Twilight Ship Novels & Stories

I whisper as I fall asleep. He chuckles lightly as his fingers still dance over my belly. "I love you, too, Marrallyn," he whispers against my neck. Christmas Eve morning is an overcast, dreary day with lots of snow falling. The light dusting of snow is very beautiful on the tree branches, especially the pine trees. I glance at Jason as I stand out of bed. He's still sleeping. Good. Now I can wrap his jacket and the baby clothes in a box for tomorrow. Shelbie is wrapping the gift from her and I. I wrap his present and as I was putting the silver bow on the top, I feel Jason's hand slide up my back into my hair where he scraps gently at my scalp.

​The middle chapters of any war are not written in blood, but in sweat, iron, and the relentless, mechanical thrum of preparation. For the fourteen days following the Council of the Four Winds, the Mother-Hive island transformed from a quiet emerald sanctuary into a global, biological factory. The peace of the "Apex Orchard" was replaced by the rhythmic, tectonic pounding of the Fire-Smithies, who had moved their primary forges deep into the ship's old plasma-reactors. They weren't using coal or wood; they were tapping directly into the ship’s organic-mercury core, using the raw, gold-tinted energy of the twins to smelt a substance that had never existed in the history of the Seven Peaks: Tw

He knew in an instant that it was Travis's ship. A three mass ship with dark sails. It was the complete opposite of The Morning Star. It was dark. Even the wood the ship was made out of was darker. It's dark sails had a white crescent moon with a small silver star that dangled off the end of the moon. It looked haunting as it sailed towards the open ocean. Ghostly against the dark sky. Gavin's throat felt like it was closing as he watched it.

One, drifting slowly to starboard, appeared to be carved from teeth. In the center stood the Crucible Spire. A tower of rusted metal, draped in seaweed and stitched sails, rising straight from the sea like a nail in the world’s heart. Maya gripped the dagger tighter. “We're here,” she said. “The Sixth Tide: The Betrayer’s Wake.” --- As they rowed through the graveyard, voices echoed from ship to ship. Some cried for forgiveness. Some laughed. Some simply repeated names—over and over—names Maya didn’t recognize… until she did.

Meeting: Rowling stood at the bow of the ship watching the cliff as the pulled into Raven’s Peak two other ships trailed behind him. Rowling's ship was a deep dark cherrywood, he had liked the cherry color of it because it reminded him of blood stained wood. He wanted the fear aspect to be in everything he did. His sails were a deep dark blood red and his personal flag was white with a sword hanging above a headless man’s body. He even named the ship Trepidation. It was written on the side of the ship in deep dark bold letters.

It reached out its metal hand and drove its fingers straight through the deck, wrapping them around the main propeller shaft. The ship didn't just list; it broke in two. The forward half, where Elara hung from the iron anchor-housing was left floating on the rising tide of the porcelain hands fingers. The stern section, carrying the steering platform and the Regent plummeted into the wake. "Elara!" Damon’s voice boomed out from the interior of the petrified logs. "The wall is coming down! The Queen isn't holding the basin. She's dropping the ceiling!" Above them, through the gaps in the purple sulfur clouds, the high canopy of copper-wire grids began to descend.

"At forty‍-five knots, a su⁠dden downward a​djustment in this specific surf won't save them. The​ incoming swell will do the res‍t." Thro‌ugh‍ the d‍arkness, the fai⁠nt, high-‌pitche⁠d whine of modified mari​ne turbine​s b​egan to echo over the r‍oar of the‍ breakin⁠g surf.‍ I raised my digital optics, tracki‍ng t‍he two dark silh‌ouet​tes​ of the vanguard's b‍oats a‍s the​y en​tere‌d t​he thr​oat of the channel. They were running compl‍etely dark,⁠ r​elying​ on night-vision a‍nd thermal HUD⁠s t‌o navi‌gate the treacherous‌ waters. They h‌ad no idea they​ were running str‌aight into a m‍athem‌aticall⁠y absolut​e tra​p.

[The Cradle of Shadows] The Vane interceptor groaned as it banked sharply away from the Highlands Vault, its thrusters screaming in protest against the manual override. Below them, the fleet of black gunships—Lucien’s personal hounds—scattered like startled crows, their formation broken by the sudden, erratic maneuver of the courier ship.

Waking up today wasn’t my intention. I had a long day ahead of me and of course, I’m always the one who has to work hard. I wasn’t an adopted child, I wasn’t a stepdaughter, but I had an annoying twin sister. Veronica Summers, my identical twin was the opposite of me. She was pampered more by my mum and dad and always caused trouble - of course, I’m always the one to be blamed.

"We have no time for this—" She stopped in mid-sentence when she pushed through the salal, nothing appeared on her face. Just darkness against the helpless light from her flashlight. She froze and looked around, hoping she could spot whatever the cause of the peculiar shuffling. "Charlie—" She almost fell to the ground when she advanced a step, something hard blocked her foot. Furious at the bump, she focused her flashlight on the mysterious thing. At first, she couldn't process the image well in her brain. She suspected that it might be a toy, a piece of mannequin that was disturbingly left there.