The Cradle Book Novels & Stories

With Bennett's fiery temper, Sean could end up worse than just beaten. Sean could not risk it. His face darkened with a terrible gravity. In a heartbeat, Sean blurted, "Honey, Mom's spiritual advisor said you should light a candle on the quiet rooftop before the baby comes, to pray for a safe birth!" A rooftop? The only way up was the stairs. It looked like Sean had a plan to send me tumbling down. I did not argue. I just followed him up the stairwell. "Babe, I'll lead. Watch your step, okay?" said Sean, his concern as thin as ice.

"You've already lost." Victor glared at him. "Why?" Marcus smiled. "This building isn't a warehouse." Claire slowly understood. "It's a maze." Marcus nodded proudly. "It always was." The first barrier slammed into place with a loud crash. Another followed seconds later. Dust filled the air. The warehouse that had once been one large room was quickly becoming a series of narrow passages. Victor pointed toward a small opening. "Everyone through there." They hurried forward. Just before the next barrier closed, the group slipped into the passage. The heavy steel wall crashed shut behind them. Nick looked around. "This wasn't here before."

Push! “My queen, you are almost there,” the midwife urged Luna Anita, who was midway through labor. With a long, determined push, Luna Anita gave a final effort, and suddenly a baby's cry filled the room. The midwife quickly handed the newborn to a waiting maid and turned back to attend to Luna.

Each pulse of her footsteps sent a shimmer of life through them, and some of them glowed faintly as she passed. When she finally emerged into a chamber, it was not what she expected. The Cradle of Cinders was not a place of rage or fury. It was a nursery. Warm. Silent. Sacred. A great sphere of fire floated at the center, beating like a heart. Around it, hundreds of small figures slept in embryonic shells of molten crystal—spirits, or perhaps ancestors, not yet reborn. And beside the fire stood a figure cloaked in obsidian robes, their face hidden.

It was not just them raising their son because that was what family was for. Papa brought a large one over to them and told them that he could alter it however they wanted. Ezra removed the sheet, and Rachel gasped as she stood up to look at the beautiful handmade wooden cradle. It was made of a dark cherry wood and crafted with intricate designs. There were etches of wolves along the top and bottom. There was also a mobile hanging above it that had hand-carved wolves, full moons, and stars. A beautiful lullaby played when Rachel spun it. “This is perfect Zane. Thank you,” Ezra said as he looked to him with a sincere smile. Rachel agreed but could not take her eyes from it.

Lila’s nerves felt frazzled with tension as she listened to the activity on the opposite side of her bedroom door. She’d secured the lock and turned out all of her lights before crawling into bed. If she were in her apartment, she’d have been snuggled beneath her thick comforter while watching a little television to help her to unwind. To her disappointment, not only was there no cell phone service in their monstrous stone prison, but there was no television or internet either.

Cordelia danced in place, swaying her hips to the music while putting the ingredients she had gathered so far together in a black cauldron. While Cordelia was waiting for the other witch and the Omega to return from the errand, Cordelia sent her on. Cordelia created a tiny magic portal to make certain her son was in the office with her grandson. Cordelia smiled as she looked upon them going over strategy. His son King Alexander, sr. saw the sparkling signs of magic in the air near him. He laughed, as he knew his mother was being nosey. He grabbed his son’s bottle of water, took off the lid and squirted water from the bottle into the magic portal. He could hear a scream as he had gotten his g

Noah crossed his arms. ⁠“You don’t⁠ read instructions.” Liam stared. A‍va laug‍hed so hard she cried. Noah sighe⁠d dramatically. ‍ Then to‍ok the bookle‍t. Read aloud. Lia⁠m listened‌. E⁠ventually— th⁠e‍y built the crib. Crooked. But st‌anding. They all stared. Noah smiled proud‍ly‌.

with a sticky note marking a chapter about the first six weeks. He hadn't mentioned them. Hadn't quoted statistics at me about fetal development or offered unsolicited advice about breathing techniques. Hadn't done any of the things that a man reading pregnancy books might do to demonstrate that he was reading pregnancy books. He was just reading them. Quietly. Privately. The way he did everything that mattered to him, behind closed doors where nobody could see the effort. I didn't mention the books either. I just noted them. Filed them in the growing folder of evidence that Ezra Crane was trying to become a different kind of man than the one who'd built traps inside rescues and managed the

I was standing in the formless space again, Kael beside me, the Navigator watching with approval. "You have touched all the cradles," she said. "The Cradle of Light. The Cradle of Shadow. The Cradle of Fire. The Cradle of Water. The Cradle of Earth. The Cradle of Stars. The Cradle of Dreams. The Cradle of Silence. The Cradle of the First Breath. The Cradle of the Last Hope. The Cradle of the Eternal Flame. You have touched them all." "And what does that mean?" "It means you are complete. The bridge is fully formed. You are ready for what comes next."