Mystery White Marble Novels & Stories

No other term that my worried mind could think of. White shining marble sprawled underneath my filthy sneakers as we stood beneath an incredibly lofty ceiling. Humongous curtained windows, another curvy staircase leading to who knows where, with columns and doors on every floor. This place was huge, complicated and expensive—a lot like the Perazzo mansion in Venice, if one could overlook all the white and replace it with golden shades.

The huge windows are covered with thick gray curtains and the sofas are pure white. White marble and sandstone floors stretch as far as the eyes can see. At the far left corner of the room, a huge grandfather clock chimes softly. But, wait for it… it’s made entirely from glass. “Someone never grew out of his obsession with the colour white, I guess.” Bhyron finally places me on one of the sofas. It feels like a sin to lounge against the pure white comfort. “Just say you love the decor, Amani. I’m sure a compliment will not kill you.” He replies, humour dancing in his eyes.

Ela smiled. “We are not that shallow.” I noted as he nodded and kept walking. I looked around at the splendor, everything was made of marble. The walls and columns were white marble, and the floors were black marble, everything was cleaned to perfection, we followed him down a long hallway that was open to the courtyard, even the courtyard cobblestones were black marble stark against the greenery and flowers that lined the walkways and entrances. As beautiful as this place was, I missed the forest, everything here was a little too organized for my liking.

The floor didn’t dare echo. The study was white to the point of cruelty: marble floor to ceiling, corners that didn’t dare collect dust. Busts watched from the walls—Marx, Nietzsche, a young Schopenhauer—philosophers repurposed as sentries. On backlit shelves, rare liquor glowed like captured embers: Macallan Adami 1926, Dewar’s Double Double 37, Bache-Gabrielsen Sérénité. Bottles that tempted thieves more than thirst.

I could tell they were interested when I looked at them because Casimir asked with narrowed eyes. “When we removed the marble, the war had already started, the marble warned us.” "As Solstice mentioned, the only true thing is that it comes from the nearby empire. Wait a bit and hear what Zeiron has to say to everyone.”

It even feels expensive. My eyes find the bath and my breath gets knocked out of my lungs. It’s so fancy. How could anyone ever use this bath? It should be on display in some art gallery. It’s a pinkish/ White marble free standing bath with gold legs. My gosh. It’s so cute…

which was not only designed with first-class taste under Frost's supervision, but also constructed at a rapid pace, and the quality of the project was also top-notch. The park's gate was just two seemingly casually placed white marble slabs, but in fact, they were the most expensive marble in the world, at 500 dollars per square meter, from India, the same mine that produced the famous marble used to build the Taj Mahal. It was as white as jade, because it contained calcium and no iron, so it not only wouldn't change colour, but it would also become shinier over time. These two marble slabs had not been finely polished and still retained some of the traces left during mining, but they looked

He smirks and waves his staff around a bit, and a simple, but very elegant board appears. The board was a grid of pieces of the labradorite as the dark tiles, white marble with dark grey lines running through it being the others. There was a line of the golden Damascus around the edge of the grid. Outside of this was a white quartz which was deep enough to hold the pieces inside of it, it’s perfectly smooth to the touch. Merlin opens it up, lifting the top on a hinge, and the cavity inside was lined with a deep blue velvet and there were little divots in it for each of the pieces. “It’s beautiful.” She rests a hand on his forearm, “Thank you so much. Please let me know if there’s ever anythi

“But I will make you a fresh batch before the night’s over. Consider it a peace offering.” “I would really appreciate that,” I said, my gaze flicking toward the grand staircase. “Though I’m not sure there’s going to be much peace tonight.” Whitmore’s smile faltered for just a moment. He cleared his throat quickly. “Ah. Well. Shall we?” Lucian and I exchanged a look…one that said here we go. Whitmore took the lead, walking down the marble hall that stretched endlessly ahead. Our footsteps echoed softly behind him. Every few meters, portraits lined the walls, men and women in heavy oil paint, all with that same cold, sharp Montgomery stare.

~AMARIS The grand dining room felt less like a royal banquet hall and more like a high-end execution chamber. The massive, seamless slab of white Carrara marble stretching between us reflected the sharp, icy morning light pouring through the floor-to-ceiling glass arches. The silence in the room was absolute, broken only by the occasional, agonizingly clear scrape of silver forks against fine porcelain plates. I sat near the lower end of the table, my spine perfectly rigid, my knuckles turning translucent as I gripped the heavy silver handle of my knife.