My Drill Is The Drill That Will Pierce The Heavens Novels & Stories

Silas screamed back, pointing his mechanical arm at the ceiling. ​As if on cue, the entire Forge shook with a violent, tectonic impact. Dust and shards of iron fell from the ribs of the ceiling. The sound of a high-frequency hum, the same one we had heard on the surface, penetrated the thick stone walls. The Harvesters were directly above us. They were no longer just harvesting the resonance; they were drilling for the core.

he said in a deep and resounding voice, "and I always will be." A crack of thunder jolted me as lightning hit the ground only a heartbeat before, making my hair stand on end, the scent of crisping ozone burning my nose. At the very same moment, I heard the drach begin to sing. Heart surging with hope, I looked up completely, no longer willing to peek, shading my squinting eyes from debris. Trill and her brothers were in action again, channeling power back the other way. Into the drach. The dragons surged as one to their feet, dumping the screaming Brotherhood to the ground.

Too dangerous. A powerful sword slashed downward, tearing through the vacuum of space. Dylan's forehead was covered in beads of sweat, his eyes were bloodshot, his teeth were growing quickly, and blood was beginning to flow from the corners of his eyes and mouth. His eyes were bloodshot. His teeth were growing quickly. Dylan was squeezing his power to the breaking point to break open the gap that existed between the various sections of space. As long as he was able to do that, the space and any traces of the two of them would be dispersed across billions of other dimensions, making it extremely difficult for Drake to locate any evidence of them.

Drake says. “Does it say how you will change the world, bringing the broken factions together?” I ask. He frowns at me. “Did you read it?” “No, I didn’t have to. It’s what you’re doing.” After the first night, the tension goes away and over the next week, we meet GoldMoon, the Ceryneian Hind from Greek mythology, the techrechauns, the trolls, and finally, we got to meet Lucero, the unicorn.

He drank it anyway. He drove to the site. The crew was running electrical conduit through the walls, drilling holes in the steel studs at measured intervals. The sound of the drill carried across the site, high and steady. Theo, the young one with the red beard, was holding a length of conduit against a stud and marking drill points with a pencil. Mark. Drill. Move. Mark. Drill. Move. The repetition was almost meditative.

I asked, captivated. “The Norns,” Drusilla answered. “Deities of fate. They weave the threads of destiny, deciding the fates of individuals, and sometimes… even the fate of the world.” A voice cut through the night. “I was hoping we could skip the fate and destiny talk.” I turned sharply to see Dalton approaching, his expression unreadable. Drusilla scoffed. “Oh, shut up, Cal.” He shook his head in mock exasperation. “You were supposed to take forever to get here. I thought I’d have some time before the nonsense started.”

I whispered. Brian’s eyes went wide, his pupils blown, sweat rolling down his temples now, chair creaking as his whole body shook. He stared at the drill like it was already inside him. He opened his mouth to scream. “Help! Somebody—!” I smiled. “No one’s coming.”I said. The drill whined higher. His scream rose to match it. ~~~~

I was so livid that I tried to lunge at Ella, but her sidekicks held me back, with one of the women grabbing a fistful of my hair and snarling, "You want to save Wanda, huh? You'd better take a good look at yourself, you pathetic loser! You're a nobody!" Joseph shoved me hard, sending me sprawling to the ground. "That's enough, Yvonne Sommer! You're just stirring up trouble and being difficult at this point! You clearly don't respect my position as your drill instructor at all, Yvonne!"

“We must proceed with caution. The Solarion—” “—is not ready,” interrupts Magister Draven, his robes rimmed with frost where my heat cannot touch him. “Even if it were, such a weapon risks unraveling the weave of the heavens themselves. One strike, and the Reach will become—” “A starless grave,” I finish for him. The words fall soft as silk, heavy as execution. They flinch. Good. They should. “You speak as though that is not the point.” A silence follows, sharp enough to cut throats.

Gidyon roared. He slammed his hydraulic claw down onto a heavy manual override switch on the railing. The three massive drilling rigs didn't just restart; their heavy iron chassis groaned as their tracking gyroscopes swung wide, the six-story diamond-headed drills turning away from the granite wall and locking their spinning, white-hot tips directly onto Dante’s exposed flank.