Pandora Sky Novels & Stories

A faint pulse thrummed beneath my fingertips, like a second heartbeat that had decided to take up residence in my chest without an invitation. "Sky." “Mm.” "What is this?" A beat of silence. Not the silence of ignorance, but the silence of careful consideration. "Don't panic." "I'm not panicking." You're using your panic voice. "I don't have a panic voice!" “You absolutely do. It’s the one that sounds incredibly calm and controlled, and is neither of those things.” Another pause. “It’s the Moon Goddess, Lyra. She’s claiming you. As hers.” Sky’s voice dropped, quieter than usual, stripped of its usual layers. Something more guarded lay beneath. “That’s all it is.”

Tarnished and wooden is this house, Old and rickety, the yard, sodden with black mud that sticks and itches like lice, dark and smelly, yet the sky is blue, pale blue, it is ours, ours, ours. Strife hath no shade and shame no tinge. Anger is crismon, and green is fun, but the sky is blue, pale blue, and it is ours, ours, ours, We make certain that the constellations are ours. Ours. Ours—Amanda.

Alice asked. "It really cold later, so l think will be nice if we go with blankets," Rebecca replied. "Are we going to stay long there?" Amirah asked. "Of course," she smiled. "This sounds awesome," Amirah said. As they headed out of the house, Rebecca took a power bank from the living room. They entered the car and Rebecca drove out of the house. ***

Pandora suggests excitedly as we slide into the back seat. She runs her fingers through her short hair and scrunches her nose. “Now that I’m off border duty, I’m thinking of adding extensions. Make it longer and more ladylike, especially with the Ancestors’ Flame Festival coming up. What do you think? Would long hair suit me? Maybe curl it a little?” “I think it’ll look perfect on you,” I tell her honestly before frowning slightly. “Wait… what’s the Ancestors’ Flame Festival? I’ve never heard of it.”

Nicholas taps his foot on the grass, making no noise as the wind overpowers any sort of sound. “What do they want exactly?” Cerise questions, mind still set on Yzander. “You,” She nudges him. “ You must know something, coming from ARIA’s walls and all.” Yzander lets out a deep sigh, contemplating what to say. Tattoos adorn his neck, glowing darkly at times he is focused. He clicks his tongue before saying, “From the aurums inside ARIA, all I know is that they want to take over this place and after they conquer it, they move onto another.” Yzander pauses, breathes out, “I’m quite unsure but that’s what I’ve heard from the rumors. They don’t have a leader as well but they’ve come to a purpose.

Pandora lifted her gaze to the horizon, to where the land met sky, and knew with bone-deep certainty that the earth beneath Evergreen had awakened. And it knew her daughter’s name. THE END

at the end of Verra's sentence a massive green pillar of mana shot into the sky. "What? What is that?" An uproar began around them. People began running towards the shelters, thinking the Falling Stardust was under attack. "It's coming from the Hurricane territory," Eloise called out. "Xasha!" Verra shouted in excitement and took off in that direction. While in the air, she saw a shadow passing from the corner of her eye and stopped. She around only to see a beardy and unkempt Xasha staring at her with disbelief in his bloodshot eyes.

Sold. I snicker; I think that this might be part of Jason's gift. As we continue to wander through the store, I find three fleece blankets that I like. One is pink, one is purple and one is blue. The pink one has a giraffe, the purple one has an elephant and the blue one has a monkey. I pick these up too, the price for all three is perfect. For all three, it's only $15.00. I think I've done good in this store, six items for the babies for $21.20.

One v e r n o n Catherine Jung is a girl that resembles all the beautiful words in perfectly woven poetry. Her raven hair cascades down her dainty collar bones like an evening in winter, a dark cloak atop snow-like porcelain skin, so bright and ever radiant that no blade would dare scratch it. Her eyes, don't sparkle like the stars nor they resemble galaxies. It mirrored a dark hole, an endless pit of mystery and darkness, far from any heavenly body. I’m never a fan of heavenly bodies anyway.

A student taps the banner in passing, and it rolls over to reveal the words inscribed on it: GREYSTONE’S HIGH WINTER FORMAL IS HERE: A Night Under The Stars. It's such a cliche tagline. And yet, it stirs a warm feeling in my stomach. Like a blast from the past, the memory of watching the stars past midnight tugs a smile on my lips. Mr Miller’s Calc equations breeze past me as I take another glance at the banner. The thought of reenacting a night of stargazing with her builds up heat in my chest, drowning out every thought of the Lycan. Slowly, a coy plan forms in my mind.