Novel & Cerita Six Scorched Roses Audiobook

I stared in helplessness at the face that seemed to know only kindness and my flinging limbs were slowing down. ‘Goodbye, Rose.’ ‘WAKE UP, ROSE CINTILAR, DAUGHTER OF QUINN THE HEALER OF THE SILVER RING PACK.’ A ball of fire washed over me and ignited something at the core of my heart. A stronger flame erupted from it, bursting through every cell of my body, stinging every veins that ran through my limbs, crushing my soul and moulding it into something strange—and powerful. A piercing scream broke from my lips and it turned into a snarl of a ferocious fang creature.

“I do. You’re cruel, manipulative—” “And yet,” he interrupted, leaning closer, his lips hovering just above mine, “you’re here, tracing my scars like you care.” “I don’t care,” I shot back, though the tremor in my voice betrayed me. He smirked, his eyes narrowing. “Liar.” My breathing quickened as he shifted, his hands caging me in on either side. “Why does it matter how I got these scars, Rose? Are you hoping to find some reason to pity me? To humanize the monster?”

I watched the images, and my heart was still. "They're beautiful," I said calmly. Then I snatched the book from his hands. "Rosa? What are you doing—" I threw the grimoire into the nearby font of holy water. "NO!" Kaelan screamed in horror. The moment the book hit the water, it burst into flames. White fire consumed the precious images. 998 roses turned to ash in the inferno. Kaelan lunged for it, but the second his hand touched the holy water, it was severely burned.

My gaze fell upon the bloodied tangle of mother and daughter, my heart as still as stone. "Let's get out of here. It's too loud." I walked away, leaving the chaos behind me where it belonged. As Rosa was dragged away by security, her last venomous glance at me was as potent as a viper's bite. It was the desperate thrash of an animal in a snare. I could not wait to see what came next.

She would have to talk to her father about having it fixed. Besides the horrible ride, the scenery was quite beautiful. Lush green hills with spots of heather growing to add colour and fragrance. Giant trees in gatherings and groups were so eerie to cross through. The town was just reaching time for high tea when Rose arrived at the inn. As Sean unpacked with the driver Rose went in to have the room prepared and tea with sandwiches brought up. She was starving!

Now, I knew the only key that mattered was the one we held in our hearts. “Yes,” I said. “Let’s.” We took it down to the water’s edge. Arthur struck a match and touched it to the corner of the leather-bound cover. The flames caught, orange and hungry, licking up the pages, turning Rosa’s bitter words and Alistair’s meticulous notes into smoke and ash. We watched in silence as the fire consumed it, the embers dancing out over the dark, placid water before being extinguished forever. There were no more ghosts to lay to rest. No more battles to fight.

I saw shapes moving in the distance. Others were coming. Their steps were heavy like the earth itself. “R-Run…” It was the voice. That soft, cracked voice. This time—I looked down. And there he was. Rose. Bleeding. A spear stood proud in her chest like it had conquered her. Her blood ran onto me, warm as life, red as war. Even now… even dying, she told me to flee. “R-Rose… get up…” I tried to lift her hand.

Absolute. “No.” The room suddenly felt smaller. Rose’s aura shifted, becoming darker and more potent. Her eyes glinted with something sharp—something ancient and dangerous, like a predator quietly marking its next territory. There was no panic. No rush. Just absolute assurance

The sun rises. The sky turns gold. The birds sing. The ones who came back. The ones who flew south and returned. I close my eyes. I listen. I breathe. I stay. --- Damon finds me an hour later. He is holding two mugs of coffee. He hands me one. He sits next to me. He sees the shoots. He looks at me. "They are coming back," he says. "They are." "The roses." "The roses. The light. The warmth. All of it."

"I’m right here, Rosalie. Hold on. Focus on my voice. You are safe, I promise you." The runes on the floor flared with a blinding, white-hot light. The violent purple glow on Rosalie’s neck began to fight back, pulsing angrily, but slowly, the herbal paste began to absorb the light. The ancient chanting grew louder, echoing off the wooden walls until, with one final, deafening crack of thunder outside, the light abruptly died. Rosalie collapsed heavily back onto the mattress, her breathing suddenly turning slow and shallow. The violent shivering stopped. The terrifying, skin-melting burn in her chest slowly receded, dulling down into a heavy, throbbing ache, like a heavy iron chain wrapped t