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Episode 58
Last Updated:
2025-07-28 16:53:35
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BOUGHT BY CRUELEST ALPHA Episode 59
Every step sends jolts of its agony up my legs, vibrating through the hollow cage of my bones where the storm rages. Kieran’s ghost sobs, a constant static. The Alpha snarls, tasting the chaos. The land’s sorrow is a tidal wave threatening to pull me under, drown me in centuries of spilled blood and broken promises.And the Child… my Child…They stand at the epicenter. Not floating. Anchored. But to what? Their small frame is rigid, head thrown back, eyes wide open. Not human eyes. Not anymore. Pupils dilated into bottomless voids, filled with swirling galaxies, cold, ancient light. The Weaver’s power pours through them, a river of cosmic indifference carving away the banks of their soul. Their face… blank. Beautiful. Terrible. The face of Judgment, not the child who used to bury their face in my neck during thunderstorms."Mama?" The word echoes in my skull, faint, distant. Not spoken aloud. A psychic ripple from the vanishing sliver of them still clinging on. "It’s… cold…"The plea
BOUGHT BY CRUELEST ALPHA Episode 58
To the west, the Golem Collective – earth mages chanting, streets rippling like disturbed water, stone facades peeling away to form lumbering, faceless sentinels that crush parked cars like tin cans. Screams. Real screams. Not echoes. People trapped. Dying.The Child stands beside me on the crumbling roof ledge. Not a child. A conduit. Their eyes are wide, unblinking, reflecting the city’s pyre below, but seeing something else entirely. The Weaver’s tapestry. Threads of fire, threads of earth, threads of screaming life-force snapping and tangling into a knot of pure annihilation. Their small body thrums with power. My power. The power they pull through me, the anchor point for their cosmic balancing act. "Strain threshold approaching critical," they murmur, their voice layered, distant. Not theirs. Not entirely. "Factional energy matrices destabilizing local reality substrate. Collapse probability: 87.3%." The strain . Oh god, the strain. It’s not just the Child pulling power.
BOUGHT BY CRUELEST ALPHA Episode 57
They stand in a circle around us. Twelve figures draped in rough-spun grey, hoods shadowing faces etched with lines deeper than time. Their eyes, when they catch the flickering torchlight, burn with a fervor that chills deeper than the mountain wind. Ancient. Unyielding. His blood. Kieran’s legacy.The whispers inside me aren’t whispers anymore. They’re a riot. Kieran’s echo thrashes against the bars of his internal cage, a storm of fear, shame, and a terrible, gnawing recognition."The Elders…" his voice is a broken rasp inside my skull. "The Binding Rites… Lily, they’ll tear me apart—""Quiet!" The Alpha’s growl vibrates my bones, low and hungry. "Kin-blood… smells like power…" It stirs, a sleeping beast scenting prey. The Hierarch’s mad giggle weaves through it. "Oh, the drama! Family reunion!"The land’s sorrow is a dull ache beneath it all, forgotten in the face of this more immediate violation.The eldest Kin steps forward. No hood. Face like weathered oak, eyes chips of obsidia
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The scream isn’t sound. It’s rupture. A jagged tear ripping through the fabric of the world behind my eyes. The Child gasps beside me, clutching their head, their small body rigid. Not pain. Summons. A psychic S.O.S. frayed with static, laced with something I’ve never felt from the Weaver before: raw, unadulterated fear."The Loom," the Child chokes out, eyes wide, cosmic detachment shattered. "It’s tearing. Something’s… chewing the threads."No time to plan. No time to breathe. The Child grabs my hand, their grip icy with panic, and pulls. Not physically. Reality folds. The damp sanctuary walls dissolve like wet paper. The ground vanishes. We’re falling, spinning, not through air, but through layers – glimpses of impossible cities, burning stars, deserts of singing glass, all bleeding together, smearing like paint on a wet canvas. The Weaver’s Loom. And it’s coming apart at the seams.We land. Or something approximates landing. The ground beneath us isn’t solid. It’s shifting planes
BOUGHT BY CRUELEST ALPHA Episode 55
The air in Arthur’s forest hangs thick, heavy with the scent of rotting leaves and something else… something fading. It’s not just the trees weeping crimson sap slower now, sluggish. It’s the feel of the place. The ancient oaks stand listless, branches sagging like broken arms. Vines choke paths that were clear yesterday. Thorns, unnaturally large and sharp, glint with malicious intent from tangled thickets that weren't there an hour ago. The forest isn’t dying. It’s forgetting how to live.The ache starts low. A familiar hollow grinding beneath my ribs. Not hunger. Not the whispers. This is deeper. Older. The Arthur-ache. A phantom limb pain for a soul dissolving into the earth. Every step deeper into the heartwood makes it worse. A physical pull, a yearning towards a vanishing point.The Child walks beside me, the purified Mirror shard cradled in their hands. Its light, usually serene, flickers erratically here, casting long, dancing shadows that twist like grasping fingers. Their f
BOUGHT BY CRUELEST ALPHA Episode 54
A scream trapped in glass. It sits on the scarred wooden table between us, pulsing with a light that’s somehow both too bright and deeply wrong, like oil catching fire. Hierarch’s ambition bleeds from it – whispers of control, order, dominion that slither into my ears, coil around the Alpha’s growl inside me, and find fertile ground. "They fear you," it hisses, using her voice, her certainty. "Make them kneel. The power is yours. Take it. Control it."I clench my fists, knuckles white. The whispers aren't just outside. They're in. A new, insidious layer to the prison’s chorus. Kieran’s echo is muted, wary. The land’s sorrow feels heavier.Across the table, the Archivist watches. Cold eyes behind thin-rimmed glasses. Her grey suit is immaculate, untouched by the damp chill seeping through the cracked walls of our sanctuary. Council observers flank her, silent, their null-tech devices humming faintly, a constant reminder of the cage they’d prefer for us. Their presence makes the air ta
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