Scp Tides Of War Novels & Stories

I needed air. The hallways felt huge and ghostly without him. Every footstep I took seemed to echo forever. The staff members were scurrying around with their heads down, whispering to each other in the shadows. As I rounded a corner, I overheard two of them talking. “...Black Tide is going to fight back hard,” one whispered. “Did you see the gear they took? How many men are with him?” “This isn't just a mission. This is war. Total war.”

The deep sight wireframe targeted the remaining two Leviathans as they struggled to stand up in the crushing dark. The Tide had spent months trying to drown my world. They had forced me into corners, broken my bones, and nearly frozen my apprentice to death. I engaged the hydrostatic thrusters in my calves and blurred across the ocean floor toward the remaining targets. The war was no longer about survival. It was about eviction.

I strip off the t-shirt and make my way into the water, goosebumps erupt on my skin from how cold the water is. “Alright Siren, time to come out.” I mutter. I can feel my Siren’s excitement as she pushes herself forward, my teeth sharpening to points, my eyes bleeding black, and my legs turning into a tail with beautiful iridescent blue scales. Time to sing bitch. Covey says with a cackle. And so, I sang, I started with one of my favorite songs Far Side of the World by the band Tide Lines from the Human Realm. The water starts to swirl around me as I sing, since there isn’t a command in my song, the water doesn’t go anywhere.

A faint star, beyond the wastes, in the sea cliffs. Lyra’s shard flickered, her voice, my voice, soft but certain. The remnants mentioned it, she said, her eyes distant, like she saw the city’s spires instead of sand. The Tide, they called it, a node not forged but found, where the Veil touches the world’s edge, not chaos but… something else, older, wilder. The shades there aren’t chaos, they’re tides, bound to the trinity, to us. Killian groaned, rubbing his bruised shoulder, his face grim. "Tides, shades, echoes," he muttered, "can’t we just deal with a storm or a bandit crew? I’m done with magical nonsense trying to kill us."

And most importantly, what did they want with us? "I hope you can swim," the one at my back whose dark mask had red stitching on one cheek said. "Are we going for a swim?" My blonde friend asked. The other one chuckled, "Something like that." With a grimace, red stitching bent and pushed open a hole in the ground covered by a metal lid. The smell that wafted up was rancid. I covered my nose and my eyes watered. "What's in there?" Trish asked in a small, unsure voice.

And all I can do is stand there and cry. *** Chase. Hours later... Sunday, 14th February. 3am. Music pulses faintly through the ornate walls of Marv Bowman’s ridiculously opulent bedroom. Downstairs, the party is alive. Marv celebrating his latest corporate victory. A few hours ago, he secured a major contract to manufacture warships for the naval units of two countries. A handsome payment came through our bank. I remember watching his press conference earlier. His smug face. His polished smile.

The clouds were moving faster now. Something was coming. Damien noticed it too. "What's happening?" Marrine didn't answer. "What's happening?" She stepped toward the water. "Go." "Why?" "Damien, go!" The sea began pulling backward. The tide retreated unnaturally. Water rushed away from the beach. Fish flopped helplessly in the exposed sand. Damien stared. "What the hell?" Marrine looked terrified. Not of him. Of the ocean. "It's here." "What is?"

I groaned in frustration, grappling with the pain and confusion. The pain reached a crescendo, and in a desperate bid for relief, I released it. The pent-up power surged outward, the sheer force toppling trees in its wake before enveloping me in a shimmering fog. I shut my eyes against the flood of memories carried by the fog, but resistance was futile. I was transported once more, this time into the Alpha's mate.

Tasted blood that wasn’t human. We broke apart. Circled. “Stop!” Isla was pulling at the chains. The wards burned her. Her skin smoked. She didn’t stop. “Lucian! Darius! Stop! Please!” We didn’t. Darius raised his hand. The air changed. It got heavy. It got hot. The water in the lake started to steam. “Technique,” he said. “Black Tide.” The lake rose. Not a wave. A wall. Twenty feet high. Black water, full of things that weren’t water. It hung there. Then it fell.

As the oxygen ran out, she suffocated, unable even to make a sound. Lucian’s breathing turned ragged, tears streaming down his face. "Stop… stop talking!" Still, Officer Shaw pressed on, striking deeper. "Do you know what attracted the fish? The victim had just undergone an abortion the day before. She was soaked in cold seawater, bleeding heavily. That’s what drew them in." "Ah—! Ahhh!" Lucian howled, slamming his head against the table. Even though he was quickly restrained, his forehead split open, blood pouring down his face.