White Fire Book Novels & Stories

Black flame on far bank, two branches now burning, one lit with brown blood and collared White blood from Elder Selene, second branch just lit with more White blood from cold boxes that Council keeps from taken Whites, two black cold flames fifty meters tall each, merging into one huge black cold flame eighty meters tall that reached toward northern lights and tried to drink them, black smoke sinking thick like fog, covering half lake, trying to drink White ice I had made with full anointing. White ice held, but black flame was taller than before, and where black smoke touched White ice that was old, from Mara time, old White ice cracked a little, because old White ice was made by half anoin

“They want the heir. And they want you. For your blood. For the power it holds.” Elara’s scar burned, and she thought of Eleanor’s words: “The fire is born of light. Of blood.” “What do we do?” she said. “Embrace it.” The witch held out a leather-bound book, identical to Eleanor’s journals. “This belonged to your mother. She knew this day would come. Knew the fire would need a Voss to guide it.” Elara took the book, her fingers brushing the cover—embossed with a phoenix, just like the others. Inside, her mother’s handwriting, neat and precise:

The goddess must hate me for some reason. Wiping the thought from my mind, my eyes land on the only fictional book in the stack. I am actually a “facts over fiction” kind of girl usually. But, this time, I find myself choosing otherwise. Maybe it’s time for a change. Running my fingers across the cover and staring at the fiery red dragon, I am suddenly reminded of Millie. Goddess, Millie!

Lucia almost smiled. Outside the apartment, Chicago moved through its grey December morning, and somewhere in the city a careful man was waking up to another day of managing a structure that had, without his knowledge, just acquired a crack in its foundation, and somewhere else a frightened woman and her daughter were about to be given the chance to disappear into safety for the first time in years. The walls Whitfield had built, Sienna thought, watching Dante and Lucia continue working behind her while she made the first calls, were starting to come down.

I say frowning. “No. The Great Clash was elf against elf.” I stare at the sentence in front of me. I’ve become so used to living with hybrids that it totally escaped me. “Then, what is this reference to fire?” “What?” Yhen says, setting aside his own studies and scooting closer to me on the couch. “Right here. It’s the only reference I remember seeing and I didn’t think about it when I read it before because you have my fire. It just dawned on me that there is no reference to dragons, so how does an elf have fire?”

Neither option comforted me, but being the White Wolf wasn't about comfort. I would have to speak with Axton first to hear what he has to say about it. His perspective had a way of grounding me, even when I didn't want to admit it. Once I got home, I grabbed the books Axton had brought me and carefully went through them one after another. The pages were old and smelled faintly like dust and pine, probably a result of being kept in the library for decades. I read slowly at first, scanning for anything that caught my attention, then faster when the information became repetitive.

My body becomes enveloped in a burst of flames, and the fire spreads from my skin and causes an expulsion as soon as it got close to the gas tank across the room. THE END.

It spread quickly, fire crawling up the walls, curling the stained wallpaper and charring the ceiling. Pausing a moment, Vergel tapped an earbud, swaying to the beat as he watched the pretty show. When the fire was licking at his boots, he finally returned to the creature and kicked it, hard, in the ribs. At the satisfying crack of bones, Vergel smiled cruelly, then bent and hoisted it over his shoulder. Whistling merrily, he walked out of the blazing house and got back on his bike.

Alice snapped Kingston roll his eyes and walked away from her sight “You really won’t say anything about It?” Alice asked Kingston didn’t say a word “Fine,,goodbye” Alice said and turned back She walked away Kingston fold his fists angrily,,his hands which was placed on the table started bringing out some flames of fire,,his eyes and hair turning red. The table was almost catching fire when the door opened again and Alice c@m£ in “I c@m£ to take my book,,,,” she st©pped when she saw Kingston and her eyes wi-de-ned

I was so lucky to have such a funny uncle. Sitting in my hotel bathroom I light another cigarette. I had quit smoking many times but whenever my stress would rise, I would start up again. There were times that I would be so stressed that I would chain smoke until I threw up. Remembering this part of my life might bring me to having one of these times. I go into the main area of the hotel room and grab another bottle of champagne. Afterall, coming to terms with my past should be a celebration of freedom should it not? I sit in the chair that looks out onto the main street. Outside people are laughing and celebrating on a busy Friday night. Many of these people are drunk and simple live in a h