Novels by Mystic beauty

Chapter 28: The Monster Wears His FaceI. The Ash Storm RisesA darkness pressed over the academy—dense, suffocating, unnatural. For hours, oily clouds had churned above the towers, circling in impossible shapes and swallowing the last vestiges of sunset. Bitter wind lashed the shuttered windows, carrying the taste of scorched ash and distant terror. Panic coursed through the halls: students whispering in their locked dorms, teachers clinging to dwindling authority, and everywhere, the chilling rumor—something had escaped.Elior drifted on the edge of consciousness, pain pulsing at his temples. The world around him blurred: Olivia hunched beside his bed, bandaging a wound with shaking hands, blood soaking through his own shirt. The bronze glimmer of Desmond’s protective wards shimmered around the chamber’s doorway, faintly humming, keeping out more than just the wind.Elior saw nothing but Olivia’s face—pale, eyes ringed with exhaustion and stubborn hope. “Stay with me,” Olivia whispe

Chapter 26: Thorns and FlamesPART I: Liora Begins to BreakThe dim light from the ancient crystal flickered softly in the corner of Liora’s chamber, its shimmer casting fractured shadows against the cold stone walls. She sat alone, fingertips trembling as they traced the smooth surface, watching Elior through the visions it revealed. His figure was distant but vivid—walking the academy grounds with the burden of his blazing powers visible in every tense step.Her breath hitched, chest tightening with guilt. The weight of all she had done pressed on her like a crushing tide. Memories surged—a flash of Elior’s trusting eyes when he confided in her, a soft smile that now felt like a wound tearing open. The fragile warmth of friendship, the sincerity she had betrayed.Her mind shattered further as her father’s face flickered before her—stoic, worn, but unmistakably alive. The image closed tight around her heart like a vice.Her hand hovered over the threshold spell resting on the intrica

Chapter: The Fire Unleashed Elior’s footsteps echoed hollowly through the deserted garden courtyard, each step weighed down by a storm raging within. The rain whispered cold, relentless secrets through the skeletal branches above, drumming steadily on the stone paths slick with slick puddles reflecting the muted gray skies. The air, heavy and thick with the scent of scorched earth and something far darker, clung to him like a second skin, a burning tension coiling tighter beneath his ribs. His head throbbed fiercely, a warzone where his own battered thoughts skirmished endlessly with the ancient fire’s insidious voice.The two wrestled inside him—his reason pleading for mercy, for control, for sanity, but the demon’s voice, raw with hunger and fury, screamed louder.Then from the shadows stepped Liora—pale as a ghost and almost trembling, though her eyes burned with a steely resolve. She was framed against the rain-drenched darkness, a fragile figure burdened by secrets and remorse.

Chapter 25: Shadows at the DoorI. In Keal’s Office: The Trap TightensThe lamp glow in Keal’s office threw hard shadows on the stone walls, sharpening every cruel angle of his grin. He paced behind his massive desk, hands folded, shooting sidelong glances at Liora. The room itself seemed to pulse with anticipation—dark, grave, every surface and silence charged with a threat only Keal could relish.He leaned in close to Liora, his smirk widening. “A little more, my dear. Just a touch more and Elior won't be able to contain what’s inside him. Do you see it? The fire, the shadows—they’re clawing their way out. You’re pushing perfectly.” His voice was velvet over knives—smooth, but every word drew blood.Liora didn’t answer, couldn’t trust herself to speak. Her hands tightened at her sides, nails half-moons in her palms, stomach sick with guilt. She wished she could find anger, blame, anything besides this ache that crushed her with every one of his compliments.Keal’s voice was intoxica

Chapter 24: The Bargain of the MarkedThe Relic's LureThe twilight hours wove shadows thick against the cold stone corridors of the ancient academy, casting long, sinister figures that slithered along the cracked walls like dark sentinels. The air hummed with a heavy tension, laden with unspoken fears and the weight of secrets better left untouched. Somewhere in these halls, Elior moved silently beside Liora, her footsteps cautious but resolute. In her palm, a relic pulsed softly—a smooth obsidian orb veined with golden threads that flickered with an otherworldly light, alive and watchful as though breathing alongside his faltering heartbeat.As Elior’s trembling fingers hovered inches from the orb, he was enveloped by a crushing duality—hope whispering of control, and a shadowed threat lurking beneath the promise. The storm of desperation within his chest made mastery of his inner fire seem a lure he could not resist. His breath caught in his throat, the relic’s subtle beckoning lik

The Quiet Before the StormThe ceaseless rain drummed on the windowpane long after dawn crept over the academy towers, a slow symphony of water against stone. Inside Elior’s room, shadows crouched beneath the stirred blankets and twisted sheets—the remnants of a night wrestled with visions no human should bear.Olivia stepped quietly through the door, the faint creak of old wood barely audible over the rain’s steady tap. Immediately something unsettled him—a scent sharp with sweat and fear clung to the air. The bed was disheveled, soaked in the marks of restless torment. Clothes crumpled in damp heaps on the floor, heavy with the night’s heat and sorrow.His eyes caught the faint golden ember stains on the creaking floorboards, residues of a fire smoldering too close to the soul.Elior sat motionless on the edge of the bed, gaze fixed somewhere beyond reality, muscles taut beneath pale skin. His throat moved, swallowing memories no words could voice.Olivia’s vision narrowed, cutting

Chapter Ten: The Feast of ShadowsI. Morning’s GhostsThe dawn seeped through the filthy glass, painting Elior’s tiny room in a frail, anemic light. Nightmares clung tight beneath his skin as he lay motionless on his cot, staring up into the mildew-flecked ceiling. Every muscle ached—the residue of battles both external and within—but the wounds had sealed overnight, leaving only faint, silvery lines upon his skin. Magic coiled in his marrow; with every beat of his heart it pulsed, restless, refusing to let him find peace.Knock. Knock. Knock.Sharp, urgent—too brittle, too early. Elior squeezed his eyes shut, fighting the urge to will the world away, but the knocking persisted, gaining a rhythm that made his bruises throb. He forced himself upright, the blanket slithering to the floor. An echo of pain flared in his side, and faded instantly—as if his flesh had never been torn, as if suffering itself was denied permanence.He crossed the chill room, the floorboards creaking quietly be

Jayce’s apartment was a prison of shadows and silence, where exhaustion and fear tightly coiled together. The air felt thick, almost suffocating, charged with a sense of dread that clung to every cracked corner. His eyes glowed hollow beneath bruised lids, dull yet burning with a tortured fire, as if haunted by fighting demons only he could see. His jaw clenched so tightly it hurt, the muscles twitching involuntarily from the weight of restless nights tumbling endlessly into dawns soaked with sweat and dread. Every night, he sat in his worn chair, staring at the cracked wall opposite him — a fractured canvas littered with peeling paint and ghostly stains — convinced it held the whispers of ghosts that trailed his every step.Memories invaded like vultures. The cold barrel of a gun pressed to flesh. The roar of breathing choking in panic. Rico’s blood pooling beneath his own shaking hands. That night, three years ago, had clawed its way into his bones, never loosening its grip.And the

Chapter Nine: The Sin in the Circuit 1. The Descent The air in the old lab was humid and electric. Mold crawled up the peeling tile, and somewhere water dripped in a rhythm as tense as Jayce’s heartbeat. The battered memory drive in his palm felt volcanic, humming with secrets. He glanced sidelong at Zion, who wiped sweat off his brow and hunched over an ancient console, tirelessly plucking at the broken keys. They had been at it for hours—the sound of fingers on plastic, code on code, silence swelling between them and the world outside. Every now and then, the lights would flicker and Jayce caught his own reflection—a face wracked with exhaustion, eyes too sharp for someone his age. Below ground, it felt as if the world had split away and left them in the marrow of memory itself. Jayce thought of every promise broken: to Pops, to the crew, to Zion. He thought of Maya, her laugh echoing from some gilded room, always ten steps ahead. Grinding his teeth, he waited for answers, the g

The Warehouse — A Crucible of Rage and Doubt The dilapidated warehouse reeked of rust and long-forgotten sins, with a single flickering bulb barely illuminating the bloodied concrete floor. Rain hammered the tin roof, a cold metronome to Jayce Carter’s trembling fists. His knuckles were raw, shredded from hours of brutal reckoning, red rivulets dripping down like the silent testimony of his self-inflicted torment. Across the room sat Zion, slumped in a heavy chair, wrists bound tight with thick chains carving wounds into his flesh. His face was bruised, swollen, and stitched with dark cuts, yet his silence was deafening—less a sign of guilt and more a stubborn projection of defiance. Nothing Jayce did could draw out more than the shallow rasp of a ragged breath. The tension in the air was suffocating, a choking silence punctuated only by the sharp drip of Jayce’s blood hitting stone. Rage and confusion wrestled inside Jayce’s chest, a storm unleashed and bottled all at once. Diesel

The Warehouse — Rage, Blood, and Unanswered Questions Rain battered the battered roof. The light overhead was one naked bulb, flickering a pale pulse over Jayce’s bloody hands. The warehouse air reeked: sweat, iron, betrayal. Each drip of blood from Jayce’s knuckles hit the cracked floor with its own judgment. Across from him, Zion hung limp in the chair, wrists tied so tight they’d begun to purple, bruised face mottled and swelling, but his mouth stayed stubbornly shut. Jayce’s fury was volcanic—a storm threatening to blind him. He’d wanted to break Zion. He’d wanted to make him beg. But every silence, every half-lidded glare was a new wound in Jayce’s gut. Diesel stomped in, eyes wild. “He played us, Jayce! Fed Grim every damn move. We’ve been rats in a cage!” His voice was raw, alive with betrayal’s poison. Jayce wiped his split knuckles on his shirt, scowled at Zion, then at Diesel. “Then why didn’t he run? He had chances. Why’d he stay?” Diesel spat, face dark as thunder. “Y

Jayce’s Loyalty TestThe abandoned building wore its scars like a war veteran—cracked concrete, rusted pipes dangling overhead, and shadows pooling in every corner like blood spilled long ago. Jayce led Zion inside without a word, his footsteps echoing hollow and hard, the silence between them thicker than any steel.Jayce stopped in a barren room, the detritus of forgotten lives swirling in dust motes caught in the weak shafts of light. At the far end, a man was tied to a chair — bruised, bloodied, eyes wide with a mixture of fear and pleading.Jayce grabbed a cold pistol from his coat, then slid it firmly into Zion’s palm.“You want to be one of us again?” Jayce’s voice was flat, dangerous. “Then kill him.”Zion stared at the man, then at the gun, hesitation bleeding into every breath he took. The captive’s voice cracked, shaky and urgent.“I’m innocent. I swear it. You don’t have to do this.”Jayce’s eyes were ice. “I don’t need a maybe beside me. I need a monster.”The air tighten