Under The Oak Tree Novel 121 Novels & Stories

Nova smiled. “The Cassie & Damon Legacy Sanctuary.” After the unveiling, the crowd lit candles, one by one, and circled the oak tree like they had for generations. The tree glowed, the roots bathed in gold, the wind wrapping itself around old names and new stories. Grace whispered into the air: “Still us. Always.” Late into the night, Nova sat at the base of the oak tree alone, journal in her lap. She wrote: Tonight, I saw the fire come home.

"I have my eyes on you" I scoffed. What is it with this witch? Her eyes on me? I can't believe her gut. But then again, what does Jo's mean. "I know what happens beneath The Oak." The compound was popularly known as The Oak. We have the Lady of the oak who was Sumaya, as well as the princes of the Oak. The servants and the slaves of the Oak who were also known as the Oak's commodity. But how could anyone claim to know what happens beneath The Oak? It sounds absurd. Especially the fact that their couldn't be anything beneath the plantation or the numerous chambers.

The time I was wasting. Evans was still out there. I straightened and stepped over the unconscious outlaws, looking around. I noticed it then. A tree. In the center of the clearing, there was a single, enormous oak. The wood underneath was scarred with something that made my stomach turn, and its bark was split. Blood. Not merely splashed. Not merely smeared. **Sculpted.** Three sharp, deep phrases that seemed to have been sunk like inhuman claws into the wood.

The path beneath their feet grew uneven, the forest growing thicker and more ancient as they walked, until they arrived at the base of the oldest oak tree in Valenwood. The massive oak towered above them, its gnarled branches stretching out like protective arms, creating a canopy that filtered the moonlight. Caius stopped beneath the tree, his shoulders tense as he exhaled a slow breath. Lira stood beside him, unsure of what to say, the weight of the prophecy hanging between them.

"But I love you." "I know." "That is enough." "Yes. It is." --- November turns into December. The cold gets colder. The dark gets darker. The days get shorter. The roses do not come back. They will not come back for months. But the oak tree stands. Bare and brown and beautiful. The oak tree does not care about the cold. The oak tree knows something the roses do not. The oak tree knows that winter is not the end. Winter is just the thing that comes before spring.

Leonardo provided. "The oak tree in the midst of the pines," Hazel muttered as a memory flashed in her mind at those words. After a few minutes of pondering, her eyes widened as she realized what the clue was. "It's the oak tree in the middle of the large pine field, horses' hooves printed on the soaked ground on a rainy day, blood-red moon. The earth has been hurt, or is Mother Moon mourning for her dead children?" she began. "While many sleep, the earth weeps. What a sorrowful night. As the unknown enemy works in the darkness of the night. Under the large oak tree lies the secret to her salvation. But then again, it also holds the power to her damnation."

Oak never thought, he would become this much weak to a point where he started crying embarrassingly. He cried until he felt a little relieved. Then he closed his book and stood up from the chair. He went to his bed and lied down. Again he was thinking about the memories he shared with Phet. Phet told him, he would wait for him but he moved on so fast. Oak couldn't help but shed more tears and wipe them away furiously.

The man said weakly as he held out his hand. As everyone minus Jill reached out their hands to help him a smile creeped up on his face and Jill knowing something bad would happen and couldn’t stop it in time so she grabbed his hand as well and, in a flash, they were gone. The box itself that Jill was worried about had also disappeared and in a sudden flash of lightning the great infamous oak tree of Oaken Hills was struck.

“He hasn’t released me.” “He will.” The certainty in her tone leaves no room for doubt. “What if he never does?” Her head tilts slightly. “He will.” Silence hums between us. “Where?...Where can i find you?” I ask. The clearing shifts. The trees blur and rearrange. The vision expands outward like a map unfurling. I see forest stretching westward denser, darker. A narrow trail barely visible beneath overgrowth. A river cutting through stone. Then a massive oak tree. Its trunk is split clean down the center, blackened along the jagged seam as if lightning once struck it from sky to root. The top half leans precariously but still lives, branches heavy with leaves.

The girl I put through ten years of school stood up at her own graduation and thanked me in front of everyone. A second later, three translucent lines appeared in front of my eyes. [She will steal the Prescott family's trade secrets, start her own company, and turn on you.] [She will publish an essay and put the internet on your family. Your wife will die of a heart attack.] [Prescott Logistics will fold. The estate will go to auction. You will die in front of the men you owe.] I stared at her. "Vanessa. Have you spent all these years filing away everything we did for you as a reason to hate us?" She blinked at me, wide-eyed and innocent. That was when I understood. The snake was al