Novels by Dep Flair

Draven woke up with a strange certainty in his mind. He needed a sword. A real sword, not just the standard practice blade the academy provided.The pendant had been warm all night, vibrating with memories of warriors who'd wielded legendary weapons. He could feel their techniques at the edge of his consciousness, but they required proper steel to execute correctly.He dressed quickly and headed downstairs to find his friends. Jin was already in the common room, reading through a thick textbook on earth magic theory."Morning," Jin said without looking up. "You're up early.""I need to go into the city today," Draven said. "Want to come?""What for?"Sent"I need to find a blacksmith. I want to get a proper sword made."That got Jin's attention. He looked up from his book. "A sword? What's wrong with the academy weapons?""They're practice blades. Good for training, but not for real combat. I need something that can channel my fire magic properly.""Since when do you channel fire magic

Draven was walking back from his afternoon classes when he heard footsteps behind him. Heavy, deliberate steps that seemed to be matching his pace.He turned around and found himself face to face with Maximilian Stormcrest. Third on the Wall of Recognition, water element specialist, and someone Draven had only seen from a distance before.Maximilian was tall and broad-shouldered, with the kind of build that suggested he spent as much time on physical training as magical studies. His dark blue hair was swept back from his face, and his eyes were an unsettling pale green that seemed to look right through people."Draven Ashworth," Maximilian said, "Finally. I've been wanting to meet you.""Have you?" Draven replied carefully. "Why?"Maximilian stepped closer, and Draven caught a whiff of something like ocean spray mixed with ozone. The scent of powerful magic."Because I can smell it on you," Maximilian said, his pale green eyes studying Draven's face intently. "The strength. It's comi

The next morning brought a return to routine. Draven attended his classes, tried to focus on magical theory, and mostly succeeded in pushing the strange dreams to the back of his mind. But during lunch, restlessness crept in."I'm going to skip afternoon study hall," he told his friends as they finished eating. "Need some physical activity.""Want company?" Jin asked."Nah. Just need to clear my head."He made his way to the training grounds, hoping some solo sword practice would help settle his thoughts. The main practice areas were busy with other students, so he headed to the older grounds on the far side of campus.These training areas had been built decades ago and were mostly unused now except by students who wanted privacy or quiet. The equipment was older but well-maintained, and the isolation was perfect for working through complicated feelings.Draven was halfway through a series of basic sword forms when he heard the sound of steel on steel from the next field over. Someone

Draven jerked awake in his bed, heart pounding and sweat covering his face. For a moment, the dream felt so real he could still hear the clash of weapons and smell the smoke from burning magic.Shadow Moon infiltrators. A battle in the courtyard. Running through the night with enemies chasing them.He sat up and looked around his room. Everything was normal. His desk, his books, his academy uniform hanging on its hook. Sunlight streamed through the window, and he could hear other students talking in the hallway.Just a dream. But it had felt more real than any dream he'd ever had.He touched the pendant under his shirt. It was warm, but not the burning heat of danger. Just the gentle warmth it always carried.A knock on his door interrupted his thoughts."Draven?" Jin's voice called out. "You awake? We're supposed to meet for dinner, remember?"Right. They'd planned to have a proper meal together after returning from the Frozen Caverns. A celebration of sorts, now that they were back

The courtyard exploded into chaos. Real academy guards poured in from every entrance, their magic blazing as they engaged the Shadow Moon infiltrators. But the fake guards had been ready for this - they scattered with practiced efficiency, using the confused students as cover."This way!" Master Thorne shouted, grabbing Draven's arm and pulling him toward the administration building.But their path was blocked by two infiltrators who moved like dancers, their weapons cutting through the air in perfect sync."Shadow twins," Sera said grimly. "Trained together since birth. They fight as one mind.""How do we beat them?" Jin asked."We don't. We survive them."The twins attacked without warning, their movements so coordinated they seemed like extensions of the same person. Draven tried to summon his Flower Blade technique, but the suppression field kept it weak and flickering.Master Thorne stepped forward, his sword meeting their assault. But even his skill was barely enough to keep up

Master Thorne's sword was in his hand before the fake guard finished speaking. "Academy security!" he shouted. "We have infiltrators!"But his call was answered by silence. The real guards were nowhere to be seen."I'm afraid your security is otherwise occupied," the fake guard said pleasantly. He was a middle-aged man with gray hair and kind eyes that didn't match the threat in his voice. "We've been planning this for quite some time.""How many of you are there?" Thorne demanded."Enough." The man gestured, and more figures emerged from hiding spots around the courtyard. They wore academy uniforms, but Draven could see the subtle differences - weapons that were too well-maintained, movements that were too precise, eyes that missed nothing."What do you want?" Sera asked, though she already knew the answer."You, Princess. Your mother is eager to discuss your recent choices.""I'm not going anywhere with you.""I'm afraid that's not up for debate." The man nodded to his companions. "

After a while, Louise Bond walked into Sophia's office with the confidence of someone whose entire world had changed overnight. Gone was the nervous energy that had characterized her before the Fashion Week show. In its place was something Michael recognized immediately—the bearing of someone who had discovered their true purpose."The media response has been incredible," Louise said, settling into the chair across from Sophia's desk. "My agent says I've received more interview requests in the past 48 hours than in my entire career combined."Sophia looked up from her tablet, where she'd been tracking the continued explosion of interest in neural-responsive fashion. "How are you handling it?""Better than I expected," Louise replied honestly. "There's something about knowing you're part of something genuinely revolutionary that makes all the attention feel... meaningful."Michael observed the conversation from his position near the window, still wearing the black mas

Michael's phone had been buzzing nonstop for three hours. By the time he made it back to his apartment, the notifications had reached the thousands. Every major news outlet, fashion magazine, and technology blog was covering the Fashion Week show that had "changed everything overnight."He scrolled through the headlines on his secure tablet, each one more dramatic than the last:"NEURAL FASHION REVOLUTION: The Dress That Reads Your Mind" "BREAKTHROUGH OR BREAKDOWN: Technology Meets Couture" "THE FUTURE IS WEARABLE: Inside the So Black Phenomenon"But it was the video clips that truly captured the magnitude of what had happened. Louise's walk down the runway had been recorded from dozens of angles, shared millions of times across every social platform, and analyzed frame by frame by fashion experts and technology commentators.The dress itself had become iconic within hours. The flowing colors, the responsive patterns, the way it seemed to pulse with Louise's heartbea

The runway stretched before Louise like a pathway to another world. From the wings, Michael could see the packed auditorium—hundreds of fashion industry luminaries, technology journalists, and cultural critics all waiting to witness what the media had dubbed "the most revolutionary fashion show in decades."Louise stood beside him in the experimental prototype, her breathing controlled but her energy electric. The advanced So Black dress appeared deceptively simple in the dim backstage lighting, but Michael knew that once she stepped into the bright runway lights, once her nervous system fully engaged with the neural interface, everything would change."You ready for this?" he asked quietly.Louise nodded, her hand briefly touching his arm. The moment of contact caused the dress to shimmer with warm gold threads—a reflection of gratitude mixed with determination."I've been ready my whole career," she replied. "I just didn't know what I was getting ready for."Th

Fashion Week had arrived with the force of a cultural hurricane. Michael stood in the shadows backstage at Lincoln Center, watching the controlled chaos that preceded Liana Garcia's show. The venue buzzed with unprecedented energy—photographers jostled for position, fashion journalists whispered into phones, and industry insiders tried to catch glimpses of what everyone was calling "the most anticipated show of the decade."The backstage area was a maze of hanging garments, makeup stations, and nervous energy. Models moved between stylists like dancers in a choreographed performance, their faces masks of professional concentration. But Michael could feel the underlying tension crackling through the air."This is insane," Sophia whispered, appearing beside him with a tablet clutched in her hands. "The media coverage is beyond anything we anticipated. CNN, BBC, Vogue, Harper's Bazaar—everyone's here."Michael scanned the backstage area, his enhanced perception cataloging t

The next evening, Michael stood in Liana Garcia's main atelier, watching the controlled chaos of Fashion Week preparation unfold around him. Seamstresses worked at a dozen stations, their fingers flying over fabrics that shifted color in the studio lights. Pattern makers consulted tablets displaying designs that seemed to move and breathe on the screen."She said yes," Sophia announced, approaching with barely contained excitement. "Liana agreed to feature So Black in her show."Michael felt a surge of relief. The meeting with Megan had gone better than expected. Once the young engineer understood what they were building—fashion that could literally express human consciousness—her enthusiasm had overcome her natural caution about publicity."But?" Michael prompted, hearing the hesitation in Sophia's voice."She insists on total creative control," Sophia replied. "Complete authority over the designs, the presentation, the messaging. We provide the technology, she deci

The elevator to Liana Garcia's private studio required a special key card and biometric scan. Michael adjusted his black mask as they ascended to the fortieth floor, the city lights blinking below them through the glass walls. Sophia stood beside him, her usual confidence tempered with nervous energy."Remember," she whispered, "she's going to test you. Liana doesn't work with anyone unless she's absolutely certain they understand her vision."Michael nodded. He'd spent the entire day researching Liana Garcia's work, studying her previous collaborations, understanding what drove one of the most demanding artists in the fashion world. The Black Investor needed to be more than just technically competent tonight—he needed to be visionary.The elevator doors opened to reveal a space that was part laboratory, part art gallery, part fashion atelier. Mannequins displayed impossible garments that seemed to shift and breathe in the ambient lighting. Fabric samples hung from the c