The Glass Wall Book Novels & Stories

Arric mumbled and the room brightened in a warm, inviting glow from an intricately detailed chandelier hanging from the high ceiling. Eirika quickly assessed the room, having the feel of a sense of grandeur and sophistication. The focal point of the space was undoubtedly the side wall, which was made entirely of tempered glass, allowing natural light to flood in and providing a breathtaking view of the garden, lit up with outdoor lamps that shimmered throughout the grounds like fairy lights. The glass wall was framed with elegant, floor-to-ceiling drapes made of a rich, silken fabric in a deep shade of midnight blue.

All in glass, mockingly reflecting my feeble confidence in front of me. I kept my gaze straight, steadying my breathing, my pulse hammering in my ears. Eyes unable to get off the towering floor-to-ceiling glass walls which exposed nothing about the mansion. What man builds this and calls it a home? This looks out worldly. Extravagant beyond reason. Rooms I believe will need a map to be located. The entrance glass door slid open without being touched, the servant without words gestured us in not bothering to spare even a less sophisticated look.

Turning to look at her, I see the color drained from her face, her eyes wide with fear. Alistair, ever the brave soul, steps forward, his eyes narrowing as he assesses the situation. “The glass wall holds,” he declares, his voice steady. “It’s not plain. You can sense the magic in the air.” “How did this even get here?” Elara asks, her voice trembling. I gulp, my eyes scanning the chamber. Scattered across the floor are robes. A shelf stands in one corner, laden with books and artifacts. Keeping one eye on the hydralith, I cross the room and start pulling books from the shelf, hoping for a clue.

I glanced around in shock. My lips parted witnessing the sumptuous villa. It was mostly constructed with glasswork. My eyes stopped on a gargantuan glass wall. I could be on the other side of it. "It's a secret place. No one knows about it." He said, coming behind me. I could see his reflection through the glass wall. I touched the glass. But I was touching his reflection. I couldn't rein the strong feeling to touch him. "Thankfully no photographer and media," I spun, pushing my thoughts elsewhere.

My elbow brushes against something warm and metallic. Click. A low hum echoes through the wall. Dom reacts instantly, spinning toward me, reaching for me— But nothing attacks. Instead, the wall beside us shifts. A nearly soundless grind of against stone. A section of the wall slides inward like a puzzle piece falling into place. Behind it… is glass. And behind that glass—

Franz shouted while shooting at the glass wall, but it was useless because it was so thick and bullet-proof. Behind Smith's army, a bullet-proof glass wall also emerged from the ground and enclosed the area in a rectangular box made of transparent glass. It was too late when they noticed a glass wall rose behind them. They were too focused on the glass wall in front of them. Smith's troops were confined and locked tightly in the glass box like insects in a glass aquarium. "What is this? Shoot the glass wall until it shatters!" Franz Smith ordered frantically. Several members of Smith's squad who had noticed the barrier in front of them tried to shoot.

The massive crowd surged forward, carrying cameras, microphones, and livestream equipment as they followed me around to the side of the building, where a wide open lawn lay. I stopped, turned to face the crowd, and pointed toward the floor-to-ceiling window on the second floor. "Everyone, look up. That's Amanda Sutton's office. As for what's happening inside… I'll leave that for all of you to judge." Instinctively, everyone raised their heads only to fall completely silent the next second, for in front of that enormous floor-to-ceiling window…

He smiled. "Don't worry, I won't push you to do anything you don't want to do. We can take things slowly." He winked. Oh my poor heart!! How am I still alive? "Sure, no problem." I answered and fell into silence. I took that time to look around the living room. The room had a Chesterfield, two armchairs and a recliner which sat beside the glass wall. In the middle of these was a fancy centre table and a misplaced footstool. There was also a wall shelf close to the glass wall which held some awards and books. I moved closer to the glass and felt it, it was thick more like a bullet proof kind of glass. I wondered if other apartment had this type of glass wall.

Although even the smallest details caught my attention, it was the large back wall, made entirely of glass, that filled my eyes. From there, it was possible to have a beautiful view of the city. One day I would have enough money to have a wall like that in my own home. By the way, is it some kind of weird fetish of the rich and millionaires to have a glass wall both at work and at home? — I'll get started, Miss Vacchiano. — I warned, serious and direct. Despite our barbed exchanges, it was our work that we were dealing with at that moment. — I found something very interesting. — I continued in the same tone.

The glass walls reflect our images back at us—two women walking side by side, one in control, one waiting to find out if she still has a place in the world she's been inhabiting. "That doesn't narrow it to me," I say. "I wasn't here before deployment." "No," she says. "It doesn't narrow it to you." She looks forward again, her profile sharp against the light from the windows. "But it means someone with foundational access. Someone who was inside the architecture during its construction." A pause. "Someone I trusted at the beginning." "Mireille," I say. She stops walking. I stop beside her. She is looking at the water through the glass. The South China Sea stretches to the horizon, green and