Stigma Of The Wind の小説・ストーリー

Kaizoran says, motioning at Hazran to continue out there. Hazran nods before he walks to the door and glances back at me. “I agree with Kaizoran… do not wrong him.” ----- There’s a deadly wind today… the sky is full of ash and smoke, getting into my eyes and throat. A storm… one that I have never seen the likes of before. Yes, I stand here at my window, refusing to draw the curtains staring - out at it. Kaizoran’s words have replayed in my mind for hours, the tremble in Agnarr’s voice…

Still, the wind continued to howl, with its frrr rr rrr growing louder by the moment, and visibility was creeping closer to zero than ever. Rhina pushed forward, but at a very slow pace, not because she wasn’t trying her best to battle the storm. Her hands were turning bright red and her feet were starting to feel numb. How much farther can I go like this? She asked herself. The wind howled even louder as if to say to her, “You will not be allowed to go any farther! This will be your resting place! You and your friend are destined to die here, together! Accept your fate, stubborn little human! It’s impossible to win a fight against Mother Nature!”

She also said that the scars looked painful. I was taken aback. Sean would never know the pain of the knife cutting my hand. He would never feel sorry for me. He would just blame me for being stupid and doing everything wrong. I shook my head to push those negative thoughts away. I told my mom I was hungry for her cooking. Once we got home, I received a call from an unknown number. When I saw that it was from North City, I immediately rejected the call. However, this person called me five times in a row.

He looks up at the ceiling and asks, “Why, Miles? What drove you to do it?” The drugs are pulling me back down into the dark and my voice sounds like someone else’s when I answer: “Poison prayer got stuck in my mind, like a bad seed caught in a wheel . . . dropped here and took root.” Joe snaps his fingers near my closed eyes. I’m falling through drops of flame. “Miles. You’re not making sense. What made you do it?” “Snow in my bones . . . beast in my blood . . . wind in my heart.”

Emily had always thrown her weight around at the company and had offended countless people. Once the PowerPoint slides were sent out, people who knew the inside story started speaking up. Emily's name stayed on the trending list for days—everyone knew her. Word was, she didn't even dare step outside anymore. Vincent tried everything, but the more he tried to explain himself, the more people talked. As the company's stock kept tanking, he flew overseas to find me. I shut my phone with a mocking smile. I should have known. Vincent would never leave the country for me.

"Does your leg still hurt a lot?" He lowered his voice. "When we get back, I'll contact Professor Weaver. He has a new specialty drug from overseas. It's supposed to be best for scars. I won't let you end up with one." Ivy raised her eyes. They slid over his face, calm and empty, then drifted past him to Florence, who was lifting the hem of her dress and hurrying over. Both their faces were faintly red from alcohol. Ivy saw it clearly. Bitterness rose in her throat.

Nix said and looked at Willow. “Yes, he could, does she understand that?” he nodded toward Stacy. It was at that moment that Majesta noticed he was pissed off at Stacy for being so stupid. It wasn’t that Stacy was stupid; she was a warrior at heart. The fight was how she dealt with the death of the love of her life.

Amaya nodded at this slowly before sighing and playing with the bottom of her jumper. A few moments passed with Ash's face heating up in an embarrassed blush as he huffed at his own stupidity before returning to his serious stance when Amaya spoke. "Thank you." She smiled at the man sadly, finally looking up from her lap briefly. "No one has ever cared about me this much." She continued sadly. Ash frowned at the words and rubbed his hands over his eyes roughly before nodding at the statement, finally realising how cruel their society was, despite it being blatantly obvious since the beginning of time itself.

And the wind never stopped. It dragged across the wasteland in long, hollow breaths, carrying with it a sound that refused to settle into anything human. It whispered. A thousand voices layered together. Soft. Broken. Pleading. Like Omegas mourning something the world could no longer remember. At the center of it all stood the ruins of the Stain Estate. What had once been a fortress of power and defiance was now a fractured skeleton of steel and stone. Half-collapsed walls leaned into each other like exhausted giants. Exposed wiring hung like veins ripped from a body. And deep inside there was still light.