Cubic Pink Corruption Novels & Stories

Him torn apart by drones in Neon Grave City, or shredded by mirror shards, or dragged under the carnival pier. The images flickered and smeared as my edits fought with the log. “CHAMPION UNIT FAILED TO MAINTAIN NECESSARY EMOTIONAL DISTANCE,” it added. “COMPROMISED.” Corvin smiled without humor. “The whole world built on your definition of ‘necessary,’” he said. “Ugly thing, isn’t it?” The Admin turned to Jax. “ESCORT UNIT JAX–274–303. LOW-LEVEL CORRUPTION. ATTACHMENT TO SUBJECTS.”

Greg tried to protest but Ashely stared at him and he wasn’t able to say anything in front of Ashley. Ashley patted his shoulder and said, “they are at the beginning stages of the corruption, the corruption has not taken over them Greg so you can relax there is an eight percent chance to save them.” Greg looked at her with hope and said, “really alpha? Corruption can be cured?” Ashley nodded, “yes it can be, and since I was able to see those signs at first go we know how to handle it, a pure-blood witch is the one who is going to do the purification process this is just a piece of cake for her.”

As if mocking her, there was none. ...pink carnations symbolize the love of a woman–or a mother, do they not? Underneath her breath, the Princess quietly released a dry, ugly bitter excuse of a laugh as she slowly crushed the offending flower in her grip until it crumpled and withered within her small hand that has strangled, stabbed and stolen lives. (Her youth was irrelevant. Her hands weren’t clean. It was as dirty as them.) She has done… things. Horrible, frightful things beyond their imagination ever since the queen poisoned her, things that often kept her up on some nights, telling herself over and over again that whatever she had done, she only did it because there was no other way.

All three of them said it in unison, and I knew I'd just made a terrible mistake. "Okay, so which one are you starting with?" Zoe asked, leaning forward. I thought about it. Tomorrow I was supposed to go to Zyran's house again—something about meeting the security team and going over protocols. I'd be there for a few hours at least. Plenty of time. "Disgust," I said. "I'll start with disgust." "Ooh, good choice." Arabella was already typing on her phone. "Do you have a plan?" "Not yet. But I'll figure something out."

"The cub. It's responding to your power use. You awakened something in them." "Them?" But before she could answer, pink light exploded from my belly. So bright I had to shield my eyes. When it faded, I looked down. A perfect pink handprint glowed on my stomach. Right where Nolan had placed his hand days ago. But now there was something else. Words. Written in pink light across my skin. Ancient lycan script. I couldn't read it. But somehow I understood it. "Three mates shall the pink wolf claim." Oh goddess.

Althea recoiled sharply. Varis noticed instantly. “You hear it too.” It was not a question. Althea looked at him in horror. “What is happening to him?” Varis hesitated. Too long. Dorian answered instead. “The corruption adapted to the counterpart bond.” The High Arbiter stepped forward slowly now, suppression weapon still glowing in his hand. “If the corruption reaches synchronization—” “It won’t,” Althea snapped immediately. Dorian’s gaze remained cold. “You don’t know that.”

"It's all fake! You made this up! Why are you trying to ruin me? Where on earth did you get this recording, Mabel?" Peter was worried that Vivian would end up with a murder charge, so he struck her right on the back of the head, causing her to collapse heavily to the ground and lose consciousness. Meanwhile, Brandon had completely checked out, just standing there on the spot without moving an inch.

Two days after I died, a strange smell began to seep from my room. Mom paused mid-step as she walked past my door and covered her nose. "That brat must be hoarding leftovers in there again and turning her room into a pigsty! It reeks!" I floated nearby and watched her grab a box of mothballs from the cabinet. Then, she got down on her hands and knees and shoved them one by one through the crack of my door, trying to cover up the smell of death.

In their place, a single, high-density hexadecimal ledger was frozen across the central display, its data strings illuminating the room in a clinical, bloodless glow. Yet, my processing units were entirely focused on a localized anomaly that my security protocols could not purge. Directly over my left pectoral muscle, the black tactical fabric of my compression top was warped by a stiff, dried smudge of deep violet acrylic pigment. The paint had cured into the very weave of the synthetic fibers, leaving a messy, chaotic brand exactly where Phoebe’s open, wet palm had slammed against my chest bare minutes ago. I had not changed the garment. I had refused to execute a standard decontamination

Nonetheless, if Francis can separate corruption from the infected, we can save the King, stop Adrian’s premature forced marriage, and end all of this. “It’s not the corruption,” Omar killed my hopes. “Well, at least not in the current state. It has been purified into the perpetrator's life force. Holding two different energies was slowly killing you." His explanation had me worried. "I could have died from this?" "Yes, but it would have taken at least a year with this amount." Francis reinforces, alleviating my racing mind. "You can use this to find the culprit. The pendant will glow purple when close to its owner." Francis explains, placing the trinket around my neck.