Uncharted 4 Elena Fisher Novels & Stories

She burst through the side door, emerging into the cold night air, her eyes frantically scanning for any sign of the fourth man. There—a figure disappearing into the trees at the edge of the factory grounds. Elena gave chase, her legs burning as she sprinted after him, the sounds of gunfire fading behind her. She couldn’t let him escape. Not after everything they’d been through, everything they’d sacrificed. She was closing the distance now, her breath coming in ragged gasps as the figure ahead of her slowed, glancing back. It was him. The fourth man. The architect of their nightmares. He darted into a clearing, and as Elena followed, she realized too late that it was another trap. A group o

Frank watched as the girls told their mothers goodbye and raced out to the open field. "Now we have a lot to talk about Franklin, beginning with why you helped save my daughter." The woman stepped closer crossing her arms over her chest. The warm smile from earlier is now gone. Chills ran down his spine as her eyes began to glimmer. He felt frozen in place as he watched her eyes change color before returning to beautiful emerald green. "And?" A younger-looking James stepped forward grabbing her hand. "We're not alone. The plan goes as discussed. Claire, Ivan with the children. I fear our time has run out." Frank didn’t have time to ask questions before he knew it he was being pulled outside

Elena hadn't just moved into the city; she had moved into the sea. The water erupted in a massive plume of white spray as a localized electromagnetic pulse threw the Arbitrator back. Alexander looked down into the dark water and saw her. Elena wasn't a girl anymore, and she wasn't a ghost. She was a shimmering, translucent figure of pure light, moving through the depths with a grace that made the Black-Sun Units look like lead weights. She surfaced beside the skiff, her hand a delicate, glowing construction of data and water reaching out to touch the side of the boat.

Elena suddenly smiled strangely. She glanced at Killian who was chatting and laughing downstairs, then suddenly grabbed my wrist. "Halen, if I jump from here, do you think Killian will save me or kill you?" "Are you crazy? This is the high seas!" Before I could shake her off. Elena suddenly screamed: "Ah—! Halen, don't push me! Help!" Immediately after, she unhesitatingly flipped over the railing, falling into the bone-chillingly cold seawater like a kite with a broken string.

And when her consciousness wandered here, the next picture jumped into her mind was how she ran into the sea, chasing the fish boat carrying Bella. It was dark that night, and the water was so cold. She swam forward desperately. The sea water kept pouring into her mouth as if she was forced to drink bitter tears. “Be--Bella!” She never stopped calling, but the boat was getting further, and further. Holding her breath, she planned to dive into the water, hoping to catch up with it. However, a big wave came head-on. She was swallowed into the whirl. At the same time, outside of her nightmare, Elena choked and coughed so suddenly and badly. "Honey?" Archer was startled and the next second, she

He never should have trusted them with a person like Ian. He was still in thought when his phone buzzed, he looked down to see that he had received a text from Ian. Hastily, he opened it and found a video. His heart began thumping as he clicked play. Immediately Elena's face came into view, her lips were torn and bleeding as she screamed. She was hanging freely on a crane that continuously lowered her towards the sea, She wriggled her legs but her hands were tied to the crane that slowly pushed her down. Elena struggled and in the background, Julia laughed.

The water was already churning, rising through the floor-grates as the seals failed. "In! Get in!" Kazimir pushed Jun and Mina toward the narrow hatch of the Nautilus-7, a deep-sea escape vessel designed for extreme depths. Elara was the last to enter. She looked back at the corridor. Vane was there, struggling to his feet, his face twisted in a mask of pure hatred. He didn't fire his rifle. He just watched them, knowing that the Reaper sub above was now free of its clamps and would be waiting for them in the dark.

Lyra’s POV “I still can’t believe you turned down Kelvin Clarke,” Maya said for the third time as we worked on mending fishing nets down by the lake. “The man is gorgeous.” “I didn’t turn him down,” I pointed out. “Jadis did.” “Right, but if it had been me…” She fanned herself dramatically with her hand. “Those shoulders, those eyes, that smile.” “Down, girl,” laughed Elena, one of the other unmated females in our age group. “You’re practically drooling.”

“The cameras near the warehouse were damaged, but we recovered footage from the upper checkpoint. You need to see this.” He pressed play. The screen showed the docks at night. Three men were moving near the trucks, their faces blurred by the grainy light. Then, another figure appeared—smaller, standing at a distance, giving instructions. The camera zoomed in. Elena. She was wearing a dark coat, with her hair tied up, her face clear as day. She pointed at the trucks, spoke to the men, and then walked away. A few minutes later, the trucks drove toward the river.

"Didn't mean to crowd you." She shook her head. "It's fine." But her heart was racing. Not from attraction. From something else. Something she couldn't name. --- They worked in silence for a while. The afternoon light shifted, turned gold. Dust motes danced in the sunbeams. Marcus set a large canvas on an easel, stepped back to study it. "This one should be the centerpiece," he said. Elena looked at the painting. It was the woman at the edge of the sea, the one she had started years ago, the one she had finished after the date test. The woman's face was turned toward the horizon. Her shoulders were relaxed. Her hands were open.