Trailing Stars Novels & Stories

Star rolled her eyes and stood up, though suppressing her laugh. "Tristan, do you want to help me buy a new book?" She asked, smiling warmly at him. Tristan's teary eyes instantly lit up with excitement. Nothing can dampen his mood now. "Why don't you get your jacket, I'll let you drive out of the street," "Yes!" He shrieked, jumping to his feet.

No one can rewrite the stars How can you say you'll be mine? Everything keeps us apart And I'm not the one you were meant to find It's not up to you, it's not up to me, yeah When everyone tells us what we can be And how can we rewrite the stars? Say that the world can be ours, tonight We sing the last verse together to each other. Our eyes battling and fighting. Our souls uniting. There's no return as I let go there and now. All I want is to fly with you All I want is to fall with you

"What star were you born under, girl? That's awesome freaking luck." I blinked. "Draco. Specifically Triplex Rising. What star were you born under?" All three of my men inhaled sharply as Drace laughed softly. "I think Drace was being humorous, Hollyn," Ari said. "But it would make sense that all four of you were born under Triplex Rising." I looked at my grandmother. "How do you know what star they were born under?" Ari laughed. "Because I'm the goddess of the night sky. Stars are my domain."

Where love, fierce, stubborn, and everlasting, was the foundation of it all. I turned to Helios, finding in his golden eyes the same wonder I felt. "We're not done," I murmured. He smiled, a slow, aching thing. "No," he agreed. "We're just getting started." The twins came barreling out onto the balcony then, Elira dragging Kaelen by the hand. "Look, Mama!" Lyra cried, pointing to the night sky. Kael grinned. "Two shooting stars!" I laughed, gathering them both into my arms. Two stars. Two lights. Two hopes. Ours. Always ours.

The Song of the Stars The night was vast and endless, a dome of shimmering constellations spread across the horizon like a celestial tapestry. The cool breeze carried with it the scent of wildflowers and the whisper of leaves, a symphony that seemed to echo the stillness that followed the storm of recent events. Lyra stood at the cliff’s edge, her cloak dancing with the wind as she gazed into the distance where the first traces of dawn began to paint the horizon in hues of violet and gold.

The world was safe. But then, a star fell. Not just one—dozens of them, streaking across the sky, heading toward the horizon. They were not ordinary stars. They glowed with a faint, golden light, the same as the key. Cole’s brow furrowed. He felt the key pulse in his hand, responding to the falling stars. “What is it?” Lila asked. He looked at the horizon, where the last of the stars had disappeared. And in the distance, he saw a glow. A faint, golden glow, coming from beyond the sea.

She gently traced my tombstone and whispered, "You are the starlight that vanished from my sky." Finally, my soul began to fade. Thank you, my sister.

This smile comforted nobody in the room, but the dice had already been cast, "Then we will accept your proposal." Verra stood to her feet in excitement, outstretched both her hands and declared boldly, "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Falling Stardust Trading Company."

“Coming Mum.“ I yelled for the umpteenth time, but didn't move an itch from the worn-out marble floor I laid. My gaze was still fixed on the small television which was just few metres away from me, with my chin on my hands for support. Excitement had the best of me and nothing else seemed to matter at the moment. It was that period of time that comes every year when the 'Greygott conglomeration' makes an exemption for a lower-class to get admitted into the prestigious Greygott high-shool. They make a pick from the application letters sent by over a thousand lower-class kids. It's somewhat pathetic that such number of persons struggle to get just one position. But on a second thought, you can

Gabriel had dropped a billion-dollar deal in New York, ordering his men to trail her until he could reach London on his private jet. Miguel and Rafael had been right behind Calleigh yesterday afternoon when she’d left the private clinic in Harley Street. They’d watched her tuck her long, glossy dark hair beneath a silk scarf, put on big black sunglasses and white driving gloves, and drive away in her silver Aston Martin convertible. Right into a red postbox on the sidewalk.