Romans & histoires Synopsis Of The Book The Nightingale

The nightingale's sharp beak forcefully pecked open the box filled with secrets, crazy memories surged out, pouring out all over. She saw herself effortlessly unlocking his computer with subconscious numbers. "Indeed, being moved is foolish." The nightingale, always hitting the target, never failing, could hit a flying fly in the air with a bullet. She raised the gun at the man she shouldn't have feelings for. She had successfully aimed at his heart, but at the last moment of firing, she deviated and didn't hit. When she discovered that Caesar's password was the time of her first permanent mark, the nightingale first sensed her feelings for him.

“That is all. Please take your leave.” The knight rose, and the glint of sunlight illuminated his rugged ginger locks. As he walked away, I walked to the length of books across my wall, shelving the documents in folders I had Shareef organize before. The mirror on the wall caught my eye, and I looked away from the man, who stared back. A haze surrounded me in an ominous cloak of black and purple. Who am I to talk about cleanliness. I flicked a speck of dust. When my maimed soul is decaying to rot? I walked towards Shareef’s retreating body.

TABLE OF CONTENTS Synopsis CAST Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Chapter Twenty-Six Chapter Twenty-Seven Chapter Twenty-Eight Chapter Twenty-Nine Chapter Thirty Chapter Thirty-One Chapter Thirty-Two Chapter Thirty-Three Chapter Thirty-Four Chapter Thirty-Five Chapter Thirty-Six Chapter Thirty-Seven Chapter Thirty-Eight Chapter Thirty-Nine C

Long milky blonde hair with a pair of red-violet eyes that can drown you into a bottomless pit, reddish lips, and a milky white complexion. This is not me! Clearly not Nina Facelo! And like a flashback. My whole life before I came here, started flowing. From school, going to a nearby bookstore to buy the most awaited book that my friends recommended to me. And I, trying to be a hero and ended up dying in a dark alley on the second street. Illuminating Darkness! That's the title! That's the book that I want to read! I didn't sleep peacefully instead I died young! And to add salt to the wounds. I am now in the body of the most wicked Dame in the Kingdom! The suspected villainess of the famous

Her aunt’s sharp nails dug into her cheeks. “You have no right to refuse,” Mathilda said through gritted teeth, her eyes blazing with anger. “Don’t think your tears will change anything! They’re useless and won’t help!” She then forcefully let go of Lilliane’s face. Lilliane sobbed, almost choking from crying. The sharpness of her aunt’s nails seemed to linger, embedded in her skin. Richard smirked derisively, as even he could hear the girl’s words.

The family gathered under the blood moon, the smell of scorched earth in the air, and the memory of an almost-tragedy burned into their bones. Three days later, Thelma sat by the fireplace, a shawl over her shoulders, and Saint in her lap. She opened her leather-bound book. “Tonight, I will tell you the story of the girl who burned and became legend.” Saint looked up. “Is it about you?” She smiled. “It always was.”

The crown hovered above both sisters, no longer split, no longer settled, and no longer answering Maelor’s heartbeat. Rudina’s eyes moved past Adolphus, past Ashina, past the dead midwife, and toward the first Blood Feather book trembling in the air. “The danger was the child named by the enemy before his mother was allowed to love him freely.” Ashina fell to her knees. Maelor’s heartbeat stopped for one impossible breath. Then the first Blood Feather book began screaming.

I’d wait until I had a chance to ask them. We walked down a long entryway with white and black marble tile on the floor and plenty of golden framed paintings on either side of us, each depicting a different scene from the history of mages and shifters, I supposed. The few that I recognized were only familiar to me because I used to read a lot of fairy tales. When I saw one of a woman wearing a red cloak, standing in the forest with a wolf at her side, I raised an eyebrow. “Ah, yes! A Nightingale,” Maggie said, stopping and folding her hands in front of her. “Isn’t it lovely?”

The runes on the book flickered, like embers in a dying fire, and then they settled, glowing softly beneath her touch. Dean was the first to speak. “I think you should open it.” Nicola hesitated. She could still feel the faint sting on her finger where the needle had pricked her back in the hidden chamber. A drop of her blood had already been absorbed into the book’s cover, as if it had been waiting for a piece of her to bind itself. She had already made her choice. With a steadying breath, she unclasped the ancient metal latch and carefully pulled open the cover.