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The sea

Penulis: Elmielos
last update Terakhir Diperbarui: 2025-06-24 01:19:15

**Kelly Thompson's POV**

The drowned city is a graveyard of forgotten gods.

Skyscrapers slouch like broken spines, their surfaces crusted with barnacles and veins of bioluminescent algae that pulse in time to the submerged heartbeat thrumming through the water. Eden steers the skiff through canals choked with the skeletons of leviathans, their bones picked clean by eels with human teeth. His silver scars flicker, threads of the Veil coiled around his wrists like serpents. He doesn't speak, but his gaze keeps drifting to the tower on the horizon-a needle of black stone piercing the clouds, its apex crowned with a throbbing mass of storm and rot. The Weaver's heart.

The rot in me stirs, tendrils curling around my ribs. *"She's waiting,"* it purrs. *"She's always been waiting."*

I ignore it. The storm is ash, but the rot is worse-a patient, hungry thing. It dreams in my sleep now, showing me visions of Eden with the Weaver's needle in his hands, stitching the world into a tomb.

We beach
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  • The Rejected Curvy Luna Queen    Storm

    **Kelly Thompson's POV**The coast isn't a border-it's a wound.Saltwater foams crimson where it meets the shore, the tides clawing at cliffs pocked with caves that hum in discordant harmonies. The sky here is a sickly silver, the stars blotted out by a haze that isn't cloud or smoke but something *older*, a residue of the Veil's decay. Eden walks the shoreline ahead of me, his shadow fractured by the void-and-lightning scars webbing his arms. The storm I absorbed thrums beneath my ribs, restless as a caged thing, its voice a static-laced growl. *"This place reeks of her."**Her.* The Weaver.But the Daughters come first.They descend at twilight, riding comets of starfire that crater the beach, their silhouettes etched in violent light. The tallest steps forward, her hair a cascade of dying constellations. *"Last chance, sister. Surrender the storm. Or we'll unmake the boy to reach it."*Egen's laugh is a rasp, his fingers flexing as obsidian brambles erupt from the sand. "You're wel

  • The Rejected Curvy Luna Queen    The requiem

    **Kelly Thompson's POV**The silence isn't silent.It's a vacuum, a pressure that gnaws at the eardrums, leaving behind a phantom tinnitus-a high-pitched whine that isn't sound but the *absence* of it. The Valley of Echoes stretches before us, its jagged obsidian spires clawing at a sky stripped of color. Eden's breaths are shallow, deliberate, his hands clenched to stifle the faint hum still leaking from his scars. The Cantor's melody is quieter now, but not gone. A sleeping beast, not a dead one.The Maestro's presence lingers here, heavier, as though the valley itself is his instrument, waiting to be played.Eden signs to me, hands sharp in the dead air: *No sound. They'll hear.*I nod. The Dirge's warning hangs between us-*The Maestro will finish your song.* But the valley's rules are clear: a single footfall, a gasp, a heartbeat too loud, and the Requiem will find us.We step onto the glass-like rock, its surface etched with fractures that glow faintly, like dormant veins. The pa

  • The Rejected Curvy Luna Queen    The melody of pain

    **Kelly Thompson's POV**The city of glass and gold hums with a melody that isn't sound-it's a *vibration*, a frequency that reshapes the air into jagged harmonies. My teeth ache, my bones ringing like tuning forks. Eden walks ahead, his steps steadier now, but his hands keep flexing as if missing the gauntlets' weight. The city's gates yawn open, unguarded, their opalescent surfaces reflecting distortions of our faces-mine etched with storm, his with a crown of shadows.A figure waits on the bridge, her silhouette blurred by the warped light. As we near, the distortion clears. My breath catches.*Lila.*Not the Lila I remember-thorn-scarred and snarling-but a polished version, her skin flawless, hair coiled in gilded braids, eyes twin pools of liquid mercury. She smiles, and the melody sharpens."Hello, Kelly," she says, her voice syrup-smooth. "You look like hell."Eden steps forward, fists clenched. "You're dead. I watched you die."Lila's laugh is a wind chime's shiver. "Death's a

  • The Rejected Curvy Luna Queen    The cacophony

    **Kelly Thompson's POV**The city isn't a city-it's a *cacophony*.Towers of living metal twist like serpents mid-strike, their surfaces crawling with glyphs that burn and rewrite themselves in real time. The air thrums with a mechanical heartbeat, gears grinding in the sky where cogs orbit like malformed moons. Eden staggers beside me, his breath ragged, the raw scars on his arms glowing faintly as if the crown's ghost still flickers in his blood."They built this place to last," he mutters, eyeing the nearest structure. A spire unfurls, revealing a mouth of piston-teeth that hisses steam. "Or to *eat*."The ground shudders. A road peels itself from the earth, metallic tiles slotting into place like scales, leading us toward the city's core. There are no guards, no sentinels-only the hum of engines and the creeping sense of being *digested*.A shadow detaches from a tower. Not a Harbinger, not a wolf. A child-sized construct of wire and molten glass, its voice a distorted recording o

  • The Rejected Curvy Luna Queen    Wolves not wolves

    **Kelly Thompson's POV**The wolves aren't wolves.They move too fluidly, their shadows stretching and snapping like tattered banners even under the bruise-colored sky. Their eyes aren't eyes-just hollow sockets where starlight pools and drips, leaving smoldering trails in the ash. Eden tenses beside me, his breath shallow, a jagged rock clutched in his trembling hand. The absence of his scars makes him seem younger, softer, a blade stripped of its edge.The lead wolf pauses, its muzzle peeling back to reveal teeth carved from obsidian. It speaks without moving its jaws, its voice a chorus of children's laughter and bone flutes. *"Stormbearer. The Veil's rot tastes like you."*The venom is gone, but the memory of its power thrums in my marrow. "What do you want?"The wolf's head tilts, starlight sloshing from its sockets. *"The First Wolf's crown. You stole it when you burned the spire."*Eden frowns. "We didn't take anything."*"Liar."* The wolf lunges, but not at us-*through* us. It

  • The Rejected Curvy Luna Queen    Venom

    **Kelly Thompson's POV**The Weaver's needle gleams in the fractured light of the desert, her silhouette a blade against the bleeding horizon. Eden staggers at my side, his breaths shallow and human, his scars replaced by raw, pink flesh that weeps where the storm once lived. The venom thrums in my veins, no longer a separate entity but a chorus-*my* chorus-whispering of power and paradoxes. It hungers to answer the Weaver's challenge. I do not."You've outgrown your cage," the Weaver croons, her voice a serrated melody. "But cages are all you know, aren't they? Daughter. *Experiment*. *Failure*."The venom flexes, my skin crackling with stormlight. "You don't get to name me anymore."Her laughter is a shiver down the spine of the world. *"I don't have to. You'll name yourself when the venom burns through what's left of your humanity."*A sandstorm erupts, swallowing her form. When it clears, the desert is gone.---**The Shattered City**We stand on a bridge of frozen lightning, arci

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