The Walls Around Us Book Novels & Stories

Walls of darkness that absorbed incoming fire, redirecting attacks, shielding our forces from another wave of explosives. “Good,” Order murmured. “You are adapting.” I didn’t respond. Didn’t have time. Another explosion rocked the ground. Closer. Too close. The Academy wall groaned behind us, cracks spreading like veins across its surface. “They’re targeting the structure again!” Molly’s voice came through the comms. “Not happening,” I muttered. I slammed my hand into the ground. The shadows surged upward, climbing the walls, wrapping around the cracks, reinforcing them like living armor.

Everywhere I looked, there were traces of red wolves. Tall wooden shelves lined the walls, stretching almost to the ceiling, each one packed tight with books. Some were bound in cracked leather, their spines faded and peeling. Others looked newer, but no less important. The air carried that dry, familiar scent of paper and age, like stories had been breathing in here for decades, waiting for someone to listen. My eyes drifted to the walls.

It's the only thing keeping the world breathing. I looked at the high stone walls surrounding us, the roses blooming in the morning light, searching for a way to break free of the courtyard and into the world beyond.

But I froze in place. Something was…definitely different. My lips parted as I stepped inside the room. The entire left wall was now covered in its entirety by a massive, oak, wall to wall bookshelf. Every single cranny of it, crammed full with…textbooks.

She was not attacking the wall. That is the thing I keep returning to. She was not pressing against it or looking for the weak points or doing any of the things that I had always understood walls to be for. She was simply existing near it with her particular quality of warmth and her toast triangles and her cracked lullabies and her rose tattoo and the way she looked at Noé, and the wall was developing cracks entirely without her assistance, from the inside, which was something I had not built a structural plan for.

Sidia attempted to shove down the bubbling desire in her chest. The temptation to give in to her circumstances made her ache as she looked over the massive collection of books. The room itself was impressive as well. Nooks carved into the walls overflowed with cushions, a soft light with no discernible source made reading pleasant, and old tables stocked with parchment and ink made excellent study desks. This place was any scholar's dream, and a lump formed in Sidia's throat. She was overcome with emotion, not just from the war inside her mind but also from the sheer wonder of such a place.

Chapter 55 Author's POV She felt goosebumps looking at her surroundings. That building gave her creeps. It smelled like mosses. The walls were very tall. It looked dirty. The painting on the wall had been ripped here and there. The walls looked stained with redness. Was it a color? She thought. But that strong odor!!! She hated that smell!!! She knew it was blood. The walls were splashed red, showing the brutality of that place. It looked like so many people had been tortured here for death! She was sure now!

Shelves packed with books took up all the spaces on the walls, except for the wall where the window was and the one next to the bed, which had another mural painted. This time, a vast meadow. With grasses of the color yellow, orange, and green, covered the horizon, dusted with the gold of the setting sun. Further than that, trees that had become small due to the distance and perspective of the viewer aligned. Up above, birds flew, joyful and free, unraveling the sky that was slowly veiled by the shadows of the night. "You have a lot of books," She commented with a smile, "You'd definitely get along with my friends . . ." She trailed off, noticing the pillows on my bed. "What’s that?"

He loved adventure, but was never friends with thriller. Meanwhile, as they ate, Andy observed the room to see any sign of pictures or paintings, but the walls were free of any. The room was painted white, and the wall looked so smoothe one could think a spider would make a futile effort in trying to climb. There were shelves as well, with books strucked into them, neatly. Andy observed that most were on Physics — he was sure that this man, whoever it was that owned here, must have written billions of books on technologies. He was still feeding his eyes when an adjoining door burst open to reveal robots in rows of two marching their way. There was a significant gap between the two rows, and

Saying this, he pointed to everything around us, “my world.” The room where I had been confined was in fact a chamber, not a room. There were glass walls that created the illusion of a barrier. Condensation came out of it, keeping the interior cool. There was moss on the ground, which is why the smell was earthy, and the touch was padded.