Novel & Cerita Meta Knight Artwork

I could have sworn the ba m figure looked so familiar but I shrugged it off. “Hope you’re enjoying the atmosphere?” Kent inquired still with his hands placed over my shoulder which only made me nervous as their gazes turned to me. “Yes, it’s all well. This is a great artist is it not?” One of the men inquired, staring at me. “Yes she is, this is Onika and she’s the artist behind these magnificent works of art,” Kent said in my appraisal. “Nice to meet you Onik, I’m Jack.” One of the men said stretching forth his hands which I took and smiled.

I can only hope the day will never come when we stand against one another, pointing our guns to kill. A familiar figure walks in and takes the farthest seat at our fifty sitters' tables. The girl I wanted to avoid the whole evening. The Cannibal Snookums; Regan Wells. The bane of my goddamn existence. For leaving me confused all the damn time, pulling the emotional strings in my heart and mind, considerably bad for my health. I know she knows I am here. Her hand trembles as she takes her drink close to her mouth, but she does not look my way for once.

She did fall in love and that too with her knight. ****** 5 ACE MEMBERS: 1. Namit Khanna[BOOK -> YET AGAIN] 2. Dhruv Kapoor[BOOK -> EMBER TO MY FLAME] 3. Arjun Malhotra[BOOK -> THE KNIGHT AND HIS PRECIOUS] 4. Kiaan Chauhan 5. Hredhaan Rajvansh This is the third book in the ace series and is about the third ace of the 5 ace group, Arjun Malhotra. ********

One day, it would burn everything. *** At eighteen, Kaelan was summoned to a sealed chamber at the heart of Nightbane’s stronghold. The corridor leading to it was long, guarded by armed soldiers. The black stone walls were covered with ancient carvings glowing faintly whenever the moon reached its peak. Kaelan stepped inside. The air was thick, laced with sulfur and aged incense. At the center of the chamber stood a massive canvas, taller than any man. The Moon Painting. It wasn’t just art. Silver light pulsed from its surface, like breath. The paint shimmered, alive. A wolf with golden eyes stared outward, piercing through anyone who dared stand before it. Kaelan felt as if his entire soul

Instead of arguing, I approached the stand and unveiled what lay beneath the cloth—a painting. The three wolves' reactions were immediate and distinct. My father's eyes narrowed in assessment, Derek's widened in appreciation, and Bernard simply looked confused. The painting was extraordinary—a Fenrir-like creature with massive wings, executed in traditional Northern Territory ink style. The beast seemed to leap from the canvas, its green-gold eyes burning with life and power. "Northern Territory ink art—mythical beasts from ancient wolf legends," I explained, watching their reactions carefully. "This is my exploratory business idea."

Before I could stop myself, I turned it and pushed the door open. The room was dimly lit, the air carrying a faint, woodsy scent mixed with paint. My breath hitched as I stepped inside. The walls were covered in canvases, all of them depicting the same image: a melting face, caught in a horrific scream. One canvas stood out, larger and more vibrant than the others. The paint was still wet, glistening under the soft light. Beneath the image, a word was scrawled in bold lettering: darkknight.

Devil calls from the kitchen. “A small spoon, and a dash of creamer” I call back, for coffee, I could answer. “Which mug you want princess?” I have a collection of mugs, I own twelve mugs, I do splurge on my mugs they are an investment to my happiness, it’s only me at the house, and only me who drinks coffee. “I’m a fucking Author one,” I tell her, it’s one of my costume-made mugs, the best ten dollars I ever spent, they are from my writing work money, so the mugs are an investment in my work.

Then Henry stopped. Immediately. Then: "Oh." Pause. Then: "Oh no." Nobody liked those words anymore. Then: "What now?" Henry pointed toward the murals. Then: "The First Heir." The group turned. The murals showed Arkan. Standing beside twelve floating crowns. Then another image. Arkan kneeling before a black throne. Then another. Arkan fighting something enormous. Something hidden beneath the Citadel. Then another. Arkan sealing it away. The entire tunnel fell silent. Then Kael stared at the final mural.

Alexander He gritted his teeth as he studied the image of his lycan above the marbled mantlepiece. The painting was done by a royal pack member, Paul Cezanne in 1858. The worth of the art was invaluable like the artist himself. No matter how much he tried to relax, it was impossible. His wolf was snarling and roaring in his head, wanting blood on his sharp canines. The blood of the enemy. A fucking necromancer. He will tear him piece by piece by nightfall tomorrow.

That was the moment I swiveled my gaze around the room, noticing the soft glow of the chandelier that hung from the lofty ceiling, the cream colored walls I wanted to run my fingers on, and worse— My breath locked, confusion slowly setting in as my eyes narrowed on the artworks that were hung on the wall. Paintings that I had seen at an exhibition, paintings that I’d wanted desperately but couldn’t get because they were sold at ridiculous amounts and Eden believed it was a waste of money. But they were here, staring back at me like they were hung here for me. My eyes twitched, my brain short-circuited as I tried to process why they were here. Merida’s voice broke through my muddled brain and