White Nights By Fyodor Dostoevsky Novels & Stories

Russia swallowed us whole in white. The cold was sharp and alive, the kind that bit into my cheeks and turned every breath into a little cloud. Snow stretched endlessly in every direction, untouched and blinding, and somehow that made everything feel lighter. Like the past could not follow us this far north. Like grief needed a visa it hadn’t been granted. Bibi fell first. Flat on her back. Arms spread wide. Staring up at the sky like it had personally betrayed her. “I have been attacked,” she announced solemnly.

Rylan's POV When I finally woke, it was already noon. My first thought was to strangle Cassia. I was Shadow Pack's Alpha-sharp, calculating. No one had ever managed to outsmart me. No one had ever gotten the upper hand on me. And yet somehow, I'd been played by Cassia. An omega. Fury burned through me. I scanned the room, but she was gone. Even her luggage had disappeared. A strange unease gripped me-then pain slammed into my chest as if something had been ripped straight from my heart.

But he had never seen such a dog before, it was powerful, with muscles all over its body, very light white fur, and red at the corners of its mouth, clearly just bitten someone. Edwin opened the door and saw that there were already seven or eight people lying in the yard, all with their hands bitten off. Most of them had passed out, except for one who was still struggling to stay conscious. Randy was overwhelmed by the grand scene last night and still feels a bit nauseous now. If Lena were the King of Hell, this fool would be the Black and White Impermanence. There wasn't a single normal person. "Ugh..." He vomited twice, wiped his mouth, and stared at Edwin warily.

For the next fifteen minutes silence enveloped the car. Even though it's still 4 a.m. and darkness still covers Manhattan, people are already starting to do their activities. Some were opening their shops, some had just returned from the club with their tired and half drunk faces. This city never sleeps. "Why did you call Dostov with Konstantin?" I asked in the lowest voice so as not to disturb Nick. As usual Alice waited for a moment before answering me, as if she had to decide something important before answering. "Dostov stands for Dostoevskij"

~ Seraphina ~ The van screeched to a halt in front of the warehouse. The Volkov Syndicate’s den loomed like a rusted carcass on Veridia’s edge, its walls breathing menace. Whiteheads waited outside—short-haired wolves, soldiers of the pack. They swarmed us before the engine even cut. Eyes pale as winter, faces blank as stone. Toro’s hand clenched the steering wheel so tight it creaked. “Boss lady… rethink this. You walk in, you don’t walk out.”

[The Silence of the Stone] The world didn’t end with a scream. It ended with a breath—his breath, hitched and shallow, ghosting against the hollow of my throat before the light took everything. I woke up in the white. It wasn’t the sterile white of a Macau lab or the blinding white of the spire’s overload. It was the soft, muffled white of a mountain winter. The snow was falling again, thick and indifferent, burying the charred remains of the obsidian needle beneath a blanket of cold mercy.

The white light that had exploded from my body didn’t bring peace. It brought a terrifying clarity. As the glare faded, the courtyard of the Silver-Moon Fortress looked like a vision from a dying god’s nightmare. The snow was no longer white; it was stained with the black, oily bile of the Elders. The Northern wolves who hadn't been swallowed by the sludge were whimpering, clawing at their own throats as if they could feel the invisible worms I had seen—the parasitic threads that bound their lives to the monsters on the stairs.

“So what's the truth about you? A descent doesn't just show up. Who are you and why are you here?” “You think I willingly let myself be brought here? To live below what every basic wolf deserves? The only thing I would really love right now is to leave here. You all claim the white wolves are so weak, why is everyone threatened by my presence?” Nate tried to withhold his laughter but he failed “You think anyone here is threatened by you?” “You all have given me no reason to think otherwise.” “Tomorrow night by the creek. You'll find what you need.”

After the door was opened, the first thing he noticed was how the lady in the black dress extended her hand to whoever was in the car. He noticed a hand clasping the lady in black's hand and one bare leg coming out and landing on the ground, followed by the other. Finally, he saw the entire body emerge from the car, and what he saw nearly caused him to pass out. At the same time, he was startled and shocked. The rumor appeared to be true; there was indeed a white witch in the club. As he had expected, the woman in the white limousine was more beautiful than the lady in black.

The air became silent, and still, no one moved. It had been the talk for the past few days. Something from the past had returned. Something with perilous intent for all of mankind. Her father's soldiers had been sent forth across the sea to battle these things, these whispers, and while everyone was scared to say it, they knew it was a failed voyage, and none of those men were fated to return. Not with the bodies the waves kept washing daily to the coast. The soldiers had been graced with the powers of the Whites, an untold force that was meant to keep them alive, but no one believed that was even a thing. Because they hadn't seen it used. But hell was about to break loose. And this danger,