Shining Room 217 Novels & Stories

“You’ll want the East Wing. The rooms are preserved there.” Isolde looked at Penelope, whose eyes narrowed but said nothing. They entered. The hallway stretched long, arched, and sterile. Portraits lined the walls. But all the faces had been scrubbed out blurred with solvent, like ghosts with polite posture. Room 217 waited at the end. Isolde’s hand hovered over the knob. “This was mine.” Dorian looked at her. “You’re sure?” “Yes.” Her voice was strange. Hollow. She opened the door.

Xav shrugged, turning to the keyboard and hit the activate command keys. "We don't get the fun bits like D.H.D's, and it's actual magic not science," I gave him a small eye roll he chuckled at, pressing the last button of the access code. He gestured, "but, it's still cool as fuck." The metal shields on the windows pulled back. Below, a large hexagon room of carved dark grey polished stone, the centre curved to create a sloping platform that led to a wide flat stone and a large archway dug into the wall that circled like a mirror.

"Don't complain that I didn’t give you a way out when you're screaming for your life in five minutes." ​"Hhhh. After you, 'brave' leader." ​The heavy doors open, and a blast of refrigerated, stale air hit us. We stepped into the first chamber, and the door slammed shut that made my heart give a sudden, unwanted thump. ​The room was bathed in a red glow. It was the kind of light that make eyes play tricks, turning every shadow into something moving, something predatory. The background track was overlaid with the sound of dripping water and scratching claws.

A chill moved through me. Before I could ask another question, the room suddenly locked. Metal shutters dropped over the walls. I rushed toward one. “Victor!” He grabbed me. “Don’t touch them.” “Why?” “Because the room reacts to blood.” I looked at my hand. A tiny cut was still visible across my palm. Too late. A drop of blood fell onto the floor. The entire room lit up. PRIMARY CARRIER DETECTED. SOVEREIGN ACCESS GRANTED. I backed away.

Jonah takes us to a back office that leads to another back office that opens up to a storage room with a very scary catwalk staircase up to the moment floor. I’m pretty sure we’re about to be killed when Jonah ushers us up it and through a beaded curtain, into a room lit up with black light. The floor is painted black, with sigils and symbols in glowing phosphorescent colors. There are bean bag chairs scattered around the perimeter of the room and an impressively tall hookah in one corner. Shelves hold jars of herbs and dirt and murky liquids I want nothing to do with.

As they approach, Beta’s voice plays through the intercom system. > “You and I were both born in fire, Ember. But only one of us was meant to survive it.” Ember stops at the door. Blood coats the handle. Her own name is scratched into the steel. Lucien raises his gun. Ember opens the door. Inside? A mirror. And written in red across it: “KILL YOUR REFLECTION. OR BECOME ME.” LOCATION: Room 51 – B-9 Deep Core Level TIME: 6:38 a.m.

The door was slightly ajar. "Here," I whispered to Jeffery. He nodded, sweat rolling down his jawline. His black T-shirt clung to the chest muscles, stretched tight over his shoulders. Bruised and bloodied as he was, he was a man carved from granite—ready for battle. "Cover me," I murmured, pushing through the narrow slit. It was darker in there. Colder. The quiet wasn't hollow—it was waiting. The room bent into a semi-circular room lined with flickering green lights. Consoles. Monitors. And in the center—one of those glowing glass cubes suspended in mid-air.

The physical security is equally impressive—reinforced doors, biometric locks, surveillance cameras covering every angle. The common area at the center of the suite is designed for strategy sessions—a large table with digital displays, communication equipment, maps of all allied territories. Three doors lead off to separate bedrooms, each marked with a pack insignia—Forest Trails, Glass Lake, Mountain Ridge. I find Liam sitting up in the Glass Lake room, still pale but markedly improved from his condition during the healing ritual. He's reviewing something on a tablet, his expression shifting between concentration and frustration. "You're supposed to be resting," I observe from the doorway,

Hanging from the moon charms are silver initials: Z. I close my eyes and reach for a memory—any memory—of these bracelets. But there’s nothing. With trembling fingers, I align the two halves. As they click together, forming a perfect, glowing moon, the room disappears. Darkness swallows me whole. When it lifts, I’m standing in a lavish room. A single grand chandelier glows above, scattering light across the polished marble floors. Gold-framed mirrors reflect a space fit for royalty, but before I can absorb it fully, grunts echo through the room.

she told me. After a quick temperature scan, I finally made my way to the secure wing where my mother, Gloria, resided. As I walked down the hallway which was adorned with vibrant artwork and calming colors, I felt a sense of familiarity wash over me as the nervous anticipation in me grew. I soon came to a stop in front of Room 217 and knocked gently on the door. I paused for some seconds, gathering my thoughts and emotions before I stepped inside. The room was cozy and filled with sunlight streaming in through the window. A small vase of fresh lilies sat on the bedside table, adding a touch of elegance to the space. A large bed dominated the center of the room, it's crisp white linens neatl