Seven Years Book Novels & Stories

" Brother Gasus, there is a book on the upper shelf, it’s name is the chronicle of the seven law. I wanted to read it for a long time now. " The chronicle of the seven law was my favourite book. It’s a book that narrates the fall of a great empire. The way it went down reminded me of my family. " Lady Bonine! There is something I wanted to ask you for a long time now. " " Ask me anything, brother Gasus. " " Then if someone had seen the death of all her family, what would be their reaction to know that her beloved one is the one who planned for it? "

Seven nodded again before resting his back on the seat and closed his eyes "Why must he appear in every business of mine?? Why?" Seven muttered "You didn't know she's friends with Theo?" Frankie asked "Of course not,,I wouldn't have,,,f**k" Seven sighed "You like her right?" "I do,,I really do." Seven said Frankie chuckled "I'm being serious right now,it's not funny" Seven scoffed "It's not funny,,I'm just happy. You finally like someone,isn't that amazing" Frankie smiled "And now she's a friend of,,,,"

Jordi announces to the table, with the satisfaction of a narrator confirming the official record. Valentina writes in the notebook after dinner: Noa, seven years old. 'Six is just being. Seven is starting to know what you are.' She will spend the rest of her life refining this observation. At seven she has the principle. At seventeen she will have the language. At seventy she will have the depth. The bowl. Made again, at a different resolution. Seven years old. Starting to know what they are. They always knew.

The seventh year was beginning the same way the good years began — without ceremony, in the specific, forward-moving warmth of people who are inside the life they built and know it is still building. She breathed the cold morning air. Still here. Seven years in. The path continuing.

Yet at the same time I couldn’t stop myself, I flipped open the cover, my hungry eyes gazing at the pages before me. It was written in Latin, but luckily, I was proficient in my Latin being a warlock. The date on the very first page struck me right away, it was a mere year before Esther was made immortal. An event Esther has always been cagey about. I read the pages as quickly as I could, the author of the book was never mentioned by name, but Esther was. The Seven is something I had never heard of before, and part of me thought maybe this was a book of fiction, something I rejected immediately because if it was mere fiction Esther wouldn’t care about it enough, to put it in her trunk.

Seven renewal certificates. Every single one had my signature and Corbin's. A note from Maya was clipped to the top: "He thought collecting all seven would summon you back like some kind of twisted fairy tale." I stared at the documents, and a slow smile spread across my face. Fated mates? If seven rejections could still be called fate, then nothing in this world was an accident. I gently pressed the call button on the phone. "How may I help you?" the bellhop asked, returning quickly.

I tried to pull the ring off, but it would not budge. The metal cut deep into my flesh. It was too small and too tight, like a circle of fire wrapped around my finger bone. Every twist sent a fresh wave of pain shooting up my arm. However, what made my eyes sting was not the physical pain. It was what this ring represented. This ring had been prepared seven years ago. Seven years ago, before I had ever shared his bed, before I had stitched his first wound, before I had surrendered every inch of my soul to him, he had already chosen another woman.

Her entire body throbbed with deep, deep exhaustion, and despite all her tactical maneuvers over the past hour, she hadn’t managed to land a single decisive blow. Nimrod was a formidable adversary, a highly decorated ex-navy officer who had spent decades mastering lethal hand-to-hand combat. His movements were calculated, efficient, and devastatingly precise. Against him was Seven—just a seventeen-year-old girl. On paper, it was a laughable matchup. What real chance did a scrawny teenage apprentice have against a seasoned military veteran who was practically built for warfare? Think, Seven! she fiercely reprimanded herself, biting the inside of her cheek until the copper taste of blood groun

The sound of footsteps and clattering dishes drifted up from downstairs. Seven was already dressed, folding shirts into his suitcase. He looked back and caught me watching. “Morning, baby. Come on, quick shower—we’re leaving in thirty minutes.” I stretched, then dragged myself up. We packed together in silence, our movements efficient, practiced. Within an hour the room looked empty, as if we’d never been there at all. Downstairs, his family was waiting. There were hugs, prayers, and reminders. His mother’s voice was calm but firm: “Next weekend, Seven. Don’t forget to see her father.”

How fucking long did those leeches have her? I reach over and take her hand. I don’t know if she wants my support, but right now, she has no one else. I know exactly what that feels like, so I want her to know that she’s not alone. “Seven years.” It’s barely a whisper. “It’s been seven years.”