Novels by felistas moyo

*Avery*I wake to silence.Not the comfortable kind, where the house is still and safe, but the other kind—the kind that comes before something breaks. The kind that holds its breath.The air feels heavy, like I’m underwater. I blink against the morning light leaking through the curtains. I don’t remember falling asleep here on the couch. I don’t even remember trying to.But I do remember the footprints outside my door.I sit up slowly, heart ticking a little too fast, and notice something off in the room. The shadows are… wrong. Elongated in directions the sun doesn’t follow. And the scent in the air—damp earth and something iron-sweet—lingers like a warning.I check my phone. Dead.Of course.I get up, blanket falling from my shoulders, and notice my feet are bare and cold against the hardwood floor. I walk down the hallway, pausing at the front door.It&rs

*Elias*I’ve heard the Watcher breathe.It doesn’t sound like a man. Not an animal, either. It’s more like the air around you turns heavy, and everything quiets—no wind, no birds, no heartbeat. It doesn’t sneak up. It waits. Watching. Always watching.I’ve known it was real since I was ten.That night, I’d followed my father down to the cellar—curious. He thought I was asleep, but I had a habit of trailing him when he got like that. The bottle in his hand, the vacant stare—those were signs. Warnings. I didn’t understand then what he was afraid of. Only that he was.There’s a room beneath the Maddox estate, hidden past the root cellar, behind a false wall. The family calls it The Quiet Room. Because no one talks about what’s down there. Not even the dead.I remember the smell. Earth and rust and something sweet gone rotten.And I remember what he did. My father knelt on the dirt floor, laid out photographs—some of us, some of my grandfather, some so old the faces had turned to ink blur

Absolutely! Here’s a humanized, original version of Chapter 8 of The Shadow Bride, expanding on the mystery and deepening the emotional tension while maintaining your story’s tone and pacing. This chapter is rewritten from scratch to ensure it’s completely original and free of any plagiarism concerns.I didn’t sleep. Not really.After what happened in the woods—and Elias’s strange, abrupt silence—I spent most of the night lying stiffly in bed, every creak of the house feeding the sense that something wasn’t right. The shadows on the ceiling didn’t feel like shadows anymore. They felt like something watching me. Waiting.By the time pale morning light began to push through the gauzy curtains, I was already sitting upright, still in my wedding dress, half-draped in the blanket like I’d forgotten how to move. Maybe I had.I slip out of bed, peel the fabric from my body, and throw on the first thing I can find—jeans, a faded sweatshirt from my old job, something that still smells like norm

The dreams begin that night.Not the kind you forget by morning—the kind that root themselves deep in your chest like seeds, the kind that grow vines through your ribs and curl around your thoughts all day. The kind that feel like a memory.It starts in the woods. Moonlight cuts through the trees like pale blades. I’m barefoot, walking toward something I can’t see but feel. My dress is soaked, dragging against the forest floor like it’s trying to hold me back. Each step echoes like a warning.Something breathes behind me.Not the wind.Not the trees.Something alive.When I turn, there’s a figure standing at the tree line. Tall. Unmoving. Watching me with eyes that shimmer like the moon caught in water. Human-shaped. But not human. There’s something… ancient about the stillness. Something that makes my bones tighten in defense.It raises a hand.Not to wave.To point.At me.“You’re not her,” the thing says, its voice like a growl under gravel. “You don’t belong.”And then I wake up.

The house feels colder as I wake, though it’s far from morning. The distant howl of wind outside has become a steady presence, like a warning, a reminder that things here are never still. I roll over, pulling the blanket tighter, but it doesn’t do much to chase away the chill that creeps along my skin.Elias isn’t beside me, as usual. I suppose I’m used to it by now—his absence is a quiet companion. Still, I wonder if he’s ever truly here, even when his body is.The silence in the house is suffocating. There’s no warmth in the walls, no echo of life—just cold marble floors, old wood, and the ever-present hum of some ancient, unspoken tension. Even the air feels stale, thick with something I can’t name. It’s like walking through the remnants of an old dream, one that no one remembers but still lingers.I swing my legs over the side of the bed, bare feet touching the floor, and stand. My reflection in the full-length mirror stares back at me—a woman draped in ivory and shadow, too pale,

THE SHADOW BRIDEThe next few days slip into each other, a blur of routine and unsettling moments. I should have known this marriage wouldn’t be normal. It’s never been normal, not since the moment I stepped into Camille’s shoes. But it’s not just the family or the house that feels wrong—it’s Elias. Every time he’s near me, it’s like a storm brewing in the distance. He doesn’t speak much, but when he does, his words are clipped, laced with something I can’t place. Guilt? Anger? Maybe both.I still haven’t asked him about Seth. I know I should, but every time I think about it, my stomach twists. The way Seth looked at me, the strange undertones in his voice—it’s enough to make my skin crawl. But Elias hasn’t mentioned him again. And part of me wants to leave it that way. Whatever world Elias is a part of, whatever he is, I don’t think I want to know.Yet, the silence between us is suffocating. I can’t stand it much longer.It’s late afternoon when I find myself in the kitchen, staring a