Mostrando resultados por autor "Darlene Zagata" en Todas las categorías

The city never truly sleeps, but at 2:42 AM on a Wednesday in October, it comes close. The streets below are empty save for a taxi sliding through a yellow light, its driver oblivious to the drama unfolding twenty-three stories above. In the penthouse apartment of the Merriman Tower, Pierce Watterman stands at the edge of his balcony. The October wind cuts through his silk pajamas, raising goosebumps on his arms. He should be cold, but he doesn't notice. His attention is fixed on something—someone—inside the apartment. "You don't understand," he says, his voice carrying a tremor that's ...

Before there was the Knowing Time, there was the Forgetting. It happened so gradually that no one noticed. First, the stories stopped being told. Then the songs grew shorter, simpler, until they were merely noise to fill silence. The old ways—the gathered circles, the shared harvests, the long nights of laughter under stars—faded like morning mist under a harsh sun. People began to measure their worth in hours worked, in coins earned, in ranks achieved. They traded touch for screens, conversation for transactions, meaning for efficiency. They called it progress. They called it ...

Northumberland Coast, 1954 The lighthouse keeper's daughter was the first to see it. She'd been collecting driftwood along the shore when the fog rolled in, thick as wool, smelling of brine and something older—something that made her think of her grandmother's stories about drowned churches and villages swallowed by the sea. The kind of stories told to keep children from wandering too close to the cliffs. But Elsie Wren was eighteen and no longer frightened by tales meant for children. She dropped her bundle of wood when she heard the bells. Not the steady rhythm of the lighthouse bell, ...

In the symphony of existence, everything vibrates. From the smallest subatomic particles to the vast galaxies spinning through space, all of creation pulses with energy. You, too, are part of this cosmic dance—a unique frequency in the grand orchestra of life. But here's what makes you extraordinary: unlike a stone or a star, you have the power to consciously shift your vibration. Through the words you speak, the thoughts you think, and the beliefs you hold, you can literally tune yourself to higher frequencies of joy, abundance, love, and possibility. This book is your invitation to ...

The city was falling. Not in the way of surface cities, with fire and screaming and stones tumbling from towers. Thalassar fell slowly, gracefully, as all things do in the deep. It fell in spirals of silver bubbles, in the soft sigh of water rushing through broken windows, in the final gasps of those who had trusted their rulers to protect them. High Councillor Morath stood at the heart of the Amphitheater of Tides, his hands raised to the distant, unreachable surface. Around him, the other members of the Great Houses knelt in a circle, their blood mixing with seawater as the ritual ...

Time is a river that flows in one direction—or so we tell ourselves. We cling to this belief because the alternative is too frightening to contemplate: that the past is malleable, that the future is uncertain, and that five ordinary people might hold the key to humanity's survival. This is the story of Elizabeth Manning, Jonas Mellock, Dr. Henry Albright, Reverend Thomas Kurtzwell, and Gina Robbins. They are not heroes in the traditional sense. They are not chosen ones marked by destiny or blessed with supernatural abilities. They are simply people—flawed, frightened, and far from home....

The needle hummed against skin like a mechanical prayer, each puncture a communion between artist and canvas. Raven Pierce had performed this ritual thousands of times, transforming blank flesh into windows of story and symbol. But today, as the autumn rain drummed against the windows of Midnight Ink, something felt different. She didn't know that by sunset, her carefully constructed world would begin to bleed. The art of tattooing requires precision, patience, and an intimate understanding of pain. Raven possessed all three in abundance. What she lacked—what had been stolen from her ...

The mundane life of Madison Roarke was a masterpiece of precision. Each morning at 6:47 AM, her phone's alarm would pierce the silence of her studio apartment with the efficiency of a surgical instrument. By 6:50, she was vertical. By 7:15, she had consumed exactly one cup of coffee—black, no sugar—and reviewed her daily schedule. By 8:30, she was seated at her desk in the climate-controlled offices of Meridian Analytics, ready to transform chaos into order through the alchemy of data. Her job as a data analyst suited her precise, logical mind perfectly. Numbers didn't lie, patterns ...

THE POWER OF "I AM" When Moses asked God for His name, the answer came not as a title or description, but as pure being itself: "I Am That I Am" (Exodus 3:14). In these four simple words lies the foundation of all spiritual truth—the recognition that existence itself is divine, and that what we call God is not separate from what we truly are. This book represents a fundamental shift in how we approach affirmations and spiritual practice. Traditional affirmations often operate from a place of lack, seeking to attract or manifest what we believe we don't have. "I will have abundance." "I am...

Sarah had suffered from chronic insomnia for three years. She'd tried everything—melatonin supplements, blackout curtains, meditation apps, even prescription sleep aids. Nothing worked consistently. Then, during a particularly desperate Google search at 2 AM, she stumbled across something called "binaural beats for sleep." Skeptical but exhausted, she put on headphones and pressed play. The track seemed simple enough: gentle waves of sound that pulsed rhythmically in each ear. Within twenty minutes, something remarkable happened. Her racing thoughts began to slow. Her clenched jaw relaxed...

In the mystical realm known as the Land of Chaos, magic flows through every leaf, stone, and stream. This is a place where ancient trees whisper secrets, dragons soar through crystal-clear skies, and creatures of all kinds live in harmony with the natural world. The land earned its name not from discord, but from the beautiful, unpredictable dance of magic that weaves through daily life—a chaos that brings wonder rather than fear. For generations, the Land of Chaos has been watched over by the Elder Council, a gathering of ancient tree beings whose roots run deeper than memory itself. ...

In the space between sleeping and waking, in the twilight hours when reality grows thin, the old stories stir. They whisper of times when gods walked among mortals, when the impossible was commonplace, and when magic flowed through the world like rivers of starlight. Humanity has forgotten much. What were once living, breathing truths have become bedtime stories, fairy tales, and myths relegated to dusty books. But forgetting and ceasing to exist are very different things. Across the world, in hidden valleys and forgotten forests, on remote mountaintops and in the depths of ancient caves, ...

The old swinging bridge had been a landmark in Millbrook for over seventy years. Built during the Great Depression by the Civilian Conservation Corps, it stretched one hundred and fifty feet across Willow Creek, connecting the residential west side of town with the commercial district to the east. Over the decades, it had become more than just a means of crossing the water—it was a rite of passage, a meeting place, and for many residents, the very heart of their community. Children dared each other to run across it during storms, teenagers carved their initials into its wooden planks, and...

The roses of Aethelgard had always whispered, though few possessed the gift to hear them. In the perpetual twilight that bathed the kingdom, where neither true day nor night held dominion, the great Aethelheart pulsed at the center of the capital like a crystalline heart made of living rose. Its translucent petals, each the size of a palace window, caught and refracted the magical light that sustained all life within the realm's borders. The thorns that crowned its massive stem were said to be sharper than any blade, more precious than any jewel, and more dangerous than any weapon ever ...

Fifteen Years Ago The beach house at Halcyon Bay stood empty that night, its windows dark except for one room on the second floor. Inside, four men sat around a mahogany table, their faces illuminated by a single lamp. "We all agree, then," Michael Hale said, his voice steady despite the tremor in his hands. "This is the only way forward." Richard Mercer nodded slowly. "The alternative is unthinkable." "The alternative is prison," Thomas Langford corrected, his words clipped. "For all of us." Vincent Cross remained silent, staring at the documents spread before them. Numbers. Signatures. A ...

We are born into feeling before we are born into language. Before we learn to name our emotions, we carry them in our bodies—trembling hands, racing hearts, the weight in our chest that has no words. This collection is a map of that wordless territory. It moves through the landscapes we all inhabit but rarely speak of: the rooms where we hide our fears, the fires that consume and create us, the quiet places where we finally learn to rest. These poems are not answers. They are companions for the journey—witnesses to the complexity of being human, to the beauty and brutality of feeling ...

History, they say, is written by the victors. But what if history could be rewritten entirely? In the kingdom of Levenshire, beneath the shadow of the Colonial Empire's banners, the people have forgotten what freedom tastes like. For three centuries, the Empire has ruled with absolute authority, their power seemingly unshakeable, their dominion complete. Children grow up knowing only subjugation, their parents' whispered stories of better times dismissed as fairy tales. Yet in the deepest archives and the most forgotten corners of the realm, scholars and rebels alike speak in hushed tones ...

Darkwind Manor stands like a gothic sentinel against the storm-lashed Scottish highlands, its towering spires piercing the perpetually gray sky. For decades, the estate has been home to Martin Manchester, a reclusive billionaire whose philanthropic endeavors have touched lives across the globe. But on this particular October evening, as twelve carefully selected guests make their way up the winding drive, they have no idea they're walking into a trap that's been twenty years in the making. What they believe to be a charitable dinner will become a deadly game of survival, where past sins ...

Some people are born with silver spoons in their mouths. Others are born with debt collectors at their doors. Clara Jenkins belonged firmly to the latter category, though she'd never let anyone see her struggle. Pride, after all, was one of the few things she owned outright. At thirty-two, Clara had mastered the art of making do with less—less space, less money, less hope. But in the quiet hours before dawn, when the city never truly slept and her cramped apartment felt like a cage, she allowed herself one luxury: dreaming of a home that was truly hers. She never imagined that dream would...

The ice remembers everything. Every snowflake that has fallen over millennia, every breath of ancient air, every fragment of cosmic dust—all preserved in the crystalline memory of Antarctica’s frozen depths. Scientists come to this white desert seeking those memories, drilling core after core to read the Earth’s diary written in layers of ice. Dr. Harold Lewis had spent fifteen years reading those frozen pages. He thought he knew what to expect from the ice. He was wrong. Some memories, it turns out, have hands. And those hands were reaching up from the deep, waiting to pull the world...