Road To Ruins Book Novelas e Histórias

Some days he wrote ten thousand words in one sitting. Dr. Patel read chapters as he finished them, making sure he was processing everything healthily. Dante read the final draft and cried. "This is important," Dante said. "People need to read this." The book published two years later. *From Ruin: A Survivor's Story* became a bestseller within weeks. Luca did interviews, book tours, speaking events. He told his story over and over, and each time it got a little easier. The shame lessened. The power shifted.

Finnick's pov The path to the ruins wasn’t a path at all. It was memory. Freya walked first, one hand brushing the air like she could still feel the door, still hear the walls breathing. Her eyes didn’t blink,she just moved and then we followed quietly. Not just from caution but from something heavier. The house or what was left of it, crouched at the base of a dead ravine. Walls like bones. Stone blackened by time and fire, half-swallowed by vines. There was no roof. Just beams stretching out like ribs, framing the gray sky.

The world after The Burning was quiet. Too quiet. No more cars rumbling down streets, no more planes humming overhead. No more constant hum of humanity. Just ash and silence. I moved through the ruins of a small town, my feet crunching over broken glass and charred debris. The once vibrant town was now just a skeleton, its buildings blackened and hollowed out, like they’d been picked clean by vultures. The air was thick with the smell of burnt wood and decay, and every breath tasted like dust.

Alison’s POV The road to The Silver Moon Pack Ruins was eerily silent. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath as we approached the place where it had all started. The tires crunched over gravel as Kendrick brought the car to a slow stop, the headlights illuminating the desolate landscape ahead. The ruins stood like a graveyard of forgotten souls... burnt structures, shattered stone walls, and remnants of what was once a thriving pack. The air was thick with something ancient and unsettling, a weight pressing down on my chest the moment we stepped out of the car.

Chapter Thirteen – Ashes on the Road The road stretched endless beneath a bruised sky, dust curling into the air with each faltering step. Adrian’s boots ground against gravel and ash, dragging over ruins that had once been villages, homes, lives. Pain radiated from his ribs, the bullet graze still raw beneath the filthy bandages he had wrapped himself in. Every inhale flared like fire through his lungs.

The ruins were close now, closer than they had ever been. The land began to shift as they walked. The rolling hills flattened into a vast expanse of stone, broken by jagged pillars that jutted toward the sky like the bones of a long-dead beast. The Celestial Ruins loomed in the distance, half-hidden in the fog, an ancient structure bathed in an eerie, silver glow. Rael adjusted his grip on his sword. "So this is it? The place the First King’s writings led us to?" Myrra nodded, her violet eyes scanning the fractured landscape. "It has to be. This place feels… different."

Then, silver fire emits throughout his body and he disappears leaving Rosie. The silver fire burns in the ruins and Cain emerges from it. He looks around for a second then, walk down the street. He’s back again to the gloomy and bleak world where everything has shattered in pieces. Buildings have crumbled and stones have turned to sand. The cold wind is blowing throughout the ruins. Whispers of children and adults are echoing. The atmosphere feels eerie.

“Elena—!” Adrian’s voice tore through the night— Then the world exploded. The headlights swallowed everything. Blinding. Ruthless. Too fast. Adrian’s arm slammed around her waist, yanking her sideways— Metal screamed. Tires shrieked. The vehicle tore past them— So close she felt the rush of air rip the breath from her lungs. They hit the ground hard. Concrete slammed into her shoulder. Pain burst through her body— But she barely felt it.

But curiosity had always been my fatal flaw. ‎ ‎My fingers trembled as I approached a shelf, drawn to a black folder with a photograph sticking out. I quickly turned on my flashlight to see a man in an expensive suit shaking hands with another figure whose face was circled in red ink. Notes scrawled in Daniel’s sharp handwriting covered the margins: “offshore accounts, money laundering, eliminate loose ends.” ‎ ‎The blood in my veins turned to ice water. ‎

-- Shadowmoon was exactly what Ray had described. Ruins. Ash that had long since gone cold. Walls that had burned down to their foundations and never been rebuilt. Trees growing back through the gaps in the stone like the forest was quietly reclaiming what had been taken from it. It was the middle of the night and it was dark and it felt like a place that was still grieving. I watched Ray move through it. He didn't slow down. Didn't look at the ruins the way I expected him to. He moved fast and low and purposeful, like he had mapped this place in his sleep a thousand times and could navigate it with his eyes closed.