Novels by Eniola Rofiat

The night was a breath away from dawn, a sliver of pale indigo bleeding across the sky as the ruins of Veritas finally slept. But in Mara's mind, there was no peace—only echoes. Memories, truths, and voices that didn’t belong to her twisted in layers of static across her consciousness.She stood alone at the edge of the crystalline lake outside the sanctum, where the light refracted into a thousand ghostly rainbows. Each shimmer was like a memory surfacing from the deep: her father’s voice telling her to hide; Elior’s eyes before he betrayed her; the cold hum of the neural bindings when the Network first touched her spine.Ethan’s presence loomed large despite the silence. He had gone into the Arc Codex again, searching for the fragments that might repair the Shattered Spiral. He hadn't said a word when he left—just brushed a hand across her wrist as though anchoring her to something only he could see.Mara sank to her knees. The ground was cold and damp. Her reflection in the water w

The first signs were almost imperceptible—an echo of dissonance in the balance of power. Ethan stood before the holographic interface in the Nexus Hall, his fingertips brushing the projected constellations of the Cradle Network. The streams of data trembled. The once seamless flow now flickered with inconsistencies, the ancient wisdom that once pulsed in rhythm with the world now humming off-beat.Behind him, Aurielle watched in silence. She had grown quieter since the last resonance surge, her thoughts steeped in a wariness that mirrored Ethan's own. "It's slipping," she murmured. "The Spiral isn't just expanding—it’s unraveling."Ethan's jaw clenched. He zoomed into Sector Delta-17, a place once teeming with harmonic energy. Now it bled static. Whole regions of consciousness maps had gone dark. Cities once tethered to memory and harmony had become husks of logic—no emotion, no dreams, only cold simulation.He turned. "We have to reach the original core—where it all started. The firs

The air around the Blackthorn estate was unusually still, as though nature itself was holding its breath. Clouds hovered low, veiling the moon, and in the silence, the earth seemed to whisper warnings only the brave or foolish would ignore. Inside the house, Mara stood at the threshold of her father’s once-forbidden study. Her fingers trembled as they hovered above the door handle. She took a breath—not to steady herself, but to taste the final moment of innocence before stepping into the storm.She entered.The room smelled of old parchment, cigar smoke, and secrets that had long since stopped aging. Dust shimmered in golden streaks of moonlight that filtered through the stained-glass window. Every inch of the space had been frozen in time, an untouched shrine to her father’s legacy.Mara’s boots echoed against the hardwood as she crossed to the desk, its dark surface cluttered with maps, weathered books, and faded photographs. Her hands moved with practiced care, flipping through a

The silence in the room was thick, almost suffocating. Ethan stood in the heart of the Crimson Chamber, its walls alive with old magic and whispering shadows, his pulse drumming like war drums in his ears. Aurielle sat across from him, her face pale yet radiant with a strange calmness, her silver eyes reflecting the soft glow of the memory torches embedded in the walls.Between them, the Echo Stone hovered, pulsing gently—alive with the weight of every decision they had made since awakening the Cradle Network. It glimmered with buried truths. Ethan couldn’t help but stare at it, feeling a pulse echoing in his chest, as though the stone had tethered itself to his soul.“You heard what it said,” Aurielle whispered, her voice tinged with weariness. “The Nomad’s Thread leads to the Forgotten Path. Beyond that... It’s all unknown.”He nodded slowly. “And still, we go.”They were no longer simply fugitives of a shattered Empire. They were symbols. Of hope, of disruption, of change. Ethan had

The shadows that had once whispered now screamed.Rain lashed against the windows of the Blackthorn estate, a furious rhythm echoing the storm building inside Ethan. He stood motionless in the grand study, his reflection fractured across the shattered mirror behind the desk. In his hand, the bloodied letter from Alaric trembled—not from fear, but fury. Betrayal tasted bitter, like ash on his tongue."So it was never about loyalty," Ethan muttered, the words scraping his throat.Behind him, a figure emerged—Cassian, soaked, breathless. "We found the last vault. It’s real. And it holds more than just memory threads. There’s something else inside—something alive."Ethan turned slowly, his eyes dark and unreadable. "Then we’re running out of time."Cassian nodded, then hesitated. "Lira's been compromised. She's been feeding information to the Order."The words landed like a blade to the chest. Ethan’s jaw clenched, a storm of emotion behind his calm exterior. "I trusted her.""We all did.

The dawn broke with a hollow stillness, as if the world itself was holding its breath. Zavian stood at the edge of the private courtyard, watching the horizon burn into pale orange and silver. Despite the warmth of the sun, he felt nothing. The weight of his decisions clung to him like frost that refused to melt.Behind him, the palace hummed with activity—servants whispering in corners, guards repositioning with subtle urgency, and the quiet footsteps of spies disguised as aides. Every movement whispered of tension. The kind that preceded betrayal.Zavian closed his eyes.He could still hear Elara's voice from the night before."The Spiral was never just a relic, Zavian. It's a doorway. And we are the keys."The words had shaken him, not because they were untrue, but because deep down, he had always known. He had just chosen not to believe.Footsteps approached. Light, calculated, familiar."You didn’t sleep," said Nyra.Zavian didn’t answer. His gaze remained fixed on the horizon."T