Corrupt Sans Novels & Stories

Sir Frost asked, “You really live up to your name, hm?” Sir Sanscroft tensed. “Kin slayer…” Sir Frost goaded. “Enough, Sir Frost!” Sir Crossram snapped. ‘What?” the other knight laughed, “It was a rhetorical question, what are you so worked up for, old man? It’s not like it was true, yes?” “My relation to that man does not matter,” Sir Sanscroft hissed, “Why should it? I’ll disown myself from the House of Sans if it means never sharing anything from the likes of that snake ever again.”

A violent cascade of blue sparks erupted from the ruined console, casting frantic, erratic shadows across the cedar-paneled walls of the library before the entire dashboard died, plunging the rear of the room into a deep, heavy dark. The blood-red text warning of the Valletta marriage registry validation vanished, replaced by a cold, green error loop that spun aimlessly in the corner of the secondary monitor: REGISTRY STATUS: FATAL ARCHIVE CORRUPTION. HEIR IDENTIFIER: UNVERIFIED / DISCONTINUED.

That’s what scares me. “Status,” I say. Rowan doesn’t look up from his laptop. “Feed’s viral. ‘Luna binds seven’ is trending. ‘Containment’ is trending. ‘D.C. barefoot’ is trending.” He winces. “So is ‘Tree price.’ Someone in the pack leaked Eli.” “Not leaked,” Wrath says from the door. “Shared. They’re proud of him.” Eli barks a laugh. Turns into coughing. Cove hands him water.

She paused, turning her head toward the sound, and there she saw her. Timtim. Dressed in a soft cotton saree, hair loosely pinned, skin pale from what seemed like a fever. She stood by the railing of the staircase, pressing a handkerchief to her lips as a sudden cough shook her small frame. Sana’s lips curled into a bitter smirk. Of course she’s weak. Of course she can’t even handle a change in weather without falling sick. Such fragile little dolls are only good for decoration. But before she could savor that thought, a blur of movement caught her eyes. Aariz.