The Renegade Angel (eBook)

Laurie Bowler (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2025
350 Seiten
Laurie Bowler (Verlag)
979-8-89686-489-9 (ISBN)

Infos

Beyond the gates of heaven's last city, demons trade in human souls. One girl dares to enter their realm. One angel risks everything to help her.

In the divine sanctuary of Celestiafall, Mary Conners watches helplessly as her younger brother George vanishes without a trace. Defying the celestial hierarchy, she embarks on a forbidden quest into demon-controlled territories.

The warrior angel Ezekiel becomes her unexpected ally, guiding her through the treacherous Wildlands and into the corrupt city of Malevorthorn. Here, where innocence is currency and darkness reigns, they meet Mr. Creighton, a fallen angel whose mysterious agenda could either save or doom them all.

As ancient prophecies begin to unfold, Mary discovers her brother's disappearance is part of a cosmic plot that threatens to unravel the very fabric of existence. Will she choose to save her brother or preserve the delicate balance between heaven and hell?

This breathtaking adventure marks a stunning entry into the supernatural fantasy genre. If you're drawn to angelic warriors, cosmic conspiracies, and edge-of-your-seat action, you'll be spellbound by this extraordinary tale of love and sacrifice.

Grab your copy of this celestial thriller and step into a world where divinity meets darkness.

Textauszug

Beyond the mundane realm lay Celestiafall. It was as though the heavens had unfurled their splendour upon the earth, a tapestry of divine creation that hummed with celestial magic. Its beauty was not merely to be seen but felt. It was an ethereal embrace that swept over one's soul like the tender whisper of a seraphic lullaby.

"Look at it, George," Mary breathed out as she stood hand-in-hand with her kid brother on the cobbled street. "It's like dawn's first light, forever captured in stone and crystal."

George squeezed her hand, his sparkling blue eyes wide with the innocent wonder that only a child could possess, contrasting against his flowing blond hair that moved with the wind. Yet, within those azure depths, a spark of some deeper understanding flickered as if he, too, could grasp the weight of their sanctuary's grace.

The city rose about them in gleaming majesty, its white buildings alabaster monoliths against the cerulean canvas of the sky. Each structure was a marvel, adorned with intricate carvings that seemed spun from dreams by artisan gods. The reliefs, woven into the walls, told stories of old— epics of love, sacrifice, and the eternal dance between light and shadow.

"Angels carved these, didn't they?" George's question, laden with awe, broke the comforting silence.

Mary nodded, her gaze tracing the radiant light that seemed to dance upon the edifices, "Yes, each line etched with hope and each curve a prayer."

As they wandered through the streets, the soft, golden glow that bathed the city in its perpetual dawn caressed their faces. The light did not blaze; it whispered, suffusing everything with a warmth that spoke of safety and a peace hard-won.

"Is this light for us? To keep away the darkness?" George's fingers tightened around Mary's, his interior world colliding with the external splendour.

"Perhaps," Mary mused, her thoughts wandering to the great war that had torn apart worlds, to the sacrifices made so that this haven might endure. She fought back the memories of their parents, heroes enshrined in the same light that now protected them.

"Mary, will we always be safe here?" George's voice trembled, the undercurrent of fear unspoken.

"Always," she replied. Her heart swelled with the responsibility of being his guardian, sister, and makeshift mother since the days of fire and ash.

"Because of the elders?"

"Because of them, because of us, because of everyone who believes this light is worth fighting for," Mary said, her words painting hope in the air between them.

They continued, two tiny figures beneath the grandeur of Celestiafall, the city that bore the scars of cosmic conflicts yet stood resolute—a testament to resilience, a cradle for the last embers of humanity amidst the choir of angels.

Through the celestial chorus of Celestiafall, where the air seemed to hum with a harmony untouched by mortal woes, there glided beings of such ineffable grace that their very presence was a balm to the weary soul. The angelic inhabitants moved with a fluidity that defied earthly physics, their gestures an unspoken language of peace and serenity. As they passed, their wings caught the light—a prismatic dance of colours that no human hand could replicate, casting ephemeral rainbows that fluttered like whispers on the wind.

"Such beauty," Mary breathed.

"Mary, do you think they ever grow tired of being so... perfect?" George's question was tinged with the innocence of childhood curiosity.

She chuckled, her blonde hair catching the sunlight as she turned to him. "I think perfection, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder," she mused, tucking a stray lock behind her ear. Her peachy skin glowed with the warmth of the ambient light, and her smile was genuine, revealing beautiful white teeth—a stark contrast to the sombre memories that often threatened to overshadow their existence.

Mary's thoughts wandered as she watched an angel drift past, its silhouette a serene sculpture against the backdrop of the city. Their kind had become a myth, a distant memory whispered by the winds of time. And yet, here they were—she and George, survivors, relics of a bygone era. It was a solitude that weighed heavily at times, a reminder of all they had lost and been forced to become.

"Maybe we're the ones who tire of striving for it," she confided. Her duty to George was her unwavering purpose, a promise etched into the very marrow of her bones.

"Striving for what?" George's gaze followed the angelic procession, his wonder untarnished by their trials.

"Perfection... or perhaps just a sense of belonging." Mary's considerate nature extended beyond her brother; she felt a kinship with the ethereal beings around them, even if they stood worlds apart.

"Belonging," George repeated, a frown creasing his brow. "Do we belong here?"

The question hung between them, weighty as the silence of the stars. Mary reached out, her fingers brushing against the diaphanous edge of an angel's wing. The creature paused, turning its luminous gaze upon her. In that moment, an unspoken understanding passed through their shared glance—an acknowledgement of her humanity within this divine tapestry.

"Perhaps not in the way they do," she confessed. "But we have made a place for ourselves, haven't we? And that has to count for something."

"Because we're together," George said, his hand finding hers, small and trusting.

"Exactly," Mary affirmed, her protective instincts flaring like a shield against the unknown. "Together, we create our sense of belonging."

"Then that's all we need," he smiled, his youthful optimism a counterpoint to the complexities of their existence.

A laugh escaped her, light and unburdened, as she gazed once more upon the magnificence of Celestiafall. The city was a testament to resilience and hope, a cradle for the remnants of old worlds and the birthplace of new possibilities. Here, amid the gentle sway of angelic wings and the soft caress of eternal light, Mary found a semblance of peace—a fleeting, fragile thing, but hers to cherish, nonetheless.

George Connors's laughter echoed through the gleaming corridors of Celestiafall, a sound so human and pure that it seemed to wrap the ethereal city in a cloak of joyful irreverence. His small feet pattered against the marble, golden light dancing in his blonde hair as he darted between the angelic beings with a grace that belied his playful nature.

"Mary, look!" He craned his neck to gaze at a fresco that depicted the cosmos in swirling colours.

Mary smiled, watching her brother with a fondness that filled her chest like the warm glow of dawn. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" she replied, looking around her. It was a scene she had seen a thousand times but one that she never got tired of.

"More than beautiful—it's epic!" George said, his blue eyes wide with wonder. He turned to an angel passing by, its wings a spectrum of iridescent hues. "Did you paint this?"

The angel inclined its head, the gesture one of benevolent amusement. "No, young master," it spoke, its voice the whisper of wind through leaves. "It was created by many hands over many aeons."

"Wow..." George breathed.

"Thank you for sharing your story," Mary interjected, her considerate nature guiding her interactions, even with these celestial residents. She took George's hand gently, grounding him in the tangible while his spirit soared amongst the intangible.

"Are we going to see the gardens today?" George asked, his energy undiminished by the serene atmosphere of their surroundings.

"Of course," Mary assured him. The gardens were a place of quiet reflection, yet teeming with life, much like the paradox of their existence—a juxtaposition of human fragility amidst divine permanence.

As they walked, Mary pondered their unique place among beings of light. Her unvoiced but potent thoughts wove through her consciousness: We are anomalies in paradise, echoes of mortality in a realm of the eternal. Yet, here we are—living, breathing, part of the celestial narrative.

"Mary?" George's voice pulled her from her reverie.

"Sorry, I was just thinking," she replied, squeezing his hand.

"About what?"

"About us, about all of this." She gestured to the city around them. "We're different, aren't we? But that's not a bad thing."

"Being different makes us special," George said confidently.

"Exactly." Pride swelled within her. Protecting George wasn't just about ensuring his safety but nurturing his bright spirit and allowing it to flourish in this foreign haven.

"Does it ever make you sad, though?" he queried, his innocence veiling the depth of his question.

"Sometimes," she admitted. "But then I remember that I have you, and any sadness seems small in comparison."

They arrived at the gardens, where the air vibrated with the symphony of blooming flora and the flutter of angelic wings. It was a place that seemed both a fragment of earth and a slice of the heavens—a melding of worlds that mirrored their own lives.

"Let's explore," George said, releasing her hand to run ahead, his laughter the most precious hymns in the garden's hallowed expanse.

"Yes, let's," Mary whispered, her protective gaze never leaving the boy, who was both her brother and her charge. In the heart of Celestiafall, amid the radiant bloom and the ceaseless light, they found solace in their shared humanity.

The golden light of Celestiafall's eternal daybreak bathed the grand library's alabaster pillars as Mary and George stood before the towering shelves, laden with tomes...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 25.2.2025
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Romane / Erzählungen
• Schlagworte: dark corners mythical creatures mystery sacrifice • Destiny awakened paranormal forbidden romance • epic encounters angel warrior heaven and hell crim • fallen angel fantasy crime end of the world realm • Forbidden romance beyond good and evil abduction • guardian demonic prince dark angel supernatural • post apocalyptic lost child Suspense thriller
• ISBN-13: 979-8-89686-489-9 / 9798896864899