Novels by Manuel Sterling

Morning came slow and gray. They gathered in the healer's house for breakfast. Simple food—bread, cheese, dried fruit. Nobody talked much. The exhaustion ran too deep for conversation. Garcia was the first to break the silence. "Something's been bothering me," she said. She set down her bread, appetite gone. "The Abyss." Blaze looked up. "What about it?" "We stopped the convergence. Destroyed the keys. Killed the Master." Garcia's eyes found Miko. "But the Abyss itself—what happens to it now? There's no battery to power it. No connection to reality." Miko stopped chewing. He hadn't thought about that. Had been too focused on surviving, on ending the ritual, on watching his father die. "She's right," Liam said slowly. His voice was still weak from the healing, but his mind was sharp as ever. "The Abyss needed the Master to anchor it. Without him, without the ritual, it should be—" "Crumbling," Miko finished. His stomach dropped. "It should be crumbling. Falling apart." "Should

They sat by the river for a long time. Nobody spoke. There wasn't much to say. The Master's body lay a few feet away, still and cold. The wound in his chest had stopped bleeding. The light from Samson's scars had faded completely. Anna's crying had quieted to occasional hitches in her breath. Liam still had his arm around her. Garcia sat with her back against a tree, eyes closed but not sleeping. Blaze was picking at a thread on his torn shirt. Akiya stared at the water. Miko stood apart from them, looking at the body. His father's face. Peaceful now in a way it never had been in life. Or lives. However that worked. "We should bury him," Garcia said finally. "Why?" Blaze didn't look up from his shirt. "He tried to end the world." "Because leaving him here feels wrong." "A lot of things feel wrong." But Blaze stood anyway. "I'll help dig." They found a spot upriver where the ground was softer. Took turns digging with their hands and Garcia's stone manipulation. Nobody s

Miko's fists came up.Ash began to swirl around them. Gray and black, spiraling like smoke given form. It wasn't fire. Wasn't wind. Something else entirely—something that had awakened in him through all of this.He drove his fist into his own palm—the same hand that had grabbed the key. The one still burning with the Master's essence. The ash cut deep, drawing blood that mixed with the swirling gray particles."What are you doing?" The Master took a step forward."Something you didn't plan for." Blood welled up, mixing with the ash and energy still coursing through his hand. "You said I have your bloodline. That it's what let me touch the key without dying instantly.""Yes, and—""And blood calls to blood." Miko walked toward the nearest key. Not the one he'd dropped. One of the six still orbiting. "You built this ritual on connections. On anchors. On bonds between things."The Master's eyes widened. "Don't—"Miko pressed his bleeding palm against the key.The reaction was immediate.

Miko stepped through the entrance and felt the space open up around him—high ceilings that disappeared into darkness, walls that curved impossibly, floor that seemed both solid and transparent at once. Through it, he could see stars. Or what used to be stars. Now they were just points of light being consumed by spreading darkness. The seven keys floated in perfect formation, each one humming with a frequency that made his teeth ache. They were beautiful in a terrible way—crystalline structures that caught light that shouldn't exist and refracted it into colors that hurt to name. And in the center of them all, his father stood with arms raised. The Master didn't move. Didn't attack. Just watched as the five of them spread out, taking positions around the chamber's edge. "You brought friends," he said. His voice was calm. Almost pleasant. "How touching." Miko kept his fists raised but didn't advance. Not yet. Ash swirled faintly around them. "It's over. We're stopping this." "Are

Energy lanced across the chamber. Miko threw himself sideways. The blast hit where he'd been standing, vaporizing stone. He rolled, came up running, blade ready. The Master didn't follow up. Just stood there, hand still raised, watching them scatter like pieces on a board. "Garcia, now!" Akiya's voice cut through the chaos. The floor erupted. Stone spikes shot up around the Master, creating a cage meant to limit his movement. But he just waved his hand and they crumbled to dust. "Going to take more than that," he said. Blaze and Akiya struck together. Twin streams of fire converged on the Master's position, aimed directly at his chest where Samson's scars burned. The heat was intense enough that Miko felt it from across the chamber. The Master raised a barrier. The flames split around it, scorching the walls behind him but leaving him untouched. "Predictable," he said. "You saw the weakness and went straight for it. No subtlety. No—" Garcia hit him from the side. She'd used

The chamber was bigger than it looked from outside. Miko stepped through the entrance and felt the space open up around him—high ceilings that disappeared into darkness, walls that curved impossibly, floor that seemed both solid and transparent at once. Through it, he could see stars. Or what used to be stars. Now they were just points of light being consumed by spreading darkness. The seven keys floated in perfect formation, each one humming with a frequency that made his teeth ache. They were beautiful in a terrible way—crystalline structures that caught light that shouldn't exist and refracted it into colors that hurt to name. And in the center of them all, his father stood with arms raised. The Master didn't move. Didn't attack. Just watched as the five of them spread out, taking positions around the chamber's edge. "You brought friends," he said. His voice was calm. Almost pleasant. "How touching." Miko kept his blade ready but didn't advance. Not yet. "It's over. We're sto

The press conference was a masterclass in corporate theater. Zen stood on the podium at the future site of Skyline, the skeletal framework of the unfinished building rising behind him like the bones of a slumbering giant. Construction equipment gleamed in the afternoon sun, workers in Mega-branded safety gear positioned strategically in the background.Camera flashes punctuated his arrival as journalists frantically took notes. The city's most prominent business reporters had rushed to the site following Mega's cryptic announcement of "significant developments regarding the Skyline project."Zen adjusted the microphone, his expression betraying nothing of the calculated vengeance driving his actions. Sinclair stood to the side, scanning the crowd with practiced vigilance, while Keisha managed the press at the perimeter."Good afternoon," Zen began, his voice carrying across the assembled media with commanding precision. "Thank you for joining us on such short notice. Today marks a sig

Night had fallen across the city as Zen sat alone in his office, the only illumination coming from his desk lamp and the soft glow of his computer screen. The Rossi loan documents were spread before him, each page meticulously annotated with his observations. The evidence was damning—predatory terms, hidden clauses, and what appeared to be deliberate manipulation of financial projections to ensure default.Mrs. Rossi had overplayed her hand, and now Zen had everything he needed to take control of the Skyline project.A soft ping from his security system alerted him to movement in the outer office. Zen glanced at his watch—11:47 PM. The cleaning staff had already finished hours ago, and his assistant had left shortly after six.He wasn't expecting anyone.With calmness, Zen closed the folder containing the loan documents and slid it into his desk drawer. He then pressed a concealed button beneath his desk, activating the silent recording system he'd installed for exactly this type of s

The Skyline project dominated the horizon, its partially completed towers rising like monoliths against the afternoon sky. Construction cranes swung in choreographed precision, while teams of workers navigated the massive structure with efficiency. Despite being 15 percent complete, the development already commanded attention—a testament to Tom's architectural vision and business ambition.Zen stood at the edge of the site, ostensibly reviewing progress reports while actually conducting a far more strategic assessment. Following Wilson's revelations about the underground infrastructure connections, a personal inspection had become necessary."The north tower foundation is proceeding ahead of schedule," James Wilson explained as they walked the perimeter. "Structural integrity tests exceeded specifications by twelve percent.""And the sublevel excavation?" Zen asked, his attention focused on the massive pit that would eventually become the project's underground parking and service are

Back in Zen’s Home country, after the whole heat has died down.Evelyn Rossi's office occupied the entire top floor of the Rossi Enterprises headquarters, a testament to both her inflated sense of importance and desperate need for the appearance of power. Floor-to-ceiling windows provided a 360-degree view of the city, including—Zen noted with satisfaction—a perfect sightline to the Skyline project rising in the distance. A project she'd foolishly leveraged her company to infiltrate."Mr. Diel," she greeted as he was ushered in by her assistant. Her voice carried the brittle warmth of someone trying to mask anxiety behind social pleasantries. "What an unexpected pleasure. I was beginning to think you were avoiding me."Zen moved into the spacious office with confident strides, each step calculated to remind her who truly held power in this room. He didn't wait for her invitation before settling comfortably in the chair opposite her desk."Avoiding you, Evelyn? Quite the contrary. I've

The yacht cut through darkening waters, its engines humming at three-quarter power as it navigated away from Saint-Malo's harbor. Security personnel had settled into cruising positions—two on the aft deck, one on the forward observation point, and two inside the main cabin with Zharkov and Nia. The remaining guards were likely positioned on the bridge and in the engine room, maintaining operational security throughout the vessel.Zen and Henri remained concealed near the outer deck storage compartments, using the shadows cast by the yacht's exterior lighting to avoid detection. The increasing distance from shore worked in their favor—intervention from harbor authorities becoming less likely with each passing minute."Approaching optimal position," Henri noted quietly, checking the GPS coordinates on his tactical device. "Five minutes to designated extraction point."Zen nodded. They had identified a stretch of water approximately three nautical miles from shore—far enough to avoid imm

Saint-Malo's ancient granite walls rose against the darkening sky, silhouetted by the setting sun as it dipped into the English Channel. The medieval fortifications had withstood centuries of sieges and storms, but now they served as mere backdrop to a far more immediate conflict. NiaZen studied the waterfront property through high-powered binoculars, his position on a neighboring rooftop offering optimal surveillance while maintaining adequate distance. The target—a modernist villa constructed with obvious disregard for the historic surroundings—sat directly on the water, complete with private dock where a sleek yacht waited, engines idling."Preparations for immediate departure," he noted, observing increased activity around the vessel. "Security detail?"Beside him, Henri adjusted his own observation equipment. "Eight visible. Professionally positioned. Two on the main approach, two patrolling the perimeter, four on the property itself.""Armed?""Concealed, but evident from their