Stone Breathing Novels & Stories

The Pavilion had a few aristocrats roaming around, but not to the extent that they'll bother looking at him padding his way towards the fountain with a statue of a dragon in the middle, spouting water from it's mouth. The fountain was painted in white, as well as the dragon, making the water appear as though it ripples with sparkles.

People flooded in like a wave, and the sound of footsteps on the boulders turned into a messy rumble. Aria and Landon took their time walking toward the Resonance Stone. They hung back at the end of the crowd and glanced at the faces around them. Some people looked excited, while others looked nervous. White marble railings surrounded the Resonance Stone on all sides. A massive black boulder stood in the center, towering twice as tall as a grown man. Its surface was worn and covered in ancient symbols.

This is her house now so she needed to get used to all of it's unfamiliarities. Alicia immediately lashed her eyes forward where the Stonehedge towered closer and closer making the distance between them shrink so rapidly. For some reason, Alicia kept having a strange feeling about the hedge. Most especially when the Stonehedge kept glimmering with the that color of a brandishing ancient black crystals which has everything medieval clouded around it. Alicia passed the Stonehedge, the strange stone monoliths silhouetted against the horizon and immediately Alicia paused. Something caught her damned interest. The strange stone only exhibits the strange aura once anyone unfamiliar gets closer to

"Once. Why?" His eyes then went wide, to which Adrian smiled and said, "Bingo. This stone is similar to those meteorites. However, these stones don’t contain worms." "So?" "So our only option now is to find a meteorite and study it."

Andrew held the bone stick tightly, slightly hesitated and bowed his head, "Grandpa, this beautiful stone is very precious, isn't it? Actually, I don't want so many things like this, but Jenny said that this stone is very good for Ray's body." Hearing him say this, the old man sighed. The old man looked at Ray's reddening eyes, who was lying on the bed, breathing heavily and clutching his chest in pain, and finally refrained from saying anything harsh or accusing. If he weren't the only adult in the house whose body was deteriorating day by day, the children wouldn't have to go through so much trouble. The old man leaned against the wall, slowly stood up, and reached out to touch Andrew and

he said. "No," I said. He looked at me. The real expression. "No," he said again. From the living room. Noah's voice. "The limestone has microcrystalline structure," he said. "Consistent with category eight implications. The staying quality is geological in origin." He paused. "I'm upgrading it." We looked at each other. "He's upgrading the limestone," Adrian said. "Yes," I said. "To category eight," he said. "Pending further study apparently completed," I said.

The air grew colder. In a small, rocky clearing, we found it. A circle of seven standing stones, no taller than my waist, covered in thick moss and ivy. They looked utterly mundane, forgotten. But in the center of the circle, the moss was grey and dead. And from that dead patch, a thin, silver mist was rising, smelling exactly as Maia described: like a frozen lightning bolt and moonlight on a tomb.

The air smelled of disinfectant and steel. Panic waited for me the moment I opened my eyes. I tried to move. Pain tore through my arms and chest like electricity. A glowing brown stone, bigger than my fist, sat on a pedestal beside me, humming with power. Benchedstone. The bane of every elemental. It wasn’t just draining me. It was hurting me. My veins felt like they were filled with acid. I grit my teeth and forced my head up. On the other side of the glass wall stood Drazhan.

At the dinner that was meant to formally acknowledge my place in the family, Lydia wept and asked if I would admit, before every guest in the room, that she was the Harrow family's only daughter. The roomful of silk and perfume went still. Seven years ago, the parish birth register and letters left by my grandmother had proved that I was the Harrow family's own daughter, lost years before. Yet since I was brought back to London from the countryside, I had been kept in the most remote wing of the house, never presented for the Season, never once named in a family announcement. It was only when my great-uncle, who administered my grandmother's estate, came to the door demanding answers that F

There’s a shallow silver bowl with three smaller glass bowls. Different dried herbs. A small glass vial filled with clear liquid. And an oval stone unlike anything I have ever seen before that is smooth and pale. It is almost translucent. My eyes remain fixed on it. “What is that?” I ask. “It is a bloodstone.” “It doesn’t look like one.” “It is called that because of what it does, not because of what it looks like.” Fair enough. The healer places the stone in the centre of the silver bowl while the other healers arrange themselves around the table.