A Tangeled Web Novels & Stories

We were the only two left unaffected by the spell, I tried to concentrate on the spell as it needed alot of attention, it was hard doing so as we had a missing person at the back of our mind as well. "What spell is this?" Jane asked as she lited the candles " It is an old dancing spell, they'd all dance till they get a cardiac arrest and you know-" " Die." Jane completed whatever she was trying to say. "So do you know how to reverse it?" She asked. "Well I can try." I turned and Whispered to her. In a way I could understand that as much as I wanted to find Neil, I couldn't do it without them. I was trying all I could not to cry, as I could feel the pain haunting me deep down.

The web of magic she had woven in the Trials and during the Blood Moon glowed dimly under her thoughts. Channels. Anchors. Fault lines. She slid along those familiar paths. Found… A snag. In the direction of the old Shadow tunnels. A place where the web’s threads tangled more than they should. As if something were catching on them on purpose. Testing. Probing. Her stomach churned. “Not now,” she murmured to the dark. “We barely survived the last goddess who thought this world her personal altar.” The whisper in the roots did not answer. But something *else* did.

I could feel the warmth of his breath on my face. His eyes sparkled like an eager puppy wanting a pat. "I work at my family's company, love racing, don't smoke, drink, or gamble. No messy romantic past either. Selena, is there anything else you'd like to know? Even if it's something more private, I'm open." He shifted closer and closer, but a voice suddenly called out. "What are you two doing?" Snapping out of it, I quickly pulled away, only to see Connor standing there with Vanessa Kruger.

His hesitantly brings his fingers to my tattoo, his touch ghosting over my skin. I scrutinize the tattooed letters on his fingers. A, M, L, R, O. They don't spell anything but here I am, telling myself that they probably stand for something. He's barely touching me but my entire body is on fire, I want his touch so bad it hurts my chest. I feel like I'm trapped in a small box and I can't breathe or move or think. Our eyes lock and I realize that we're both panting, chests heaving, fucking electrifying.

At its center stood a figure—a woman with eyes filled with determination and strength, her form bathed in the warm glow of inner radiance. Surrounding the central figure were layers upon layers of intricate details, each one imbued with its own significance. Splashes of vibrant red symbolized passion and courage, while streaks of soothing blue represented serenity and tranquility. Threads of gold were weaved throughout the canvas, shimmering with the promise of hope and renewal.

This was the Tether. "We start the weave tonight," Kael said, his voice tight with the weight of the moment. "If the Tether holds, we bleed the planet’s fever into the stars. If it snaps, the recoil will be like a whip-crack that levels every city on the equator." The First Ascent

Marcus glanced up from his computer. "Ooh, whose the admirer?" he asked, a grin spreading across his face. "Shut up," I laughed, but my cheeks flushed with pleasure. I carefully untied the simple white ribbon, my fingers fumbling with anticipation. I lifted the lid. And my smile died. Nestled inside against a bed of stark white tissue paper weren't roses or tulips. They were flowers I'd never seen before. A deep, bruised purple, almost black. The petals were waxy and sharp, the stems twisted and thick with thorns. They looked... violent.

The sky above it distorted like heat over pavement. Jamal swore. “We are not equipped for this.” “No,” Kade agreed. “But we are connected.” He closed his eyes briefly and the threads between us brightened faintly again, barely visible. He was reaching, not outward but across the grid he had seen when suspended. Across fault lines, across stress fractures. I felt it too. The world was not smooth, it was webbed. Thin in places and strained in others. The rupture on the horizon was only one glowing wound in a network of hidden scars.

Watching. “I wanted to be seen.” “I wanted to be free.” “I wanted to disappear.” Isolde’s image flickered real and unreal collapsing into one. Meanwhile, in the control corridor, Penelope reached the Vault’s core. A sealed panel glowed red. Behind it: five fiber-optic threads thin as nerves. Each one pulsing a different shade. Blue. Red. White. Green. Black. She exhaled. “Of course it’s a literal cut-the-wire situation.”

Then— “I found something.” My chest tightens. “What.” Another pause. Longer this time. Then— “It’s not just a fragment.” The words settle like a weight. “What do you mean.” “It’s connected,” he says. “Not physically. Not directly. But… structurally.” A network. Of course it is. Of course this thing isn’t isolated. “How many,” I ask. Silence. Then— “More than we can handle.” The pressure surges. Violent this time.