Novel & Cerita Night Realm

The boy is having a nightmare. I want to help. I want to wake him up. I want to flip him over so his nose is not in the pillow. But I couldn't do anything. I have been watching him for forty-one nights. His mother tucks him in at eight-thirty. She reads one story—always the one about the rabbit who gets lost and finds his way home. She kisses his forehead. She turns on the star-shaped nightlight. She closes the door, but leaves it open just a crack so the hallway light spills in like a promise.

"Daddy, what is infant matrimony? Is it a type of hockey game?" "He is an idiot," I mutter, pulling her into my lap. "Ignore him." NARRATOR NAME POV: LYRA NIGHTBANE "Ms. Nightbane? Ms. Nightbane, please wake up." The soft voice pulls me from a heavy, dreamless sleep. I open my eyes to see Amelia leaning over my bed, her scent of wild herbs and fresh water filling my nose. "You are finally awake." I shift my weight, sitting up against the wooden headboard as I rub the sleep from my eyes. "What time is the sun?"

I didn’t sleep. Not really. I drifted somewhere between exhaustion and awareness on a couch far too soft for a place built by predators, wrapped in a blanket that smelled like pine, smoke, and him. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw molten gold eyes and felt that unbearable pull snap tight around my ribs. Mate. Null Blood. Extinct. Protected. Owned, no, claimed, even if he’d sworn I still had a choice. By the time pale dawn light began creeping through the tall windows of Raelthorn Estate, my nerves were shredded and my patience nonexistent.

And I’m going to get him back. I'm having another nightmare. In this one, I'm in a dark room and I can't see a thing. I'm panting and calling for Jaxon, but there's no response. I run out and fall into a pile of snow. When I look up, there's a full moon, shining so bright like the sun. Suddenly, it turns red, and I hear heavy footsteps behind me.

Jarol gasped, tears of relief sliding down his grime-streaked face. “Thank you,” he whispered. Diva reached out, steadying him. “We’ll finish this,” she promised. “For your soul, for all who suffered.” Jarol bowed his head, hope sparking in his eyes. Only weak shafts of sunlight penetrated, casting long, twisted shadows. Eamon guided them to a circle of old stones. Within the circle bubbled a dark pool, water so still it mirrored the sky. The runes on the stones pulsed red. "This is the Eye of Night," Eamon whispered, his voice low. "The thread between our world and the Void.".

The remaining candlelight brushes the edge of the cradle, while the moon casts a small bridge of its own between the bed and the window—as if the night itself were guarding this corner. We lie back down. No more words; none are needed. The silence no longer weighs—it holds. Nyra’s hand rests in mine, her fingers instinctively intertwining as though they remembered us on their own. My eyelids grow heavy, and before sleep takes me, I think through tomorrow once more: council, runes, messengers, the well-message, and the circle’s sealing to keep the rope taut. And somewhere very deep—where words no longer fit—there is Kael’s name. Quiet, yet stubborn.

Damian's pov I walked out of the walk-in closet, fastening my wristwatch. As I shifted slightly, I spotted sprawled on the edge of my bed, her dark hair cascading over the sheets like a waterfall of shadows. The confusion on her face as she stirred awake. It was a sight I had come expect but still found oddly endearing. "Nora's already headed to school. You can sleep in," I said, my voice low and husky, cutting through the morning stillness. The way she shuddered at the sound made something stir within me.

Amara’s POV Sleep, that usually offered a sweet oblivion, had become a treacherous landscape haunted by the fractured images of my nightmare. The comforting darkness of our bedroom now felt thin and permeable, every rustle of leaves outside sounding like the stealthy approach of unseen enemies, every shadow in the periphery of my vision twisting into the monstrous form that had pursued Jaxon in my terror-stricken sleep. The vibrant strength of Ryder, the unwavering resolve of Caden, the playful agility of Jaxon – all had been rendered fragile and broken in the horrifying theater of my mind, leaving behind a gnawing anxiety that clung to me like a second skin, a chilling residue that even the

I was someone who suffered from nightmares, but paradoxically, the darkness here, was calming. I dragged my feet towards his bed and that’s when I saw the frame on his nightstand, next to a Bible. This man owned a Bible? My curiosity fully took over from this moment. I flipped it open. Maxine Jackson. I frowned a closed it. Who was she? My eyes slid back to the frame and I picked it up. It was a picture of a young woman, probably in her early thirties. She had thick black hair and blue eyes. Alexander’s eyes were a dark grey, but the resemblance was uncanny. This was his mother and that Bible perhaps, was hers.

Liora demanded, her voice quivering. The figure's lips curled into a sinister smirk. "You may call me Nocturna. And dear guardians, you're too late." She held up an obsidian mirror, its surface rippling like liquid, revealing distorted visions of Meranthia's landscapes being engulfed in darkness and chaos.