Thicker Than Water Novels & Stories

Sound came first. Not a single sound, not a clean one but layers crashing atop one another, they were jagged, overlapping, indistinct. A shriek of metal coming apart at the seams. A low, bone-rattling thump. Then something else beneath it all, constant and numbingly endless. Water. It bellowed like a living thing, devouring everything else.

"It's not a Collector. It's something structural. The thin spot is widening around it like a wound stretching open." Jack pushed the transport to maximum velocity. The Atlantic Ocean below was wrong. The convergence point had tripled in size, a vast disc of mirror-smooth dead water that now stretched for fifty miles in every direction. Steam rose where the dead water met the living ocean, and the boundary line was migrating outward.

Instead, I pressed forward, my body moving fluidly as I squeezed through the opening. The moment I crossed the threshold, a strange sensation washed over me—like passing through an invisible veil. The water inside was darker, thicker almost, but still easy to navigate. The vibrations I had felt before were stronger now, pulsing against my skin, guiding me forward. The tunnel was longer than I expected. The deeper I swam, the more my chest tightened, sure I could stay for days without bothering, I could survive off the oxygen in the water. But I was slightly panicked by the tight space it was making my body think it would run out of air soon.

"And then the next hint: frost on the earth. Frost is a layer of ice that forms on a solid surface, when the air contains more water vapor than it can normally hold at a specific temperature. And with so much vapor in that marsh, don't you think it would freeze over?" Frank smiled in wry amusement. "Forget the marsh—plenty of parts of the north would freeze over even if the vapor around wasn't that dense." Sylvie smiled, nodding. "In other words, the maestro was trying to tell us that his tomb is where the frost is the thickest." Frank nodded. "But if Jeeves' community could turn their neighborhood inside out, why haven't the people of Huxlem done the same?" "Don't forget about the undercurr

It was thinner than a spider's silk, and just as easily broken. But it was there

BOOK FIVE: THE LUNAR ECLIPSE (Jace’s Perspective) If you want to cut through solid steel, you don't use a hammer. You use water. You compress it, you focus it into a microscopic point, and you fire it at a high enough velocity. Under absolute pressure, water doesn't just flow; it acts as an indestructible blade. I stared at the broken charcoal on my drafting table. "It's not coming over the coastal wall," I said, my voice dropping to a rapid, calculating whisper. "The gravity shield repels mass on the surface. But the Hive-Mind knows that. It isn't going to fire this bullet through the air."

A massive, towering wall of boiling, green-tinted water and superheated steam shot three hundred feet into the midnight sky, tearing through the center of the bay with the force of a volcanic eruption. The leading three sea-wolf warships were caught directly in the localized geyser. The leviathan oil caking their hulls did not protect them from the sheer, crushing pressure of the boiling channel; the superheated water melted the grease in seconds, exposing the raw, cold iron plates to the sudden, extreme thermal expansion. The metal warped, cracked, and shattered with deafening, metallic screeches, sending tons of boiling sea water pouring into the holds as the massive vessels broke in half

I have already dived towards the gate. I am thrown into the deep, dark depths of the sea. The water here stings, like there are remnants of Hell’s water mixed into it. It feels like swimming into diluted acid. If a normal person tries to swim in these waters, there’s no doubt in my mind that their skin will end up peeling and they will go blind.

I fell to the fall, holding my left cheek, wondering what just happened. “Don't you ever talk to me in that manner! Do you understand, you piece of shit?” Mr. Red eye fumed standing before me. Then and there, I realized I had been slapped until my eyes rolled backwards. I stared into his eyes and I realized, unlike the other night, his eyes were a deep shade darker. The stinging pain on my cheek stopped me from thinking, and tears streamed down my face. I watched as he slowly walked towards me and in reflex, I crawled backwards. The air seemed to have become stiffer, and the hairs on my body stood on end. I crawled backwards still holding my left cheek and tears streaming down my face making

That shift that makes the hairs on the back of your neck rise before your mind even catches up. Water still hissed, pouring down in sheets that no longer felt like just water. It hit their skin like a hundred thousand tiny pins, and each one stung. The steam clung thicker now, a second skin, slicking everything, wrapping them in something that wasn’t just heat anymore it was heavy, aware. It curled into the corners, dripped down the tiles, slid down their bodies like fingers that didn’t belong to any of them. It filled the space like a living thing that had learned how to breathe.