White Nights By Fyodor Dostoevsky Novels & Stories

Chapter 131: The White Horizon The white fire did not burn with the familiar, hungry crackle of mountain timber; it screamed with the mechanical fury of compressed gasses. Natalia stood at the absolute apex of the pier, her bare feet anchored into the salt-crusted stone pavers that were already vibrating with the concussive force of the imperial dreadnought's main turret. The light hitting her face was blinding, a brilliant, unnatural magnesium glare that bleached the rolling harbor fog into a sickening shade of pale violet. Twenty paces ahead, the solid granite of the eastern pier was actively liquefying. The stone didn't turn to ash; it transformed into a bubbling, iridescent river of molt

Which again was a deeply concerning personality trait. The mansion felt quieter during the daytime somehow. The silence stretched around me heavily as I moved farther away from the occupied sections of the estate. Then finally, I reached it. The dark corridor. There was no way for light to come through. Unlike the rest of the mansion, no sunlight reached here. I hesitated briefly. “This is how white people die in horror movies,” I whispered. I pulled out my phone before turning on the flashlight. The beam cut through darkness slowly. Dust floated visibly through the air and cobwebs stretched across corners untouched for what looked like years.

"Everyone knows the Rivera girl is a rare white wolf. Her pups will be top-tier Alphas, every single one. Whoever mates her becomes the future Alpha King." "And look at her—the Moon Goddess must've carved her by hand." "A wolf like that, blood like that, Is Damian insane?" "Poor Rivera girl. Her own mate doesn't even want her." The whispers circled. Everyone was certain I'd name Damian—they'd all seen how badly I'd fallen for him. In my last life, I worshiped Damian as my savior. White wolves are rare, which means my life was never peaceful. I got snatched by rogues once.

The third toll caused the spinning brass plates beneath Anaya’s feet to lock into place with a definitive, thunderous clack. The white light expanded exponentially, rushing outward from Christ Church like a silent, blinding tsunami. It washed over Vikram, over Devashish, and finally engulfed Anaya, erasing the distorted buildings, the warped roads, and the impossible numbers of the thirteenth hour in an absolute, purifying sheet of white illumination. There was no pain, no heat—only the sensation of a massive weight being lifted from the world, and the steady, rhythmic ticking of a single, healthy heart. ------------------------------

It sounded like the turning of the very first page ever written. A warm wind rose from the endless abyss. It carried no scent. No dust. Only memories. Millions of them. Adrian suddenly saw countless lives flash before his eyes. A child writing his first poem. An old woman finishing the final chapter of her diary. A lonely traveler sketching forgotten cities. A soldier writing one last letter before dawn. Every story... Every dream... Every unfinished thought... Flowed through the endless darkness below. The white feather in Adrian's hand began glowing. Its light pushed back the shadows surrounding the staircase.

❤️ And Memory Ilyaan felt a strange warmth inside his soul. ⸻ As if someone had finally found him. ⸻ 🌙 The Woman In White A light appeared. ✨ Small at first. Then larger. Brighter. Warmer. ⸻ Until reality itself became white. 🌌 ⸻ And from within that light… A woman emerged. ❤️ Simple white clothes. Silver hair. Gentle eyes. A peaceful smile. 🌙 ⸻ She didn’t look like a goddess. She didn’t look like the creator of reality.

His wife, Iliana Granger, was Adrian's bitch of a mother, so we knew now that it was our little white Dove that we were on our way to claim. The name white dove had come from my mother, Nina. She said her coos always reminded her of a dove, and her soft white hair was as white as snow, and since then, the name White Dove had stuck. My mother was more of a mum to the five Vassilev children, and it broke her when Vi was taken, she felt like her own daughter had been taken from her. Their mother didn’t give a shit about the family; she just wanted the money and the lifestyle that came with being a part of the mafia. She had never been much of a mother to her children, and she was so jealous whe

“The frost.” I swallowed. “You make it sound alive.” They gave me a look that said I hadn’t been paying attention. “It is. Everything that grows, hungers. Everything that withers, hungers too.” That night, I dreamed of the white-haired man. He stood at the gate, hands at his sides, his pale gold eyes fixed on me. He didn’t speak, but behind him the other six waited in shadow. When I reached for the latch, the frost climbed the bars, sealing it shut between us.

----------------- People say I act like I don't care. It's not an act. -Marcel. ------------------- Dolores fell asleep, but after a while, she suddenly woke up, this time she wasn't in the antique room of the ghost mansion...but the colour white surrounding her in all directions...feeling a little frightened, Dolores quickly distracted herself by looking around. It was entirely white in her sight. There was no sound, no trace of life. It was deathly still, Dolores observed her surroundings and found that she was the only one here. It was too quiet, eerily quiet.

The dragon of darkness shattered into pieces, exploded in the sky and the spirits that had been sucked by the darkness dragon scattered to attack their bodies. The spirits returned to their bodies exactly. The sparkling white light entered the human body and luckily it was a vampire army, and Yasashi returned to being a human. I witnessed the miracle, it was incredible that the white light sparkling like a shooting star returned to their bodies. I even saw the four princes in the sky, the four of them took out the dragon of darkness and it was amazing.