Novels by Azizah

"Stop pacing, Ishan. You’re going to walk right through the floorboards, and considering we’re currently standing in a den of cutthroats and tax-evaders, falling through to the basement isn’t on my to-do list," Eron hissed, pressing a hand against his newly bandaged ribs as a sharp twinge of pain shot through his torso.Ishan’s semi-transparent figure paused mid-stride, his silver-rimmed spectacles flashing in the dim, sulfurous light of the abandoned tannery. "I am not pacing, boy. I am calculating. Varek Tolin’s soul-scent tracking curse is not something you simply brush off like lint from a wool doublet. It is an active, tethered resonance. Every heartbeat you make sends a pulse straight to the Exorcist's pocket-watch. We have less than seventy-two hours before he kicks this door off its rotting hinges.""Which is precisely why we aren't sitting here waiting for him to RSVP," Saphira said, stepping out from the shadows near the entrance. She slung her heavy claymore across her back

"Hold still, Eron, or I am going to let Korvin stitch you up with fishing wire and blind ambition," Saphira snapped, pressing a steaming, sulfur-soaked cloth directly against the jagged cold-iron burn on his chest.Eron hissed through his teeth, his entire upper body seizing as the caustic herbs ate away at the residual freezing poison left by Varek's blade. "Careful! That feels less like medicine and more like localized arson.""Pain means it is working," Saphira said, her jaw tight, though her hands moved with surprising, practiced gentleness as she wrapped a thick band of coarse linen tightly around his ribs. "If Varek’s blade had dug half an inch to the left, we wouldn't be worrying about antiseptic.""Oh, look at you two, playing field medic while the world burns," Korvin’s spectral form flickered into view near the rotting rafters of the abandoned tannery, his broad shoulders heaving an exaggerated sigh. "Back in my day, we took a broadsword to the liver and simply walked it off

The cold-iron edge bit deeper into Eron's sternum, the razor-thin line of crimson blooming against his pale skin as Varek Tolin leaned his full weight into the bone-blade. Eron’s breath hitched, his lungs refusing to expand under the sudden, suffocating pressure of the Exorcist's temporal suppression field."I told you, boy," Varek murmured, his amber eyes narrowing into twin pits of merciless calculation. "The math is absolute. Your timeline terminates tonight. Not a moment later.""Math can bite me," Eron choked out, his vision swimming as black spots danced across the periphery of his sight. He tried to summon a spark of violet mana from his core, but the bone-blade acted as a relentless siphon, draining every drop of magical energy before it could reach his fingertips.Before Varek could flick his wrist and sever Eron's heart, the air behind the Exorcist shuddered violently. A localized kinetic burst—so fierce it tore the frost right off the dungeon stones—erupted directly against

The bone-white blade hummed against Eron’s sternum, the vibration rattling his ribs. Varek Tolin looked down at him with the kind of pity usually reserved for a dog with a broken leg."Seriously?" Eron choked out, his voice a jagged rasp in the frozen air. "You’re going to kill me while I’m not even wearing a shirt? That’s low, Varek. Even for an Exorcist."Varek’s smile didn't reach his glowing amber eyes. "The universe doesn't care about your wardrobe, Eron. It cares about the fact that your existence is a cancer on the timeline. Every breath you take is a second stolen from a billion other souls.""Is that the 'Pre-killer' pitch?" Eron spat, trying to summon a spark of violet mana, but the bone-blade seemed to suck the energy right out of his skin. "Kill the kid before he grows up to be the monster? It’s a bit cliché, don't you think?""It’s not a pitch, Eron. It’s math," Varek replied calmly. "In ninety-four percent of the futures we’ve calculated, your 'Great Catalyst' event ends

The stone under Eron’s feet felt like it was crumbling into a void. He stared at the carving—Died: Tomorrow—until the letters blurred into jagged, mocking lines."We aren't staying here," Saphira’s voice was a low, vibrating growl. She didn't look at him; she was already scanning the shadows of the Ossuary, her hand white-knuckled on her claymore. "Della, Ishan, Korvin. Out. Now.""But I wanted to see if the kings were buried with their jewelry!" Korvin complained, though his spectral form was already beginning to dissipate into the violet smoke of the soul-bond."Korvin, for once in your miserable afterlife, read the room," Ishan snapped, adjusting his cuffs. "Our Master is currently staring at his own expiration date. It’s hardly the time for looting. Eron, darling, don't worry about the stone. Statistically, most prophecies are just poorly written fanfiction of the universe."Della lingered the longest, her silver eyes shimmering with a rare, haunting sadness. She touched Eron’s ch

The damp night air of the Low Quarter clung to Eron’s skin like a shroud as they stepped out of Neris Vale’s shop. Behind him, the heavy thud of Saphira’s boots and the ethereal fluttering of three very loud ghosts created a cacophony that definitely wasn't "stealthy.""So, Iron Hills," Eron said, checking his new boots—courtesy of a terrified Neris. "How are we even getting there without being vaporized at the first checkpoint?""We aren't going to the hills yet, Master," Della said, materializing in front of him and walking backward with effortless grace. "If we just charge in there, we’re just making the Wardens’ job easier. They’ve turned the hills into a temporal fortress. We need a bypass. A back door.""And let me guess," Saphira interjected, her hand hovering near her claymore. "This back door involves more heresy?""Oh, honey, it involves the best kind of heresy," Ishan chirped, adjusting his silk cravat despite being a translucent spirit. "The Royal Ossuary. It’s where the K