"Horoz ötüşü onun için ölümcüldür!" diye okudu yüksek sesle. "Hagrid'in horozları öldürülmüştü! Slytherin'in Vârisi, Sırlar Odası açıldıktan sonra şatonun yakınlarında bir horoz olsun istemiyordu! Örümcekler ondan kaçar! Her şey uyuyor!"
"Peki ama basilisk etrafta nasıl dolaşıyordu?" dedi Ron. "İğrenç, koca bir yılan... Biri görürdü... "
Ancak Harry, Hermione'nin sayfanın dibine yazdığı kelimeyi gösterdi.
"Borular," dedi. "Borular... Ron, dolaşmak için tesisatı kullanıyor. O sesi duvarların içinde duyuyordum..."
Ron birden bire Harry'nin koluna yapıştı.
"Sırlar Odası'nın girişi!" dedi boğuk bir sesle. "Ya bir tuvaletteyse? Ya-"
"- Mızmız Myrtle'ın tuvaletindeyse," dedi Harry.
Öylece kaldılar. Heyecan iliklerine kadar işlemişti. İnanamıyorlardı.
"Bu demektir ki," dedi Harry, "okuldaki tek Çatalağız ben olamam. Slytherin'in Vârisi de Çatalağız. Basilisk'i öyle kontrol ediyorlardı."
"Ne yapacağız?" dedi Ron. Gözleri parıldıyordu. "Doğruca McGonagall'a mı gitsek?"
"Öğretmenler odasına gidelim," dedi Harry, ayağa fırlayarak. "On dakika içinde orada olur, teneffüs olmak üzere."
"Basilisk, insanları, onlara bakarak öldürüyor. Ama kimse ölmedi çünkü kimse onun gözlerine doğrudan bakmadı. Colin onu kamerasından gördü. Basilisk kameranın içindeki filmi yaktı, ama Colin sadece taşlaştı. Justin... Justin, basilisk'i Neredeyse Kafasız Nick'in içinden görmüş olmalı! Bütün darbeyi Nick aldı, ama yine ölemezdi ya... Hermione ve Ravenclaw'lı o sınıf başkanı ise yanlarında aynayla bulundular. Hermione canavarın bir basilisk olduğunu henüz öğrenmişti. Eminim karşısına çıkan ilk kişiyi, köşeyi dönmeden önce aynayla bakması konusunda uyarmıştır! O kız da aynasını çıkardı - ve -"
Hangi tür kitapları seviyorsun?
🔎 Polisiye
💕 Romantik
🚀 Bilim Kurgu
🏰 Fantastik
📖 Klasik
🧠 Kişisel Gelişim
🏛️ Tarih
😱 Gerilim
Bu topraklarda gezen onca korkunç hayvanın ve canavarın hiçbiri, “basilisk” ya da diğer adıyla “yılanların kralı”ndan daha garip, ondan daha ölümcül değildir. Devasa boyutlara ulaşabilen ve yüzyıllarca yaşayabilen bu yılan, bir karakurbağasının altında kırılmış bir tavuk yumurtasından doğar. Öldürme yöntemleri hayret vericidir, çünkü öldürücü ve zehirli dişlerinin dışında, basilisk'in bir de katil bakışları vardır: Gözlerinden çıkan ışına maruz kalan herkes ani bir şekilde can verir, örümcekler, can düşmanları olan basilisk geldiğinde kaçar. Basilisk ise sadece horozun ötüşünden kaçar, çünkü horozun ötüşü onun için ölümcüldür.
He knows Things
I turn to look at the darkening sky outside, and another bolt of lightning
spears the clouds.
Hugging myself, I remember what Darius said all those months ago. I’d
suspected it for a while, and I’d seen it when we’d fought the basilisk.
There are rumors that Talan can not only control dreams, but the weather.
I cock my head. “Tell me, Talan. Why would anyone keep a primal
power a secret? Everyone thinks they’re gone from the world, but you
control the weather, don’t you?”
A flicker of surprise crosses his features. “The weather responds to my
magic. I wouldn’t say I have much control, and if I did, I would most
certainly keep it a secret, just like you tried to hide yours from me.”
“Right, because we both know what happened when you discovered
mine. Now, I’m your plaything.”
His eyes glitter like dark jewels, and his gaze sweeps down my body,
then up again. The dark, velvety feel of his magic wraps around me, making
my pulse race. “Not nearly as much as I’d like you to be.”
I stare up at him. “You and I don’t exactly go together.”
“And yet here we are, the only two people in the world with primal
powers. And I think you like me more than you let on. Even if you know
I’m evil down to my bones, some part of you wants a taste of my poison.
Underneath your pretty little uptight farm girl exterior, you hunger for
chaos. You crave adventure. You want the freedom to make bad decisions.”
His voice drops low, and a dangerous edge slides through his words. “And
what’s a worse decision than me?”
I swallow hard, trying to ignore the resonance of his words. After years
of trying to balance my mom’s bank account and make enough rent money
for both of us, sometimes I wanted to break everything. Burn it all down.
“And what led you to that conclusion?”
“You always had to be the
The Bassilix Hunt
Somewhere in the depths of the forest, the basilisk is already hunting us.
Or rather, hunting me.
On his own, Talan would have no problem escaping this creature, but I
keep getting winded, my lungs wheezing. I can fight and throw daggers and
control people’s minds. What I cannot do is run like a Fey. I stopped
sprinting after about ten minutes.
I’m behind Talan. I walk quickly through the dark woods, twigs
snapping under my feet, and try to keep up with the Dream Stalker.
Armed with a bow, Talan prowls with a tiger’s grace. He’s all silence
and shadows, a quiet breeze between the trunks. When he catches my eye,
he doesn’t give the slightest hint of concern about the primordial monster
hunting us.
The fuck have I gotten myself into?
The snow crunches beneath my boots, and the chill seeps through to my
toes. Every breath of frozen air sears my lungs, and my heartbeat pounds in
my ears.
Barren and gnarled tree branches arch toward each other, a twisted, icy
cathedral above our heads. Apart from the sounds of our footfalls, quiet
blankets the forest. The silence is more menacing than noise, and fear
crawls under my skin.
Am I a spy or a prisoner who’s completely lost control of my mission?
As an undercover agent, I should be a manipulator, a puppeteer, influencing
those around me to work for my agenda. Instead, I’m fleeing from a fucking
basilisk so I can marry a man I’ve kissed once, a man I’m also trying to kill.
Worst game of Kiss, Marry, Kill ever.
The cold air pierces my lungs and stings my cheeks.
Part of me wonders if Talan already knows the truth about me. Maybe
this is all a slow torture plan—a punishment to take me apart one piece at a
time until I’m left defenseless before him and confess everything.
My lungs burn, the airways tightening. Of course, I don’t have
Last stand of a bride who does not want to be married
“Right, then.” Griflet hands us each a hot, steaming mug of tea. “A
royal wedding. Customarily, the gods demand a sacrifice of a dozen wild
boars and the release of five hundred white pigeons. I don’t have any of
those on hand.” He drops down into a wooden chair across from us. Next to
him stands a rough-hewn table strewn with papers.
Talan leans back, utterly relaxed, and drapes one arm over the back of
the sofa. Even seated, his powerful presence dominates the room.
Sometimes, I get the sense that the whole world exists for his entertainment.
“We don’t have time for the boars and birds.” Talan’s deep voice thrums
over my skin. “My father means to arrange for my marriage tomorrow,
whether I’m there or not.”
I clear my throat. Here’s my chance for a delay. “On the other hand, we
can’t afford not to. If Auberon realizes we skipped the boars and the
pigeons, he could pronounce that we aren’t truly married. Surely we want to
follow the ancient traditions for members of the royal family.”
“Five hundred pigeons?” Talan narrows his eyes at me. “Do you have
any idea how long it would take to organize that?”
“Lady Nia is quite right,” Griflet says, gripping his little leather bag like
his life depends on it. “Of course, this is all quite symbolic. We could try to
perform the ritual with something symbolizing the pigeons and the wild
boars.”
“Like what?” Talan asks.
“Well, the intent is a sacrifice. We could, for example, sacrifice some
finely baked biscuits and release a chicken from my coop.”
“Are you serious?” I ask.
Griflet nods wildly. “Yes, yes. I’m always serious when it comes to the
gods. The ancient texts permit me some leeway. It’s about the intent, you
see.”
“Excellent.” Talan runs his tongue over one of his sharp canines. “Let’s
sacrifice the biscuits.”
Griflet