A Tattered Web Novels & Stories

The defeat of the Eraser-Probes had saved the valley's soul, but it had torn the fabric of its sky. The "Final Patch" had been a blunt instrument, and where it had failed to overwrite the True Real, it had left behind jagged, iridescent scars. These were the Rifts—shimmering apertures in the atmosphere that didn't show the stars of the void, but the flickering, ghost-light of other worlds.

Bursting into the Weavers’ house, they found Old Mara backed into a corner, hand over her mouth, staring at her loom. Her tapestry was half-finished, a scene of green hills under a blue sky. Now, a jagged rip showed not the wall, but a swirling grey void. From it came a cold wind smelling like nothing, emptiness. It was a small version of the gate Liora opened. “The threads,” Mara said, trembling, pointing. “They just… broke. The world is coming apart!” As she spoke, the tears’ edges moved, eating more of the hills. Kael acted fast. He grabbed a wool blanket from a chair and threw it over the loom, covering the scary rip. The blanket bulged like something pushed from the other side, but it h

It was a fall. One blink I was staring at the dark. The next, I was standing in a sky that wasn’t a sky at all. Starless. Bottomless. A vast, black expanse stretching in every direction, no horizon, no ground. Except there was something. A web. Massive, sprawling, its threads thicker than any spider’s silk, glossy black and pulsing faintly with an inner, sick light. It stretched across the void, knots glistening where lines intersected—echoes of the seer’s map, only made flesh.

We were in the space between heartbeats. ​The Web was a forest of silver and gold, a cathedral of light that stretched in every direction. But it was not the beautiful place I remembered. It was choked with black weeds—the Dissonance—that climbed up the threads like ivy. The ghosts of the Sister Weavers flickered in the distance, their faces veiled in shadow, their hands busy with looms that produced nothing but silence. ​“It is beautiful,” Cassian whispered, his voice sounding thin and distant. “And terrifying.”

"Who are you?" "I’m the same unfortunate Alpha Andrew whose life has been destroyed by your mate. She first played with my feelings, took expensive gifts from me, and then tossed me off of her life as if I were a fly in her tea." I grabbed him by his collar before speaking, "Liar."

He accessed Lisa's mail box and clicked one of the mails. "I am sorry about the location of the first payment. I promised to choose a better location this time. I am planning to release a fresh and juicy story online sometime next month. I don't want my baby to get hurt.. you could buy your way out...you know how we roll. "What the heck?" Alex muttered and sat up. He scrolled through the mail and continued reading. 'THIS HONEY DRIPPING PUSSY BEGGED FOR ECSTASY. SHE WANTED TO RIDE ON CLOUD NINE. WITH MY ROD, I DUG INTO HER FANTASY, SETTING HER HIGH AND HIGHER JUST LIKE SHE DESIRED!'

Your messages, comments, and unwavering support have meant everything to me throughout this series. The Arden saga may have reached its conclusion, but their story will always hold a special place in my heart, as I hope it does in yours. The resilience of love in the face of impossible odds remains a theme I return to again and again in my writing, because I believe in its power—not just in fiction, but in our everyday lives. If you've enjoyed *Tangled Truths*, I warmly invite you to discover my other works. *MY HATRED, MY SOULMATE* explores another intricate dance between destiny and choice, passion and restraint. The characters there are waiting to welcome you into their world with open ar

she snapped her fingers dramatically. “You’re already a problem, Lola. Just not the academic kind.” She flipped her braids like a diva. “Exactly. Balance is the key.” The fan above us groaned as it turned slowly, like it too was tired of this routine. I let my eyes scan the room. Desks were scattered with wrappers and books half-unpacked. Chalk dust floated through slanted sunlight. Everything looked familiar and slightly drained. Like we were all waiting for the real term to begin.

Never defeated. The chamber no longer looked like a chamber. It looked like a battlefield after the losing side had prayed too late. Broken timber lay scattered across the floor. Stone dust drifted through the air in pale sheets. The torn curtains burned in slow ribbons, sending black smoke upward in twisting columns like prayers denied entry through the gates of Heaven. The bed sat at the centre of the ruin, half-stripped, one post cracked, the mattress torn where one of his claws had raked through it during the storm.

Now it was breaking. But as she checked into a quiet hotel on the outskirts of the city, another anonymous message arrived. Unknown: The cracks are showing. The board knows the engagement is fracturing. End it officially before the next vote, or we release the full party recording. Some replacements were never meant to survive the spotlight. Elena stared at the screen, tears finally falling freely. The slow unraveling had begun. And she wasn’t sure if she and Cassian could survive it.