Til Death Rings Novels & Stories

He liked the warm glow it was casting. Eliza walked into the middle of the room. She was dressed in ceremonial gold robes. A large moonstone studded in ornate gold chain hung in her neck. It had been her father's ring. Rodney looked at the ring, he found it funny that she was wearing her dead father's ring. Just a few hours back, it adorned her dead father's cold body. Rodney smiled as he thought about the look in Richard's eyes when he died.

But I couldn't help myself. "Repeat after me," the officiant says, eager to get his part over with. "I Dalia Shaw take you Jaden Baker to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, in poverty and in richness, to adore and revere you till death do us part," I repeat after him. "You may exchange the wedding rings," I slide his ring down his middle finger. He starts with the engagement ring I never got and finishes with the wedding ring. I hate how perfectly they fit me. Like they were made just for me.

Two days since Nonna Carmela walked down the valley road with my translation folded into her apron hem, and the silence that has followed is the loudest thing I have ever heard. I press my palm flat against the open page. The paper is thin from being handled too many times, the purple ink of Giovanni Randazzo's stamp bleeding through from the other side. I have memorized every number, every letter, every stroke of the initial T that condemns a man I have met only once and understood completely in that single hour. The authorization for Lorenzo's death sits on my lap like an animal that has finally stopped breathing, and I am the one who killed it.

he says. "Three nights short of the full," agrees the Pale, "and a silver runs on embers at the dark of the moon and does not get it back for a fortnight, and your Warden has nothing in her at all, and she is the one who has to close the far end." My mate's face smiles at all of us. "You are early. You cannot wait, because the boy is going out and I am eating her, and you know both of those things. So you are going to do it anyway, tonight, on an empty moon." He leans forward. "Nine died on ring eight," he says. "Shall we see how many you buy this time?"

Echoes of Resurrection The silence in Black Hollow felt heavier than usual. John stood at the edge of the ruined altar, his shirt torn, blood soaking through the fabric. Sarah’s grip on his hand tightened as the moon flickered behind heavy clouds, casting ghostlike shadows across the valley. They had made it through another night but something had changed. The air was colder. Behind them, the priestess’s final words still echoed: “He was never dead. Only sealed.” John turned to face her tomb, where her spirit had faded moments ago, leaving nothing but ash and a faint pulse in the ground.

"You okay?" I shook my head. "No." We didn’t need to say more. Turtela was with the children, helping them light candles and place them along the long path leading to the Ring of Farewell, the ceremonial ring we used only for the most revered souls. Jackson and Jermaine stood flanking Alexia, who clutched a white lily in both hands, her eyes swollen but dry. She didn’t speak either. This was one of those moments when words simply failed.

I manage to say and the last of Cordy's reserve cracks as her body shakes with unexpressed grief. "No," she shakes her head. "I refuse to believe it. There has to be a way," her eyes are brightly passionate. "I almost woke her up twice before. This time, this time I know I can..." Simultaneously, all three of our phones beep. "No..." Cordelia repeats before Atlas even begins reading the message, the same message I have on my phone as well. "Tilly passed away five minutes ago," Atlas reports, his voice flat. "Her heart stopped."

I tried to focus on them, but the world blurred, spinning like I was looking through a broken kaleidoscope. It became too quiet. Too muffled. I knew Veronica was still screaming, Dad was still mourning, the doctor still talking. Why couldn't I hear a thing? "Rali!" A voice cut through the distortion, though it was warped and distant, like it had to travel through water to reach me. Gretchen Stone and Alex Stone—dead. Tasmin Hayes—dead. The world tilted as the ground rose up to meet me. Oh. It was me going down to meet the ground. And there were no hands waiting to catch me.

Marcus explained. “That’s true.” The ring that this man wore had the same drawing as on the ring of the man that Rhea described but their figures were different. This one seemed to be smaller than whom Rhea had described. The question now was why these two people were interacting with each other? From how they were moving, it was clear that the both of them knew each other. “Where is he now?” I inquired. “Dead. Stabbed on the stomach multiple times in an alleyway that he frequently passed through.”

About to leave, a sparkling ring… too familiar. It's stoned just as I know it to be. And there’s only one person with so. No. No. No. In denial, I kneel beside the body, ignoring the voices of everyone behind me. Reaching for the ring, I pick it up, eyes scanning the rusty band. Tears freely flow down my cheeks and I don't hold them back, so do my emotions shatter. This can't be the end… this just can't be the end. My Valerie.