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David Branson Appears
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2025-12-01 13:00:32The night split open with a scream.
Not from a survivor. Not from a tribesman.
But from the darkness itself.
The storm had swallowed half the sky, leaving the jungle drenched and trembling. Jenna hung from the ropes binding her to the wooden post, rainwater soaking through her hair and dripping into her eyes. Every breath hurt. Every heartbeat felt like it might be her last.
The tribe danced in a widening frenzy, chanting toward the sky as if begging their gods to witness the slaughter.
**"Vorah ka'ren! Vorah ka'ren!" (Blood of dawn! Blood of dawn!)
Steeve was barely conscious beside her, shivering violently.
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The Wealthy Divorcee David Branson Appears
The night split open with a scream.Not from a survivor. Not from a tribesman.But from the darkness itself.The storm had swallowed half the sky, leaving the jungle drenched and trembling. Jenna hung from the ropes binding her to the wooden post, rainwater soaking through her hair and dripping into her eyes. Every breath hurt. Every heartbeat felt like it might be her last.The tribe danced in a widening frenzy, chanting toward the sky as if begging their gods to witness the slaughter.**"Vorah ka'ren! Vorah ka'ren!" (Blood of dawn! Blood of dawn!)Steeve was barely conscious beside her, shivering violently.
The Wealthy Divorcee Night of Dread
The ropes bit into Jenna’s wrists as the warriors dragged her across the dirt, the ritual ash still burning on her skin. The storm overhead thickened, clouds rumbling like distant war drums. She barely kept her footing as they tied her to one of the wooden posts lining the sacrificial grounds—thick beams made of weathered trunks, stained with old, dark streaks she didn’t want to identify.Steeve was bound to the post on her right, trembling uncontrollably. Lucia and the two remaining male survivors were tied to the others, forming a crooked semicircle facing the massive bonfire at the center of the village. The flames raged high, spitting sparks that drifted like fireflies.The tribe bustled around them, preparing for the night’s ritual. Warriors sharpened obsidian blades against stones. Torches were planted in a wide ring, crea
The Wealthy Divorcee Jenna’s Fight
The creature—no, the man—that stepped into the torchlight looked as though he had been carved out of night itself. Taller than any warrior in the village, his shoulders were broad enough to eclipse the fires behind him, casting the survivors’ cage in deep shadow.Bones crowned his head—long, curved horns wrapped in sinew and painted black. His chest was streaked with white ash symbols, each one pulsing in the firelight like the marks of some ancient rite. He carried a spear twice Jenna’s height, its tip shaped from obsidian and something disturbingly pale.The villagers bowed.“Vor’kai… (Bone King)
The Wealthy Divorcee Ritual Preparation
Chapter 143 – Ritual PreparationThe moment the chieftain’s bone staff singled Jenna out, the atmosphere in the village shifted—like the jungle itself leaned closer to listen. The chanting died down into excited whispers, then rose again in feverish waves. Warriors pounded their chests. Women began preparing fires, dragging out carved stone bowls, ropes, and baskets woven from sinew.The ritual was beginning.Jenna forced her back straight, though pain pulsed through her ribs with every breath. Her wrists throbbed where the restraints had rubbed skin raw. But she refused to shrink back from the bars.Fear would not keep her alive.Her mind would.
The Wealthy Divorcee The Village of Bones
The world narrowed into jagged shapes and bruising hands as Jenna and the others were shoved through the towering wooden gates. Her ribs ached, her wrists burned, her cheek throbbed from the blow she’d taken—but nothing compared to the shock that seized her lungs when she saw what waited inside.The village wasn’t a village.It was a graveyard pretending to live.Bones—large, small, human, animal—were bound into the very architecture. Ribcages served as lantern frames, skulls lined the pathways like guiding stones. Every structure had bones woven into it: huts reinforced with femurs, archways decorated with teeth, drums stretched with skin.The air stank of decay and smoke. The fires were the wrong color—too orange, flickering with an oily sheen.The warriors dragged the survivors across a clearing toward a set of towering cages. Not metal—bamboo lashed together with vines, reinforced by bones tied horizont
The Wealthy Divorcee Captured
The world shrank to the spinning blade of the spear.Jenna saw nothing else—no fire, no jungle, no survivors—only the jagged tip slicing toward her heart.Her breath stopped. Her pulse stuttered. Her legs refused to move.Everything inside her screamed, "Move, Jenna—move!" but terror locked her joints tighter than ropes ever could.The spear cut through the firelight——and then a force slammed into her side.Impact. Pain detonated across her ribs. The world pitched sideways as she crashed into the sand, Tiara slipping from her grip with a mechanical cry.A shadow had tackled her. Steeve.The spear whistled past her ear. So close she felt the wind of it.It buried itself in the sand where her chest had been. A heartbeat slower—and she would have been dead.Jenna gasped, dragging air into her lungs. Her ribs flared with sharp agony. She tried to stand——but the jungle erupted.They came like a wave.Dozens of warriors burst from the treeline with bone-tipped spears, obsidian knives, and
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