World War One Novel Novels & Stories

"I don't care about the cost! I want her dead! I want the Icarus code!" The war was no longer about stones or fashion. It was about survival. And Liora Thorne had just shown the world that she was the ultimate survivor. END OF CHAPTER 13....

Damien said. The door clicked open then, the cold, white light from the hotel corridor flooding the suite for a fraction of a second before the heavy timber swung shut, leaving Elias alone in the dark with the sound of the rain hitting the Bund and the realization that the war was finally over—not because someone had won, but because the field had been burned to the absolute bone.

He sighed and looked at me with a small frown before shrugging and turning to boil some water for noodles. “What was one of the hardest times to live through?” “Almost every time I came back to stay on Earth, I mostly stayed in Europeand oftentimes I could only be a spectator, watching historical events the moment they happened. Not realizing the scope of it but still, something in my being telling me that these moments were of great significance. Watching the events that led to World War 1 was hard, even harder when I could do nothing when I was told to do nothing. But I enlisted, under a false name with false records but still, I fought. A body never recovered but death was assumed due to

Sir Novoveski flushed from delight. “Gracious Colonel,” said he, “more than once a father blames his child only to let someone deny what he says; and I think that it is impossible to please a parent's heart more than by such a denial. Reports have reached me already of Adam's good service; but I am really comforted now for the first time, when I hear these reports confirmed by such renowned lips. They say that he is not only a manful soldier, but steady, which is even a wonder to me, for he was always a whirlwind. The rogue had a love for war from youth upward; and the best proof of this is that he ran away from home as a boy. If I could have caught him at that time, I would not have spared

With the very tall shelves inhabiting hundreds of novels and books, her furnitures and interiors were quite captivating as it was all white, the curtains, the walls, the king-sized bed frame and all. Senses are all over when it comes to her room. It smelled like fresh vanilla because of the bowl of dried petals and shells that have been smothered with air freshener. It always felt warm in the morning because of the natural light that comes streaming in and in the afternoon it felt cold caused by the sun moving to the other side of the house. Zoya took a pen and paper and began to do what she loved the most. Writing.

The shadowed presence of Nova waits. We come up for air and I ask my next question. "Do you think about what will happen when there's no one left to fight?" His head tilts down so he's looking at me. "I think there will always be war; it's the blight of mankind." "Is that what you want?" He tugs one of my braids. "You're thinking about your grandmother's journal. What's this about?" His eyes hold mine, and he has no idea how much I love him. He can't. "The white picket fence, a dog by the hearth, a baby crawling on the floor?"

Livia stayed beside her, Alessandro pacing in frustration, Sergio tapping furiously at his laptop, Carlo muttering about frozen accounts. The war wasn’t fought with bullets tonight. It was fought with paper, perception, and poison. And for the first time, Clara understood—this was how empires bled before they ever burned.

“You know what I’m reading, of course you do.” “I haven’t researched it as I stalked you on camera if that’s what you’re referring to.” Max smiled. “It’s a novel about a woman who rescued thousands of children by smuggling them out of the Warsaw Ghetto in World War II.” “Sounds heroic,” Max said. “I’ve just started, seems good so far.” Abby paused. Max seemed different, more reserved if it was possible. Reserved and distracted. “What’s wrong? Have you heard something?” His eyes shot to hers. “What makes you say that?”

The cover wasn’t familiar, but it was also scuffed and torn. A shudder rolled through me at the book’s mistreatment, but by the many dog-eared pages, it was much loved. “Tolstoy?” I asked as I read the author’s name. In my hands was one of Tolstoy’s greatest novels, and one I could admit I’d never read—War and Peace. I looked up at him but he was back in his shadow, talking to Marco, though his eyes never left me. I flipped open the pages, happy to have something to read again, since my unfinished book was somewhere in my bag that they’d done who knows what with. I greatly missed reading and was desperate for anything to help get my head out of my present situation.

I looked at Kyla and then left but while I was leaving, there was this strange look that flashed in her eyes but I didn't get to see it well because it disappeared as it appeared. I was in my room, reading a new novel I found in Tyler's drawer. He had told me that Ivory loved the book so much. It was a book about the human war. Quite interesting as it contained some characters that really got me. I laid on the bed so I got carried away when I heard a knock at the door. "Come in!" I said not wanting to get distracted. I was about to read where a prince had no other option than to leave his bride and go to the war front. I love action movies.