Ruins Dust Sans Novels & Stories

Kael lunged forward to shield the group. Ianthe braced against the wind. Eryx dug his sword into the ground. Rian curled behind them. Seraphine screamed even unconscious. When the light faded. The manifestation was gone. Only dust remained. Black, corrupted dust, swirling like ash blown apart by the wind. Alessia lowered her blade. The square was silent, then Kael spoke. “Alessia.” His voice was quiet and reverent. She turned slightly. “Yes?” “You just… destroyed a manifestation.”

He stood for a while with his eyes closed, coming to his senses, and when normal vision returned, he looked around the clearing. A clearing on which grass does not grow, on which there are no bushes, and stone skeletons of walls bulging out of the bare earth. The ruins of buildings barely rose, the bricks lay in piles of rubble, in some places the outlines of foundations were visible. But for the most part, jagged teeth of masonry stuck out of the ground.

This man I’d sacrificed so much for was now standing there, watching me bleed out, unwilling to even spare me a glance. Smiling, I slowly raised a hand to the bullet casing pendant around my neck. With a small tug, the chain snapped. The casing clattered to the ground, bounced once, then rolled into a crack and vanished without a trace.

*Dedication* For the ones who swore they weren’t into MM until it was Bram and Renzo. You lied. And you liked it. I wrote this for you. Welcome Home Sinner:) **************************************************** RENZO POV “He’s awake.” The voice sounded far away like it had to cut through thick water to reach me. My head throbbed, not just with pain, but with pressure. Like my skull was full of gunpowder and someone had already lit the fuse. My throat was dry. My chest felt heavy. And every inch of my body screamed like I’d been hit by a damn truck.

I gestured at my ruined makeup. "You look like someone who's done pretending. Trust me, that's never terrible." He settled back in the seat. "Besides, Sandy's Diner has a strict 'no judgment' policy. Says so right on the door, right under the 'We reserve the right to serve extra fries to sad customers' sign." I let myself smile genuinely. "You made that last part up." "Maybe." His eyes crinkled at the corners. "Only one way to find out though."

​ “I don't need you. I'll fight for myself.” ​ “What’s your plan?” ​ I parted my lips to say something, but words failed me. ​ “I’ll destroy Dave and Aurora. In return, you will submit yourself to me.” Don's eyes burned into mine, waiting for my answer. ​

Or maybe my hands were not entirely steady. “I've never actually…” I trailed off. “I know,” Luka said. “So don't use it unless you absolutely have to. You understand me?” “I nodded.” He pointed toward the foundation of the building where a tiny gate was fixed. “You're going in through there.” I looked at it for a long moment and wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. “That's a fucking garbage sewer,” I said. “Yep.” It looks like a crawlspace. A very small crawlspace.

“You just made yourself his enemy.” After school, Robert drives me back to the mansion and the ache comes out of nowhere that I wonder if mom’s also thinking about me, wherever she is or if she ever regrets leaving. Robert notices my silence. “You okay back there, Miss June?” “Fine.” I lie, staring out the window at the manicured lawns and perfect hedges that line the estate. He gives me a look in the rearview mirror before pulling up to the service entrance. As I take the stairs down to the main floor, intending to slip out to the gardens as I discovered a quiet corner behind the rose bushes where no one could bother me but voices stop me in my tracks.

Ash tried to scream, to throw his sword, but he was too slow. Rhea didn't flinch. She didn't even raise her hands. She simply opened her mouth. The sound that came out wasn't a scream. It wasn't a howl. It was a roar that seemed to come from the very bowels of the earth, a sound so loud and so alien that it caused the obsidian trees to shatter into dust. It was the roar of a world being unmade. It was the sound of the Ruin.

Dawn light filters through the torn canvas in pale gold streaks, painting the ruined interior of my tent in soft hues. The storm has finally moved on, leaving behind a heavy silence broken only by the occasional whisper of settling sand. The air smells of spent myrrh, cooling sweat, and the faint metallic tang of the desert after rain. Bolts of silk lie scattered everywhere, many of them marked by our bodies and dusted with fine grit.