Phoenix Books Novels & Stories

Gold swallows hard, focusing on his painting. He started this artwork more than two weeks ago. The lack of time hinders him from painting it perfectly, though as stated, at least it's done. "This is Phoenix in the Fire." He tells everybody, still looking at his work. The portrait is greatly inspired by the polaroid picture he took the first night he and Kolya slept together. The canvas size is 38"W x 75"H, it's big and he can't believe that he's showing this to the public.

Phoenix stopped in front of a door that was unfamiliar to her since it was not the same door of Phoenix’s bedroom. “This is my office.” Phoenix muttered as he opened the door and switched on the light, revealing a white and brown themed room. A wooden desk in front of an abstract painting, bookshelves filled with various books pushed against the white wall, two couches, a coffee table, and another round white table without anything on top of it, while one swivel chair was pushed under it.

“That's right. I happened to talk to her back when I was having a deal with Lord God. Also, she said that she would try to guide you—maybe that's the reason why your parents help you create an illusion world for you that you thought to be your original world.” My brows furrowed upon hearing his explanation. “It seemed so... if that's the case then she should be the one who wrote the book titled ‘in the name of psychopaths’, she give me information by writing and changing the villains, cannon fodder, and the protagonists. Am I right?” Phoenix smiled and nodded his head. “That's right. She's the author of that book.” I let out a heavy sigh after my guess was confirmed. But then I remembered Am

The air was rich with the scent of aged paper and leather, a comforting contrast to the acrid smoke that haunted the streets outside. I moved slowly through towering shelves, fingertips skimming the spines of long-forgotten volumes. Titles embossed in faded gold hinted at lost wisdom: Histories of the Old World, Chronicles of Unity, Legends of the Phoenix. The last caught my attention—a striking cover depicting a phoenix rising from a blaze, wings spread wide.

Whether it was true or not was up to us to decide. "The book seems to call to us. I don't think he is lying. What would our information do for him, even if we told him what we saw? We don't know the time and place, maybe the book does, and it needs us to connect the dots. Figure out what exactly leads up to the prophecy." Phoenix said, confident in her theory. "Maybe that's why he showed us the book. He wanted to see if it reacted to us if we were worth the explanation, worth trusting." I said back. Pheonix nodded in agreement.

"phoenixes have the power to change just by thinking, they have the power to telekinesis, they can't telecommunicate with their firebirds directly,they can use the eyes of their firebirds to see in cases when the firebird is flying they can connect their eyesights and see what their firebird sees. Most importantly they have the power to create undying fire that can turn into a disaster if it's not controlled well.. " I read from The book as I nodded my head. "now that your princess don't you deserve a crown and thrown or something? " Latisha asked from on top of my shoulders. "let's look around for any thing like that! " I told Her as I stood up and began moving around. I come to the high s

The vineyard had always been the heart of the Del Fuego legacy, but now its flame was reaching farther than Maria or Celeste had ever imagined. Letters arrived daily from across the seas—requests from educators in Indonesia, activists in Kenya, poets in Brazil, librarians in Canada. They had heard of the Phoenix Pact, of the Archive of Fire, of Leah Santiago’s books. They wanted to join. They wanted to learn. They wanted to rise.

The fabric pooled at her feet, leaving her in nothing but black lace and the phoenix tattoo on her wrist that marked her rebirth. Rafael's intake of breath was audible. "Jesus, Natalie. You're..." "What?" "Perfect." He traced the tattoo with one finger, his touch feather-light. "This is beautiful. What does it mean?" The question hit her like a physical blow. The phoenix was everything—her death, her rebirth, her transformation from victim to avenger. It was the symbol of rising from ashes, of becoming something stronger and more dangerous than what came before. But she couldn't tell him that. So she gave him a version of the truth instead.

Not just from the heating or the faint scent of coffee, but from the atmosphere. Posters lined the walls, famous queer authors, quotes about love, resilience, self-discovery. The shelves were stacked with books I'd only ever read in secret, books I’d hidden like contraband. People looked lively, laughing and chatting. Two women sat at a corner table, fingers intertwined, reading from the same book. A boy with a septum piercing waved at us from behind the counter, his voice bright. “Welcome! You’re just in time for open discussion.” I froze as a good kind of astonishment washed over me. I’d never seen this before, not in person. A place where no one whispered, no one judged, no one laughed cr

I could feel the heat rising up my cheeks and burning me up. Phoenix didn’t like me. He was mad at me. He didn’t want to be with me in the same room and he probably hated me for cancelling PRG. All this while I thought I was helping him, but instead I managed to tick him off so much that he wanted to stay far away from me. First it was Fiona and Jackson, now his brother. I really had a knack for ticking off the Jamesons. “I knew this was going to happen,” Phoenix huffed. “Jackson warned me about him but I didn’t listen. I should have stayed away.” My ears perked up at that.