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They were more like narrow alleyways, underneath arched buildings, and she ducked into the nearest one. Finally, she could breathe; Rose looked relieved, too. They headed down the narrow side street, and it weaved its way left and right. The streets were so narrow, and the buildings blocked out most of the light, and she began to feel confined in this city. She stood there, debating which way to go. She had barely ventured a few blocks, and already she felt disoriented, turned around. She had no idea where she was going, or where to look for Caleb—if he was even here. She wished she had a map—but then again, she had no money—or, at least, no real money—to pay for one. Worse, she felt the hun

A lost book. Caitlin got up, encouraged, returning the books to the library clerk, and went back to the computer. She changed her keyword search terms. Lost cities. Mythical cities. Legendary cities. Vampire cities. Vampire races. Lost races. Extinct races…. Caitlin tried dozens of combinations, and this time she ended up with an improbably huge list of books, hundreds of them, having to do with lost civilizations and lost cities and races. They were mostly about mythology and archaeology in general, and not about vampires. Yet she found it encouraging nonetheless. Maybe she needed to think of the vampires as a lost race, a lost people, a lost city.

Caitlin dove into the book, scanning through, turning the pages as fast as she could, looking for any mention of vampires, of how to heal or cure one, how to bring one back to normal life. As she began to read, she suddenly slowed down. She went back and read it again. Then again. Her heart started beating with hope. She could tell right away that this book was very different than the others. This, of all the books, felt the most real to her, the most scholarly, the most impartial. It wasn’t filled with hyperbole and myth and wild stories told by grandmothers. This one was written, paradoxically, by a bishop, in the 16th century. Also a doctor, he had seen dozens of inexplicable cases of cor

Caitlin nearly lunged across the room, grabbing the book and holding it up to the candlelight with shaking hands. Please God, let this be it, she thought. She pulled back the cover and nervously flipped to the title page: De Fascino Libri Tres. Her heart flooded with relief. She could hardly believe it. She had actually found it. Caitlin quickly thumbed through the pages, going as fast as she could to the missing page. Please, please be there. Please be the matching page. She started to worry about what she would do if the matching page weren’t there. Or if this was all a hoax. She was shaking with anticipation as she got closer. 530, 532….

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Meanwhile at the center of Bone lake city.... Dallion Cross strode through the bustling streets of Bone lake, a place known for its shady deals and underworld connections. It was a maze of alleys and crooked streets, a place where everything was obtained through blood or money. As his White leather shoes clicked on the cobblestones, men and women quickly moved out of his way, lowering their gazes in a mixture of fear and respect. Mr Cross was no ordinary man. In fact, in the dark underbelly of the city, he was considered more of a myth than flesh and blood. The Cross wasn’t just a nickname; it was a title he'd earned through merciless violence, executions, and a reputation that left most eit

he said and they started to head back to Cinderville in the dead of the night. On getting there, Gazzeus and Bryon saw what had happened there. Everything was in crumbles and ashes and there were decapitated bodies lying around, about hundreds of them, including their men. It was just like Klaus had said. Gazzeus was still doubting if one person did this, and that too, a girl who can’t be more that eighteen years of age. If that was the case, it means the prophecy is indeed real and the Chosen One would be the one to put an end to their immortality. Then this was a declaration for war and all covens would have to come together again to take out one person who is a threat to them.

He turned around to me with a wide-eyed panic. “Onyx, what’s happening? What’s wrong?” “I do not know. It hurts. Do something!” I grabbed my head squeezing it between my hands falling to my knees hard. My whole body was in pain, a pain I had never felt before. I clenched myself but nothing eased the feeling. I fell toward the ground now on all fours unable to hold myself up when I heard the familiar sound of cracking bone. Agonizing, excruciating pain consumed my body as I looked down to myself witnessing my fingers elongating and claws spreading, but these were not my normal claws. These were different, more animalistic, more like…

A distant bell suddenly rang. Once. The endless pages overhead froze in midair. Then... every page turned toward the same direction. Something enormous was approaching. The ground trembled beneath Adrian's feet. Not with fear. With recognition. Far ahead... a city slowly emerged from the darkness. Its towers were built from giant books. Its bridges were woven from glowing sentences. Its rivers flowed with liquid silver ink. Above its gates, carved into black stone, were four ancient words. THE CITY OF FORGOTTEN AUTHORS.

During my three-year-old son's preschool physical, his blood type didn't match mine or my wife's. I had just printed the divorce papers when I suddenly heard my son's voice. [This disgusting man is so stupid. He's raised me, his own little brother, as his son for years and still has no idea!] [Lol, hurry up and get divorced. Once they divorce, I can cling openly to my real mom!] [And divorced men are unwanted anyway. From now on, every dollar he earns will be mine!] My wife was still anxiously explaining, "Honey! I really never betrayed you! Do you really want a divorce?" I looked at my son's tightly closed lips and excited eyes, then tore up the divorce papers instead. "No divorce. S