Novel & Cerita Night Road Book Review

He mumbled a little before turning on his side but did not awaken. She shook her head, How can you be Dusk and Duskin? How can you pretend to be such a dark child when you are so kindhearted? Although she desired the answer to the question, she figured that she would never obtain the answer. Nightide remained secretive about their past. Hae Mina shook her head as she ventured up the staircase then fell on her bed in a heap. Her brain was too exhausted to push her back into her dreaded nightmares and so she slept heavily and deeply.

The Night-Blooming Garden was the most beautiful and popular place in the Cloud City. More than a garden, it would be more appropriate to describe it as a forest, but as it was located in the heart of the city and a long road crossed it, many would go there, especially at night, when the most beautiful flowers would open with the beginning of each season.

On my return, I creep back up the towering staircase; hopeful not to disturb anyone as I concentrate hard on not spilling my scolding drink, eager to take a sip. Back in the sanctuary of my room, I cautiously give the door a shove before rummaging amongst my gifts for the old book Isaac had gifted me upon my awakening—figuring this would be a good way to pass some time. Still dressed in the vintage cloth it was originally wrapped in, I can’t help but wonder if the family relic will hold some of the unanswered questions I have about the pack that’s looking after me, or more specifically, about Elijah. With only negative connotations coming to mind when thinking of the Shadow Pack, I feel some

Ranger Station – Just Before Dawn Clara hadn’t slept. She sat at her desk surrounded by books — some borrowed from the Terrell Historical Society, others from the dusty back shelves of the town’s near-forgotten library, and one, far older, bound in worn deer hide. It was a gift. Left anonymously at her door six months ago. No note. No return address. Only a title burned into the cover in no language she could read. But tonight, when she flipped to its center, the same split tree symbol was there.

For now, she didn't even want to wonder what would happen if aunt Margareth finds out about her feelings. Selene stretched first, then slowly dragged herself off the bed, her eyes immediately fixed on the Book of Magic that was lying down on the desk, the one she had gotten from aunt Meredith yesterday. Selene took it gently in her hands and sat on the edge of the bed, setting the bulky volume on her lap, and flipped through the book several times. Afer the fourth time she stopped at a page that showed a portrait of a man with ebony, half-length hair, in a long black coat... The face itself seemed familiar at once, but when Selene saw his eyes - dark and captivating like two black holes, she

I turned to the very last page—the one my father-in-law had been writing the day he died. The page was blank, except for a single, trembling line of ink at the top. The Weaver knows the code. The Architecture is the Grave. I closed the book, the sound of the leather snapping shut like a gunshot in the quiet car. The "Day-by-Day" was gone. We were into the "Night-by-Night" now. And as the Suburban hit the open highway, the speedometer climbing toward ninety, I realized that the 300,000 words of our story were only just beginning to get darker. And as the grey Chicago rain began to lash against the windows once again—no, as the black North Woods ice began to coat our path—I realized that I was

" I stare at the side of his face for a moment. I am Frozen for a thought hits me. There is only one window in the library. ------------------------------------------- My fingers quietly sift through the pages of the old Kings' journal, Xiirian Adonis Prime, The 8th Night Wolf. The sound of the slight brushes of pages and my small breaths are drowned by the snores of the other slaves that are already fast asleep, against the silence of midnight. It is well into the night, but I cannot sleep. Not when Night Wolf's words seem to bleed through the pages. He lived a life crueler than I ever imagined. His grief. His loneliness. I thought it was parallel to mine but is far different. It is deeper

“Oh?” “Yes. The darkness from beyond night itself wishes bad things, don’t you know?” Ralta smiled. “Then we shall crush them and their hairy pets. This time, we will be ready and will be coming for them. I do so detest being the southbound end of a northbound female dog.” ***