The Cosmere Novels & Stories

Professor Damaris also said that every Summoner has a spirit animal who can protect and guide them. The Healing Caste is the sixth caste in the Olympus wherein people like Dr. Foster have the ability to heal and revive someone from death. If not so, others from this caste can create different kinds of potions—good potions to be exact. Professor Damaris didn’t elaborate on it because she said that I’m able to know it soon.

James laughed. Inside the Perisphere, the tour of the futuristic idealistic city of the next millennia, Democracity, was viewed from revolving balconies that formed sizeable rings suspended above the idealized city. From there, mingled with the rest of the excited fairgoers, they watched a six minute video with Democracity portrayed as the utopian vision. Designed of residential neighborhoods called Pleasantvilles and interspersed with industrial Millvilles in a mixed-use type zoning separated by beautiful fields reserved for agriculture and recreation, it was sterile and clean and promised egalitarian happiness. At the business and industrial hub of Democracity, was The Center, linked by gr

Death draws me towards it like we have been attached with an unbreakable string. Maybe it's just a superpower in which I get the last chance to save the person in front of me or maybe it’s a curse. Particularly a Crimson curse, as I like to call it. Through the years the number of deaths I have seen is greater than my age. You would think that death doesn't affect me anymore. You are right to think that because that is what I had thought until 5 days ago.

He reached out, his fingers hovering over her cheek before finally cupping it gently. He lost his balance, his weight shifting, and he braced himself against the bed, his hand sliding down to her shoulder. He didn't pull away. He couldn't. His fingers traced the curve of her collarbone, the thin cotton of her nightgown a flimsy barrier. The air crackled with a tension neither of them acknowledged. He leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear. Then, he kissed her. It wasn't gentle, wasn't hesitant. It was desperate.

“You don’t even know what it’s for, do you?” She clenched her teeth, hating that he was dead right. The key was a question mark, cold and heavy, tied to Dorian’s scratched-out warning—find the truth before they do. “If you want It so bad, why not grab it?” she said, nudging it with her toe, just enough to slide it an inch. A gamble, but she’d choke before letting him see her shake. Roman stiffened next to her, but Ezra didn’t bite. “’Cause it’s nothing without you,” he said, voice dropping low, dark. “Dorian fixed it that way. Blood’s the trick, Sienna. Yours.”

another priest added. The High Priest stared in horror. "They're going to burn the Temple of the Moon?" A crash was heard. The smell of smoke drifted through the window. "They've started," I whispered. Orange flames licked up the eastern wall. Black smoke billowed into the sky. "Everyone to the crypt!" the High Priest shouted. "Now!" We ran through corridors filling with smoke. Heat pressed against the walls, making the air shimmer. Down spiral stairs, deeper into the temple's heart. The High Priest pulled open an iron door carved with moon symbols. Cold air rushed out, smelling of earth and ancient stone.

I turned and slipped away, my thoughts still in turmoil. The library. I needed answers, and I knew exactly where to look. The noise of the festival faded behind me as I entered the vast room of books. Making my way to the shelf where Sage had retrieved the book before, I carefully pulled it out and opened it. My breath caught in my throat as the words on the aged pages sent a chill down my spine. “The wielder of this power should find their strength tied to the emotions of those around them. Their voice, an instrument of devastation. When charged with sorrow, rage, or despair, the echoes of their cry shall lay waste to all in their path.”

"No! Kuma's strength was far below the evil energy emanating from within the valley. Maybe we should ask the historian about the tale of the Valley of Hell!” ===================== The events in the Hell Abyss in this novel usually occur in the real world. Its name is residual energy. Residual Energy is simply negative/evil energy generated from a place that has recorded many bad events (death accidents, massacres, and other bad events). In places that have been the location of a bad incident, residual energy is always stored, in the form of electromagnetic waves that can affect a person's conscious mind and can make a person careless until bad events happen again.

Lex cleared his throat and his eyes meet mine but he suddenly looked away. "First thing tomorrow morning by the light of dawn we are going leave this deserted place because nothing is safe her" lex said and almost like it was timed, the sound of a crow crowing could be heard from a distance. "That's why its called the underworld because it is filled with demons" he added and we all agreed to what he said. Most of us here ain't good with our powers, except sword fighting because we have been trained for it. Camila was done with the meat and we all took our portion and ate quietly.

But Jericho revealing his true nature bothered her greatly. You're Nephilim, Feron had told her fiance. Nephilim were half-angel, half-human creatures whose impure souls left them sickly and dead by the time they reached puberty. Jericho was ill, that much Rose could see, but from the looks of him, Jericho might be in his early twenties already. If he were truly a Nephilim, he should be long gone. She didn’t know what could have given him a longer life than intended. But she was certain of one thing--he was definitely after the ritual to prolong his short life even further. Nothing more, nothing less.