تسجيل الدخول[The Altar of the Iron Cliff]
The ascent to Prasat Preah Vihear was not a journey; it was a penance. The ancient Khmer temple sat like a jagged stone crown atop a five-hundred-meter cliff in the Dangrek Mountains, straddling the border between Cambodia and Thailand. To reach it, Panni and the fractured shell of Jinyan had to navigate the "Ancient Stair," a crumbling stone artery that spiraled upward through a canopy so thick it felt like a subterranean tunnel.
The monsoon had passed, leaving behind a heat that was nearly liquid. Panni wiped the sweat from her brow, her indigo shawl now a rag used to bind the scaling knife to her thigh. Beside her, Jinyan moved with the unsettling precision of a clockwork soldier. He didn't pant. He didn't stumble. He merely climbed, his obsidian eyes scanning the treeline for the "Corrected" mo
[The Grand Harvest]The obsidian reflection in Grace’s eyes had faded, but the silence she left in her wake was a physical weight. Panni stood on the blood-slicked deck of the black junk, her breath hitching as she looked at the frozen, grey statue of Arthur Vincent. He was a monument to a father’s greed, his hand still clawed around a revolver that would never fire again.But there was no time for Panni to mourn the humanity they were losing. The fog over the Mekong was being torn apart by the prows of five massive steam-tugs, their iron hulls cutting through the water like sharks through silt.The man with the silver hair stood at the prow of the lead vessel. He was a mirror of Jinyan—the same broad shoulders, the same high cheekbones—but aged by decades of cold calculation. He wore a traditional s
The peace was shattered by a sound that didn't belong to the river—the high-pitched, mechanical scream of a high-pressure steam whistle.Panni lunged for the small porthole. Through the mist, she saw a terrifying sight. Arthur Vincent’s steam-tug had been repaired, its hull now jagged with improvised iron plating. It was roaring toward the junks, a black plume of coal smoke choking the moonlight."He found us," Panni hissed. "How did he find us through the lead panels?""He didn't find the girl," Jinyan said, his eyes darkening. "He followed the monks. He’s not looking for the Alpha anymore. He’s looking for a massacre."The steam-tug slammed into the side of the junk with a bone-jarring thud
[The Saffron Wake]Panni could feel the vibration of the river through the soles of her bare feet. It was a low, rhythmic thrum that didn't belong to the water or the wind. It was the sound of a thousand hearts beating in a terrifying, synchronized hunger.She leaned against the rough-hewn timber wall of the fisherman’s hut, her eyes fixed on the darkness outside the window. In the pale moonlight, the mangroves looked like twisted limbs, and the hundreds of villagers kneeling in the mud were a sea of shadows. Kaito stood at the center of them, his porcelain mask catching the light like a skull."They aren't moving," Panni whispered, her voice barely a breath. "They’re just... waiting."She turned back to the room. Jinyan sat on the floor, his back against the door, t
"Over my dead body," Jinyan growled."That can be arranged," Arthur sneered.The first shot rang out, striking the iron hull of the barge with a deafening clang. Panni dove for Grace, shielding her with her body as more lead began to rain down."Serey! The tiller!" Jinyan shouted.Serey lunged for the engine controls, but he was slow. A bullet caught him in the shoulder, spinning him around. The barge began to drift toward the muddy bank, the tall elephant grass threatening to snag them."Jinyan, the anchor!" Panni screamed.She realized they couldn't outrun the steam-tug. Jinyan g
"It doesn't matter," Panni said, her voice ringing with a conviction that silenced the wind. She turned to Jinyan, her eyes locking onto his. "Jinyan, look at me. Truly look at me."He did. In the midst of the ruins, surrounded by the ghosts of brothers and the threat of a global hive-mind, he saw the woman who had walked through fire for him. The "Contract Marriage" that had begun as a cold arrangement of bloodlines had forged a bond that transcended the Architect's designs."Our love is the only thing that isn't a program," Panni said, her hand finding his. "If she is the power, then we are the balance. If she is the storm, we are the ground. We won't protect her by hiding her; we will protect her by being the only two people who can say 'No' to her."Jinyan felt the tension in his soul ease. The love they shared
[The Sanctuary of Glass]The dawn over the Dangrek Mountains was not a beginning; it was a reckoning. The air at the summit of Prasat Preah Vihear remained charged, thick with the ozone-scent of the shattered "Resonance" and the heavy, humid perfume of the jungle below. But the silence that followed the fall of Jian and Lady Eleanor was the most terrifying sound Panni had ever heard.Panni stood on the edge of the ancient terrace, her fingers interlaced with Jinyan’s. Their grip was white-knuckled, a desperate anchor in a world that had tilted off its axis. Between them stood Grace. The yellow raincoat she wore was stained with the dust of centuries, but it was her eyes that held the world at bay. They were no longer the warm, chocolate brown of the Panni lineage; they were a crystalline, electric blue—the color of a storm that had been brewing for a hundred years.







