Mare Barrow Novels & Stories

The night breeze fanned her skin when she alighted from the yatch and they made their way to a beach resort on the island of Haling Cove. The resort had been a fabulous exquisite looking glass house which seemed portable and classy at the same time. The interior decor was modern and screamed finesse, vibrant colors decked the walls of the house; something which Marcellus's mansion at Ocean city lacked. The expensive house looked like one of those houses on Bondi beach or the resorts on the Maldives.

******* °°Flash Back°° Mark was walking down a fair road, one that led to a bar he visited often before. Also, this is the only place he could see Blake often. After he heard Blake's voice, he finally made his way back towards that same bar that he often visited. The bar was a bit run-down in appearance. With boring wall paints and a broken signboard with only the remaining letter B on it, the bar looked pretty old. This place seemed quite mismatched compared to all the high-end stores in that New York Street.

"Mara, where’s the hole? Where is the rebel line?" "Two blocks down. There’s an old geothermal vent hidden behind the abandoned cannery. It leads straight to the 'Mother’s Shadow'—the rebel outpost," Mara said, already blurring into a run. "But it’s a tight squeeze, and the air is 180 degrees. If the Void flares up while we’re in those tunnels, we won't just be caught. We’ll be cooked into the walls."

Mara said. “Where?” I asked straightening up. “Neutral ground. Deep past the southern ridge.” She said. Kyle appeared at the packhouse steps before she finished and Beta Like was with him. Jace followed a few steps behind while his eyes stayed on Mara. “Neutral fround. That is outside Bloodmoon territory.” Kyle said. “Congratulations. Your hearing works.” I said. “Watch your mouth.” He snapped at me. “Not today.” I said. “There’s an abandoned structure out there. Old stone. Half collapsed. Its been empty for years or it was supposed tobe.” Mara explained.

The wind smelled like rain. Mara stood at the platform 7 of Bremen Central Station and tightened her jacket themselves. People ran past her. Bags rolled over the floor. Persistent halls under the glass roof. It's normal. Still normality sometimes felt ineffective. A year. A whole year without voices. Without black waves. Without dreams of the eye under the sea. Mara Weber had never left Bremen. Not at all. She has been working in the archives of the old coastal museum.

While Ezekeil, Gabriel and Raphael rode the horses carrying the carriage. Reaching the Marv boundary, the carriage halted again. The Marvellous land is being wrapped by a barrier a powerful one at that. A barrier that hinders the connecting soils to easily entered the premises of the land, unless they request a passed. But the barrier can be opened outside by chanting the key to open it. The members of the High Royal Guards knew the chanting spell. Only them and the highest officials of Marv knew the key.

Warren smiled at me. “So what do you say, you want to join us for lunch?” “War, I don’t want some new chick to sit at our table,” Damon spat. His deep voice sent shivers down my spine. “For all we know, she could be insane. I mean look at her, she has ketchup at the corner of her mouth and she doesn’t even know.”

What he did have was the largest beard in the family. “Marek brought me out to watch the gaggle of sisters try to corner your youngest sister into spilling about being pregnant. He had to take a call though and stepped away.” I thought for a second before I inclined my head to him and added, “…Vor Baranov.” This seemed to tickle him, a smile spreading to his face. I had forgotten that not everyone was as stoic as Marek was. “Shall I escort you back in? It seems the fun has ended.” His eyes glanced at the black screen and then to me.

she snapped, “I need to get back the shop before the boss has my head. Is this about the Bloody Barbies again?” Bloody Barbie was the nickname Maria gave to the murders ever since she’d gotten involved as a suspect. It was an apt name. Each crime scene that had been investigated was painted red with each victim’s blood, and in each one there would be a bloody doll left behind (though, not exactly a Barbie), no less than three feet away from the body.

Made of broken shackles, the monument was a testament to the former slaves, those who had risen from the darkness of oppression to stand tall beside the wolves. It was engraved with one simple phrase: "Maraba: We Rise." It was not just a memorial, but a declaration that the fight for freedom, for dignity, was ongoing. Mara led MARABA PACK for 300 years before she laid to rest.