Silksong 소설 & 이야기

I see no lights anywhere in the compound. Sipping my Kitsune mask on, I begin to sing. “Hello darkness, my old friend. I’ve come to talk with you again. Because a vision softly creeping. Left its seeds while I was sleeping. And the vision that was planted in my brain. Still remains. Within the sound of silence.” with my voice, the soft and eerie tune of Simon and Garfunkel held a more sinister twist.

Martha definitely deserves that vacation though. I almost fell asleep standing up in the shower, but managed to stay awake long enough to clean myself and not die from smoke inhalation from the steam coming off of the hot water that massaged my muscles. Wrapping my hair in a towel after drying myself off, I rummaged through my suitcase for something decent to wear. My hands landed on a piece of dark magenta silk fabric. I pulled it out and revealed a single shoulder strap dress with a high thigh slit in it. The neckline went down deep enough to provide just the right amount of cleavage while not parading my tits around and the back was open. Overall, I really liked this dress since the color

Sexy-wink to remove his leg from hers and dance more traditionally. He was just as good a dancer for the fast-paced swing song, and even though Kat had a harder time following some of his more complex moves, they were both laughing and grinning as he attempted to spin her through the air. At the end of the song, they were both breathless again, but for a different reason this time. Kat hoped the band would play another sensual blues number, but they started up “Sing, Sing, Sing” by Benny Goodman. “Care to take a break and get a drink?” Mr. Sexy-wink asked, wiping at the sheen of sweat on his brow.

The voice that bends emotion, weaving itself into the hearts of those who listen. Legends say the mate of a Windsong is bound deeper than fate itself. When two sing together—Windsong and fated—they create a harmony that forges a bond unbreakable, a thread of magic that ties them not only for this lifetime, but through every life that follows.

At the break of dawn, the sky split in silence. No lightning. No color. Just a thin, gleaming crack stretching from east to west that hovered like a wound unstitched above the horizon. And from that fracture came a spiral of sound, low and pulsing, impossible to record. Not music. Not words. A vibration of memory made audible. Ari felt it in her ribs. Kaima staggered, steadying himself on the edge of a bloomstone. Siran didn’t move.

"Selly, a merman's scale is one of the rarest spirit tools in this world. In my last life, I dared not easily show my form, for fear others would want to tear my scales off me. But today, I swear upon this scale that I'll protect you for the rest of my life. All I ask… is that you turn back and look at me once more." Zirion's voice was heavy with grief. It was almost like a cry of lament. Selene felt her heart soften at that. Had this been her past self, she might have agreed at once. But in this life, she couldn't do the same. She could no longer trust Zirion to have her back. She had to think about every word he spoke in her mind countless times. She couldn't help but wonder if there was s

**Kelly Thompson's POV** The new song isn't a song-it's a *snare*. The note lingers, a silver thread in the air that hums with Eden's timbre, Eden's pain. I follow it, the static in my veins pulsing like a compass needle. The Hunter trails behind, his breath uneven, his crow-feather coat singed and bloody. "This is a trap," he growls. "The Silence doesn't *sing*." "Neither do ghosts," I say, but I quicken my pace anyway.

But Silas simply held the tie between his fingers, stepping closer with calm intent. "This will help simulate the dark," he explained deeply, his voice like a steady anchor. "Close your eyes." She did, her lashes fluttering briefly before settling. He draped the silk over her eyes, tying it loosely at the back, secure but not constricting, allowing her to remove it if needed. "There. How does that feel?" The world vanished into blackness, her other senses sharpening: the faint tickle of air from the vent, the subtle scent of his cologne, woody and clean. Kyra sat still, her hands resting in her lap, fingers interlacing in a small, endearing way.

Silen. He’s sitting at the edge of the indoor fountain, long legs stretched out, dark blue hair dripping water down his shoulders. He hums softly to himself, a sound too beautiful for this cursed place. The melody winds through the air like smoke, softening everything it touches. It is a song that only a siren could produce. Bubbles immediately flattens her ears. I scoop her up before she can hiss. “Behave,” I whisper. Silen looks up when I approach, his eyes look like the ocean before a storm. “Morning, Aria,” he says, voice smooth as the song he was just humming. “You survived the night, I see.”

“You stayed when I didn’t have voice, when I was nothing but just broken parts. You saw me as your mate, your equal since day one.” My throat tightened. “I promise to stand beside you in every thick and thin. I will be your peace in chaos, your home when the world turns cold. I don’t know what the future holds, but I know this—my heart belongs to you, always.” For a moment, no one breathed. Grandpa’s solemn voice broke the stillness. “It’s time for the rings.” Damon stepped forward, holding a red velvet pillow. Two simple gold bands rested on it, engraved with one word that glimmered under moonlight. ‘Lunaris.’