This Damned Thirst For Survival Novels & Stories

Survival skews morality into a different axis; sometimes you choose the lesser evil and call it victory. Damien slept poorly that night. I watched him once, the silhouette of a man who had bled for me, slept in bursts of violence interrupted by guilt. I wanted to go to him and press my forehead to his, to promise him that I would be the woman who chose him instead of the throne. But a part of me had started to prefer the taste of the machine’s logic. It was clean. It did not ask for forgiveness.

The flicker of temptation she couldn’t quite smother. I raised my own glass, letting the light fracture against the red swirl, and took a slow sip. “To survival,” I murmured. Her jaw clenched. She sat frozen, stubborn. I leaned back, every inch of me relaxed, watching her from across the flame-lit battlefield. “You hate me. I know.” My voice rolled low, intimate. “But hate is fuel. It sharpens you. It keeps you alive. Do you know what dulls you, Selena?”

I asked scared of the words that will follow. “She’s a liability. Once we get what we want, we kill her. Well I’ll kill her. I don’t work to find an inoperable mortal. It’s degrading for my statue” she finished hissing. Clearly outraged by the fact that she couldn’t get what she wanted. ‘Max, you better run wherever you are’ I prayed hoping for the best for her.

 From the deepest desires often come the deadliest hate. -socrates THE SAME NIGHT The low howling of the flesh eating predatory creatures of the dark can be clearly heard from where she lay on yet another murky mattresses. It was an irony indeed that from the ill-fated night two moons ago when she had crossed path with that so called prince for the first time. She had been reduced into but a common maid. Had eaten nothing but stale distasteful cookery, eversince. Sometimes boiled rice with wild beans and now dried chapattis with nothing but chopped onions to pass the days...........and at nights waited her an old flattened mattress, reminding of more unfortunate times when there was nothing

" he questioned. Silence fell over us. As expected, the only way to deal with this was to fight fire with fire. "Are you okay?" the system asked carefully. "Can you check if I'm still intact? Or have I already been reduced to ashes?" I asked in my mind. "The good news is that we're stuck in the middle of a plot point, so we're not dead yet." Then, it added sheepishly, "The bad news is that your supposed downfall is coming ahead of schedule, but neither of them has broken things off with you yet. If this continues, we'll be stuck here forever. None of us will be able to return home!"

"Survive, and you may live to witness the next trial. Fail, and you will remain lost... forever." The last word echoed across the desert, with disturbing chill. She looked back at the hourglass, watching the red sand fall. Tick. Tick. Tick. The clock had started. * * *

She could stand the ripped skin, broken bones, cuts, piercings, and bruises as long as her body remained intact, which was quite impossible in her current state. ‘No. These wild animals are nothing compare to the beast I saw last night. Who says I will die with just these minions?’ Survival made people greedy, selfish, and sometimes caused them to neglect the good nature they had within and welcomed the worse side of their very existence. A death and life situation could bring one’s true heartfelt feelings, bringing out the strength that one wouldn’t expect to have. Desperation was always fueled by fear and desire. And Layla’s lust for power and life was yet extinguished.

No matter who I had to manipulate. No matter what line I had to cross. Because survival had always been the one thing I was best at. And I wasn’t about to lose now. Especially not when I had come this far. Not when Amelia was rising or now when Henry was watching. Not when everything was beginning to close in. I would survive. I always did. Even if it meant destroying someone else to do it. ***

he said quietly, “it won’t spare us.” “No,” I agreed. “It won’t.” Another tremor rolled through the ground, deeper this time. Far away, a howl rose, not from our estate, but from somewhere distant and fractured. It was answered by another. Then another. Not harmony. It was more of a summons. I swallowed, fingers curling into a fist as the Crescent burned brighter still. “I used to think survival meant running,” I said. “Leaving before the damage could reach us.” Xavier’s voice was steady, resolute. “And now?”

“Scared of… losing myself… or losing you… or losing everyone.” “Then don’t,” he whispered. “Not tonight. Not ever. We build from here. We survive. Together.” The moon climbed higher, casting long silver shadows across the ruins. Wolves stirred in the distance, the echo of their howls rippling across the city, signaling survival, dominance, and renewal. I let my gaze sweep across the destruction and the scattered survivors, knowing the path ahead would be hard, dangerous, and uncertain. But I felt the first spark of something I hadn’t allowed myself in months: hope.