Tower Of Return Novels & Stories

Thorne Tower had once been a beacon of the digital age a needle of glass and titanium that pierced the New York clouds. Now, it was a hollowed out monolith, its "Smart-Skin" flickering with the static of a dying grid. Without the Master Plate to regulate the city’s power, the tower’s artificial intelligence had devolved into a series of fractured, territorial sub routines.

"The Richard Tower wants its tax!" "The Tower is empty, Martha," I said, looking at the screens. The data was a mess of red-line errors. "The surplus you’re 'hoarding' is currently venting into the bedrock because your logic-gates are misaligned. You aren't winning a trade war; you’re melting your own heart." Caspian didn't wait for her permission. He dived under the main console, his hands moving with the practiced grace of a man who could speak to machines.

Any resemblance to real persons, places, or events is coincidental. Cover Art by Shannon Nemechek Marie Lavender © 2013, second edition published 2020, third edition published 2022. GoodNovel edition published 2025. Upon Your Return Book One of the Heiresses in Love Series Marie Lavender Dedication To the one I love – without you, this book might still be a work in progress. I will always be thankful for the chain of events that brought us together. Fate often guides two soul mates in the right direction to find each other.

Somewhere deep within the tower, the Nexus pulsed once more—peaceful. Watching. Waiting. Balanced again.

"I'll get it." Ignoring Amara's protest, trembling Iris made for the door, and reaching it, she said a short prayer and opened it. Her mouth dropped. For there lined up at her premises were the new royal soldiers. The soldiers and a strange red-haired man dressed in every shade of royalty led them. There were over five men on her terrace...no six...she thought freezing in shock when HE revealed himself from behind the red-head who was now smiling apologetically at her. "Forgive my intrusion." Red-head eyes glinted, "Lycan King Asher of Pack Astralis seeking your audience."

After a full day of marching through the monotonous and miserable landscape of the Bone Desert, they finally saw it. From behind the last mountain peak, the Obsidian Tower soared to the sky. It was not a building, but a curse frozen in stone. A colossal pillar of jet-black rock whose surface gleamed like wet glass, so tall its pointed peak pierced the purple clouds above. The tower seemed to absorb all light and hope from its surroundings, radiating an oppressive aura thick with pure evil. The aura it emitted alone was enough to make an ordinary cultivator fall to their knees from the spiritual pressure.

It was a roar that carried the weight of a thousand years of ancestral rage. “Girard?” I whispered, though I knew he couldn’t hear me. The thing standing in the center of the tower was no longer my husband. It was the Apex. A mountain of black fur and serrated bone, standing nearly eight feet tall. Its eyes were not amber or gold; they were voids of pure, electrical white. The air around him smelled of ozone and ancient earth. The heavy oak door finally gave way with a splintering crash. My father’s men rushed in, their silver-tipped rifles raised, their faces masked in tactical gear. They had come prepared for a wolf. They were not prepared for a god of carnage.

A sudden tremor interrupted his thoughts. The entire tower shook. Hard. The group immediately looked upward. The heartbeat returned. BOOM. Closer. Much closer. Dust drifted from the ceiling. The glowing map flickered. Outside the tower, something roared. The sound wasn't loud. It didn't need to be. The noise carried a terrible weight. A presence. A certainty. The Devourer had reached the city. Ava's hand instinctively found her weapon. Cassian's expression darkened.

Cowardice looked like kindness when you turned it in the right light. His phone buzzed again—Ty, voice only. “Jack, I’ve got an anomaly. The burner Nox gave Stacey hit three towers and ghosted. The mid-hop tower services Embassy Row. The signature feels… curated.” “Curated how?” “Like someone’s showing us a card they want us to see.” “Keep the thread,” Jack said. “Don’t pull. Not yet.” “Copy.” He killed the call, and for a long breath let the cold push into his lungs until it cleared the static.

They even managed to take out the signal. The others had been doing nothing but dialing on their phones or trying to send their last messages to their loved ones. For Raeya, she didn't even bother to check for her that as soon as Leison's telepathy was cut off, she knew it was not a simple down system of the signal towers but it was the work of magic. No wonder why Hearth wrote those last two words after the festival attack. WE WIN. Hearth wasn't talking about the Festival but about how they had successfully divided their attention and workforce by sending soldiers and warriors to protect the boundaries of Khenealm.