded to brown, but one name caught my attention, House of Velmir.

Someone is doing this because they are trying to get to me, I'll make sure to behead whoever tried this nonsense. Diana is the best thing that has ever happened to me and I won't let anybody or anyone take her away from me, if I have to drive through the whole of Georgia to find Diana I'll do it. I sent Diana's picture to the special agent and continued my search. ****** "Where is the girl?" The head of the goons yelled. "We lost her" the goons fell to the floor and begged. "We are sorry, we chased her but she hid somewhere and that's how we lost her"