Swan Song Novels & Stories

(CHALK NIGHTMARE) “DEATH, DIE, THE DEAD.” An eerie song is echoing all around the place and under the bright full moon. The melody of the song will bring chills down anyone’s spine. Making all the gentle animals around hide in fear, while the owl coos and the ravens are screaming. In that not-so-dead night, Gennivier is singing the song while marking the points and the necessary corners in the middle of the biggest pentagram and where they are about to open the gate and fulfill the end most perfectly.

Previously, What more reason do I have to try living? You were my Ikigai and still you are. Everything was bearable just because of you. Now that my heart bleeds in the cold lone night, and you are not here to get me through it all, make it all so hard. What am I supposed to do now? Why is my life only filled with winter and darkness? Why does it have to be me? Why only me? Why doesn't the heavens want me to be happy? Knowing he doesn't want me, knowing he broke my heart I can't stop myself from loving him. I still love him. I still love him and I hate myself for that. I am so scared to die. Scared of not being able to see his face after I die.

“Yes, you can.” He pulled her up, and then he pulled her close as the music went on. A slower song from the eighties that he would struggle with to remember as they all seemed to sound the same, but this would be something to him and hopefully her. He brought her closer to him and held her in the darkness of the surrounding night swaying to the song. When it was over, he looked down at her face as her eyes were closed, and she looked at peace for a moment.

I'm not worried about our city central. Thorne Tower and the penthouse above it were already an impenetrable fortress, entirely insulated from this mess. And that's where the little swan is nested. As long as she stays there she's safe. "We let them step into Vegas, and then we bury them."

The runner’s gaze drops, and for the first time he looks… uncertain. Nate watches the shift like a man reading a lock. Then he says, gently, brutally: “You’re expendable. But the people you’ve been helping kill aren’t.” The runner’s throat works. Finally, he whispers, “Operation Nightfall.” The room tightens. Melody’s pen appears instantly. “Define.” “Dawn,” the runner says, voice rough. “Before the palace shifts wake guards. One last crash attempt. Through linens again. If that fails, through the King.”

Instead, he promised to make me suffer until the moment I die. He cracked my bones piece by piece, then soaked me in salt water. I endured that pain for three years. In the end, my corpse was dumped into the sea. But what I found laughable was that at the moment my soul was fading away, I saw Gemma return in all her glory. She didn't die at all. Instead, she had become the new Donna of the Moreno Family. They put on a public display for the media, feigning a reunion after a tragic love story and reveling in everyone's blessings. Meanwhile, I was just the foolish sacrificial lamb in their tale of love.

By acknowledged pain. The wraith’s song softens. Its terrible, beautiful lament finds a resolution it never knew it needed. Not an end to the pain, but a purpose for it. Its voice becomes part of the Cage’s new music, a permanent, sorrowful bass note that gives the whole symphony depth, meaning, a heartbreaking beauty.

to his fvcking question. These drunk nincompoops ! Pfft. I am gonna sue each one of them !! Someone just fvck me ! What do I sing now ? “Sing for mate,” Creon suggested. “But what ?” I asked back through the mindlink. “Ask for his forgiveness,” Micalo supplied. “Sing BTS’s ‘Spring Day’. Dedicate the song to him,” he added. “Hmm. Good idea ! But hey !! Since when did you get so smart in the music department ?” I asked my wolf.

​The Andromeda Slipstream didn't just carry the Unified Fleet across the parsecs; it acted as a sensory deprivation tank. Inside the Respiration’s living hull, the "Song of the Still-World"—the new verse gifted by the liberated Silent-Caste—vibrated like a cold, silver needle. It was a frequency of Persistence, a low-end hum that felt like the groaning of tectonic plates.

to his fvcking question. These drunk nincompoops ! Pfft. I am gonna sue each one of them !! Someone just fvck me ! What do I sing now ? “Sing for mate,” Creon suggested. “But what ?” I asked back through the mindlink. “Ask for his forgiveness,” Micalo supplied. “Sing BTS’s ‘Spring Day’. Dedicate the song to him,” he added. “Hmm. Good idea ! But hey !! Since when did you get so smart in the music department ?” I asked my wolf.