Ryth Novels & Stories

Echoes of chanting drifted up from below—low rhythmic words that made the stone hum. Riven whispered. “Cells are down the spiral stair. Violet light ahead.” We descended fast. The air grew colder thicker with the stink of old iron and burnt herbs. At the bottom the lower hall opened wide. Nyra knelt in the center of a fresh-carved ritual circle. The fragment stone glowed violent purple in her hands pressed to the floor. Thorn stood inside the bars of his cell chains still on but cracking visibly along the links. Violet energy snaked from the stone into the metal feeding the fractures.

A broken laugh dissolved immediately back into a moan as he drove deeper, harder, the grip at my throat tightening just enough to pull every sensation into sharp devastating focus. "Right there— don't stop—" "Never," he moaned. “You are so sweet and tight. He didn't stop, as if he was out of control. It broke open, a wave so complete and so long I lost track of everything.. My voice, my breath, my grip on the sheets. Rythan thrust through every second of it, wringing out every last tremor, before finishing with a raw groan against the back of my neck. We collapsed in a tangle, Zithan pulled me against his chest,

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“But you and him, it would be different. Tyrith always did what you asked him. I bet he would come if you asked him. No, if you call him right now and say ‘Tyrith, I need you’, he would be here faster than the speed of light. If they locked the two of you in a room, Tyrith would let you dominate him. But what I can’t stop trying to imagine is how he looks in bed. Do those round eyes glow with his arousal? Does his smooth whisky colored skin get red? Do his cheeks get flush? Those lips. Perfect lips. They always were red. Do they get crimson when he’s kissed? What do his pheromones smell like when he’s turned on? Does he let it loose or does he conserve it? What…” I tried not to hear what els

"The rhythm is a description of the elemental laws governing that dimension. If we can map the rhythm, we can anticipate the chaos." We immediately established a deep-link channel with Commander Rix at the Silicon Spire. Rix, the master of Ice and Geometry, was best suited to translate the organic pulse into measurable fractal data. Rix's projection appeared, cool and focused, against the throbbing dimensional map. "Regulators, the rhythm is a non-linear, constantly compounding wave.It's built on a primary beat Mela’s discipline but every subsequent beat introduces a new, uncalculated variable before returning to the base pulse."

Kiran turned to look at Malachi and he nodded his head as well. “Kiran Sinclair, step forth and claim the first incision,” Malachi said, and I looked at the knife in Kiran’s hand. Aegishjalmur, Valknut, Triskelion, Yggdrasil, Gungnir, and Mjolnir were etched on the handle, the symbols of our ancestors and our history.

Rhea introduced herself. "And the last but not the least! My name is Jordan! Aka Summer's most gorgeous friend ever! But you can call me Jor or Dan for short! Maybe we can be friends so that I can teach you sense of—ouch!" He didn't finished his speech because Rhea smacked the back of his head. Greka raised an eyebrow at him and her attention went back on me. 'can I kill him?' she mouthed and I glared at her.

Agnes bade her father goodnight and walked down the stone stairs, crossing the quiet courtyard toward the cliffs. Rhys stood at the edge of the granite precipice, where the dark ocean waves crashed against the rocks two hundred feet below. He wore simple dark trousers and a heavy wool coat left open, exposing his chest. The **Apex Core** hummed quietly beneath his skin, its violet-and-gold light pulsing in a slow, hypnotic rhythm that matched the cadence of the tide. As Agnes approached, Rhys didn't turn around, but his arm opened, inviting her into his side. Agnes slid smoothly against his broad frame, her arm wrapping around his waist as he pulled his coat over her shoulders to block the c

I said and I closed my eyes and Zara pulled the quiver over her back. I ported us to Nick’s pack and it was chaos. People were running and screaming and I focused my attention on the witches as the rest of my pack shifted and started attacking. Upon seeing us arrive more people shifted and joined in the fight. I walked swiftly towards the witches and in my head I snapped their necks as I chanted. “Slíta háls.” I kept moving forward, anger pulsating through me. “Skéra óst,” I said as I looked at another one and I saw the gaping wound on her throat as I cut it open with magic.

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Dawn came thin and grey, leaching the world of color. Rhea kicked at bedrolls with scant mercy. “Up. If you’re not on your feet in two minutes, I’m feeding your boots to the horses.” Rin surfaced from a shallow, knot‑tight sleep with a jaw full of grit and a spine that ached in three places. Her dreams clung—stone, chanting, a knife whose edge she never quite saw—then shredded under cold air and motion.