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Crossings

last update Last Updated: 2025-10-01 10:35:28

The first crossings were accidental.

A breath that wasn’t theirs.

A shiver that didn’t belong to their skin.

A memory of scent without a source.

Yet the more the world frayed, the more those small trespasses learned to linger, to braid, to hold. Shared intimacies—uninvited and undeniable—slipped through the thin places between them and took root. Warmth traveled through cold water. Salt sighed through a forest’s leaves. Moonlight learned the shapes of roots. What had flickered at the edges of sense now arrived as presence: not voice, not letter, not ritual, but the felt weight of another soul, warm against one’s ribs.

These were not random.

They were threads.

Invisible, potent, purposeful—drawing Ronan, Mirra, and Selene toward a center none of them had chosen and all of them felt.

Ronan stood at the brink where sand surrendered to sea. A wind out of the west combed his hair and blew salt against his mouth. He had always loved this boundary, this breathing edge where tide and earth ex
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  • Fractured   Weave of Three

    Ronan closed his eyes to make room for what rose. At first it was the familiar weight—the ocean’s endless press along his ribs, the hush inside his skull where he had kept his own company for years. Then, like a current slipping beneath the surface, came the cool glide of Selene’s lunar power, sliding between his thoughts and setting them into an order that felt inevitable. He did not grab for control. He let the tide of her presence move through him, naming the old things he rarely touched: the sleepless watches on black water; the command learned too young, worn too long; the discipline that saved lives and made him a stranger to the softness those lives still required.He didn’t hide any of it. He didn’t dramatize it, either. He allowed the truth of his solitude to rise like salt from his skin. Selene’s awareness met it not with rescue, not with pity, but with steadiness—the way moonlight meets a wave: acknowledging its shape, giving it edge, refusing to become it. The recognition

  • Fractured   The Unmaking That Makes

    The glade no longer merely glowed—it gathered. Light sloped inward from leaf and stream and air, pooling where their hands met, as if the world had decided to tip itself toward this one point. The tripartite radiance—silver, viridian, pelagic blue—tightened into a spiral and began to turn. Not fast. Purposeful. The hum beneath their feet rose half a note, and every living thing in the clearing adjusted itself to the pitch: petals cupped, roots loosened, the stream slowed as though listening.Selene let the breath leave her body in a measured thread and did not call it back. Purpose washed through her like tide through a cave, heavy and right. The visions, once shards, had set themselves edge-to-edge into a single pane. This was the ritual—not a script of words, but a choreography of consent.“Feel it,” she said again, softer, not as command but as tether.Their fingers tightened, and the spiral of light answered, leaning closer. The charge in the air crisped until the fine hairs at th

  • Fractured   Edges of the Fire

    The glade kept its soft hush, the moss still warm where their bodies had pressed it flat, the stream murmuring with a voice reclaimed. For a little while they let that quiet hold them—three heartbeats nested in one rhythm, three breaths drawing the same patient air. But as the light thinned from opal to pearl, the afterglow shifted. Not soured—no—but complicated, like sweetness finding its salt.Selene felt it first: a tug just beneath her sternum, delicate and insistent, as if an unseen thread were being reeled back through her chest. Her light, which had softened into a kind, steady glow, flickered—not outward but inward, a candle guttering inside its glass.“Do you feel—” she began.Ronan’s hand tightened around hers. “Yes.”Mirra’s eyes were already on the ground. “Wait.”They listened. Beneath the glade’s contentment, another current moved—thin, hungry, polite only because it had just been fed. It was not the old corruption. It was the Veil itself, newly attentive, newly attuned

  • Fractured   Between Desire and Ecstasy*Sexually Explicit Scene

    Selene gasped, caught between them, and arched into the cradle of Mirra’s hips, her own thighs trembling around Ronan’s shoulders. The ache that lived in her chest unspooled, wild and silver, every nerve strung to breaking. Mirra’s fingers dug into Selene’s waist, steadying her, anchoring her to this world even as the magic dragged them closer to the edge of something vast.Selene shuddered, her cry caught in a throat slick with moonlight. Mirra’s braids brushed her collarbone, their ends whispering secrets as Mirra bent to claim Selene’s lips with a hunger she seldom allowed. The silver-white of Selene’s hair tangled in Mirra’s hands, a glowing snare. Beneath them, Ronan moved with tidal strength, his shoulders eclipsing the dark and his mouth worshipful, relentless. The magic built into pressure, raw and luminous, drawn from the Nexus itself; it thrummed in their blood, a living pulse, until Selene felt herself unravel.The world blurred. Silverwood’s mists surged against the broken

  • Fractured   Rite of Storm and Root*Sexually Explicit Scene

    The glade held them like a cupped hand, its breath a low, thrumming note beneath the hush. Moonlight pooled in silver eddies across the moss; salt hung in the air like a promise; the trees leaned inward, their leaves catching and scattering green fire. Everything felt heightened—edges sharpened, colors deepened, the world braced at the lip of something inevitable.Selene’s light had softened from battle-bright to molten—no longer a blade, but a brand. Ronan stood close enough that the heat of him rolled off in tides, the scent of brine and lightning alive on his skin. Mirra’s presence gathered like summer thunder under loam: steady, rising, inevitable. Their magic hummed in converging bands, crossing, tightening, becoming a single frequency that thrummed in bone and breath.The earth answered them. The moss rose, barely, as if inhaling. A thin ring of water lifted from the stream and circled the three of them in a halo of suspended droplets, each bead an opal caught between sea and sk

  • Fractured   Threads of Clarity

    As their powers continued to mingle, Selene felt a crystalline clarity bloom within her mind like frost patterns spreading across winter glass. The fragmented visions that had plagued her—disjointed glimpses of silver-threaded futures and half-formed prophecies—now coalesced into a coherent narrative, a tapestry of balance and restoration woven in moonlight. She could feel the intricate threads that connected them: silver filaments of lunar magic, emerald tendrils of earth energy, and sapphire currents of oceanic power, twisting together like a triple helix that hummed with potential.Ronan's breath caught as a profound shift rippled through him. The restless energy of the ocean—that had churned within him like storm-tossed waves crashing against his ribcage—now transformed into a wellspring of boundless strength, cool and deep as the midnight sea. He could perceive the ebb and flow of Selene's lunar magic, a gentle rhythm that soothed the tempest within him like moonlight on dark wat

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