Tyler rubbed his eyes with a shaky hand, half convinced he’d hit his head too hard. Of course, he had dealt with gods and goddesses before, but they were part of scripture and mythology. This particular fantasy story coming to life was rather incredible.“This isn’t real,” the young man muttered. “No way this is happening.” But it was as real as rain. The Arthurian legends he’d read about as a kid—knights in armor, magic swords, enchanted ladies—were crashing into his life right here, right now.Still battling with death, he let out a shaky laugh. “I’m in a storybook. A freaking fairy tale.”Tyler’s body ached terribly, his injuries still bleeding and excruciating. However, beyond the pain, he realized something strange. It was the world around him. Everything had stopped, like someone had hit pause on a movie.Tyler turned his head to see Veronica standing a few yards away, her gnarled baseball bat raised high, mid-swing toward Yara’s head.Yara was immobilized, her eyes wide in horr

Natalie Anderson stepped out of the elevator, her sneakers squeaking faintly against the polished marble floor. It was a high-rise lobby, much fancier than the one back home at Anderson Industries. Norwich City glittered through the floor-to-ceiling windows. It was a sprawl of lights and noise. She had always wanted to visit Norwich as a child, having heard stories of its majestic ports and gargantuan ships. However, right now, her mind was too tangled to take in the grandeur. Tyler’s words echoed in her head: Go to Norwich. Find out what it means to carry Eve’s womb. It’s bigger than us, Nat. Find out more about yourself. His voice had been urgent, almost pleading and caring then. It didn’t matter anymore. They were broken up. But life didn’t end there. She had to find her origin. The receptionist waved her toward a private elevator with a curt gesture. “Ms. Anderson? Top floor, Ms. Palmer’s waiting for you.” Natalie nodded, stepping inside. The ride up was silent, the numbers cli

The military stronghold, Fort Cromwell, loomed over Springfield like a steel monolith. Its gray, impenetrable walls blended into the smoky sky of the industrial city. It looked like a monstrous building in a dystopian future. Amelia Briar’s car was finally allowed inside after scrutiny of her visiting papers. Apparently, Springfield’s Mayor did not allow non-citizens to enter the city without permission. After all, it was the country’s largest supplier of firearms. Inside the stronghold, the air was sharp with the tang of metal. Amelia kept reminding herself that this was a place built for war, not comfort. She stood in a sterile chamber, her arms crossed as two lady soldiers faced her. Their uniforms were crisp, and their expressions blank. “Strip,” one of them barked. “Down to nothing. We need to check for weapons.” Amelia’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t argue. She’d never get access to the Mayor without going through the security checks. The young woman shrugged

Tyler pulled his jacket tighter against the chilly night wind as he stepped out of his car and approached the Sapphire International Museum. His mystical energy had started returning, now that Goliath's heart was destroyed. However, he still needed a visit to the spiritual aquifer to replenish his reserves by a hundred percent.Perhaps he could use Yara? No, she was herself quite wounded in the fight with Veronica. She needed time to recover.Natalie was in Norwich City. He wasn't sure if Britta was a virgin or if she'd agree to the ritual in the first place. All he was left with was Isabella. But he hadn't talked to her in a while. Approaching her for a favor sounded insensitive.The museum building loomed ahead, its elegant stone arches and tall windows built with big money. Yellow police tape surrounded the entrance, and the faint hum of police radios crackled from somewhere nearby.A burglary had happened here at the hands of the villain Dagon. Tyler killed his lover an hour ago.

Monarch Hall was a monument to the Douglas family’s legacy, and also the most ancient estate in Petra County. Its structures dated back to centuries of royal history.Its palatial Great Hall, usually deserted, was decorated like a bride. Over the past week, the Douglas household staff transformed it into a stage for a grand royal banquet.The High Council of Petra had spared no effort in their mission to present Princess Michelle Douglas with the world’s most eligible suitors.Chandeliers cast a golden glow over the scene while long tables stretched across the marble floor. The silk tablecloths were littered with silver platters piled high with roasted pheasant, glazed fruits, and towering cakes dusted with gold leaf.The guests were already here, clinking glasses and goblets. The low, droning chatter of the elite filled the Great Hall. They were dressed in expensive, tailored suits and jeweled gowns, everyone trying to outshine the other.This was not a regular dinner or party. It wa