Rowan Blackboard Novels & Stories

“I’m not that scary.” He nodded quickly,Ccearly not convinced. I moved past them, shaking my head slightly. Further down the hall… I spotted him. Rowan. Rowan Blackwood sat quietly, a book in his hands. Of course he was reading. I leaned against the wall, watching him for a second. Calm. Focused. Too mature for his age. “Training and reading?” I said. “Do you ever rest?” He looked up immediately. “Mom.” A small smile.

“An offer.” Rowan nodded, swiveling his stool fully to face me. “An internship. At Blackwood Capital.” The words hung in the cool air. For a second, they didn’t make sense. Blackwood Capital. Their family’s investment firm. The sleek, glass-and-steel tower downtown. The place I’d gone to once, months ago, desperate for any kind of legitimate work.

and “I heard he talked to her.” It’s enough to make me wish I could disappear. I survived my first class thankfully without incident. Afterward, I’m walking with a group of friends...Lila, June, and Marnie...trying to focus on their chatter about an upcoming event and it’s nice hearing something normal for a change then Lila suddenly gasps. “Oh my God.” I look up and my stomach drops. Ryan Blackwood is standing in front of us calmly and silently like he’s been waiting. “Can I have a word with Elena?” he asks with his deep voice steady.

Julian fell to his knees, clutching his head as the feedback from his own technology fried his neural implants. But as I turned to Rowan, the victory turned to ash. Rowan’s eyes were open, but they weren't hazel. They were black. Deep, endless black, like the ink of the journal. He stood up, his movements fluid and predatory, but there was no warmth in him. No guilt. No love. He looked at me, then at the glowing light of my stomach. "The Spark is beautiful," Rowan said, but the voice was a composite of a thousand different souls. "Thank you for waking us, Lyra. We’ve been waiting a long time for a Sovereign to open the door."

I slid into my chair, keeping my head down, expecting some kind of fallout. Nothing. No email. No summons. No icy glare from across the glass walls of his office. For two whole minutes, I let myself believe maybe I’d imagined it. And then—his door opened. Dominic Blackwood stepped out, dressed in black slacks and a charcoal button-down, sleeves rolled to his elbows, forearms tensed, jaw sharp enough to cut glass. His gaze found mine, and for half a second, the air between us thickened. “Meeting room. Five minutes.” His voice was low, rough, lethal.

And I started to roll my eyes and move in a circular position by standing in the same place. And suddenly, I saw an off-white-colored paper on the table. I moved forward near to the table and took this page in my hand and it was written with black ink and then I again looked at the table by moving the side of paper, which actually became hurdle for me to look on table but in the table, there is no black ink or pen. And I started to read by frying my eyebrows that there was nothing to write. But this time it did not scare me, because now I spend a long time here and there, and I do not become scared of it. And on that page, something like that:

he muttered. “The list of councilmen in Blackwood clan,” I answered distractedly. “But it won’t help. We need Darkfire clan records. I doubt I have anything from them.” Rowan rolled his eyes and turned another page lazily — then suddenly froze. “Hey…” His voice sharpened. “Come look at this.” Kai and I rushed over. Rowan shoved the book toward us, pointing to a name written neatly on the yellowed page. Councilman Bernard Sawyer — under King Alexander Blackwood.