Unspoken Tides Novels & Stories

"He’s calling for The Hand. He says the door didn't close all the way. He says the 'Void' followed us through." The Breach of the Unwritten The emotional weight of the reunion died instantly as the ocean began to Drain. Not into the horizon, but into a single, vertical line in the center of the bay. The water didn't fall; it unmade itself. The deep blue turned into a jagged, ink-black static—the same "Unwritten" material from the Pre-Existence. From the center of the black static, a figure emerged. It wasn't a ship, and it wasn't a Reaper.

Suddenly, a cold breeze cut through, followed by a harsh cough from behind. I turned to see Jodie, her hand over her mouth. It almost looked like she was trying to cough up her lungs. Carter quickly stepped forward, draping his jacket over her shoulders. "What's going on? Is it the burn from yesterday flaring up, or have you caught a cold?" Jodie shot me a smug look. But just as quickly, she bowed her head and hacked out a few more coughs. "Maybe it's the strong winds from the recent typhoon. I think I've caught a cold..."

I whisper. This time, the tears don’t feel like weakness. They feel like healing. Like something finally beginning. ************************ Unspoken Desires - Book 3…. Coming Soon

Meanwhile, he seemed to notice every small movement I made. The stark contrast made her clench her hands tightly, her nails digging into her palms. Even though she had heard that I’d lost my memory, she didn’t believe it. Unwilling to stay silent, she casually brought up past events several times. Each time, George smoothly changed the subject until the warning in his gaze toward her became increasingly obvious, reminding her not to overstep again. Under that look, Josie felt a chill run down her spine. In the end, she didn’t dare speak recklessly anymore.

I felt my own hand move without deciding to, settling against his forearm, fingers curling slightly into the fabric. One of us was going to close the last fraction of space between us, and the other was not going to stop them, and we both knew it and were staying, suspended, in the last possible moment before it became something you cannot un-become. Then Lucas made a sound. Not words. Just a small, sleepy, involuntary sound, the kind children make when they shift in their sleep, already unconscious again before it had fully left him. But it was enough. Julien stilled.

BOOK FOUR: THE ABYSSAL TIDE (Jace’s Perspective) You cannot negotiate with the ocean. The ocean does not have a heartbeat; it has a tide. And for the first time in a century, the tide was listening to the earth. I stood at the very edge of the massive, stone-paved docks of the Aethelgard harbor. The air was thick with the smell of salt brine, raw kelp, and the sharp, metallic tang of hot slag.

As the oxygen ran out, she suffocated, unable even to make a sound. Lucian’s breathing turned ragged, tears streaming down his face. "Stop… stop talking!" Still, Officer Shaw pressed on, striking deeper. "Do you know what attracted the fish? The victim had just undergone an abortion the day before. She was soaked in cold seawater, bleeding heavily. That’s what drew them in." "Ah—! Ahhh!" Lucian howled, slamming his head against the table. Even though he was quickly restrained, his forehead split open, blood pouring down his face.

I said, my voice finally sounding like my own again, though it carried a weight it hadn't possessed before the War of the Six. "More than a mystery," Nathaniel said, pointing to a flickering projection of the sea floor. "The receding of the Great Tide during the battle with Solis exposed things that haven't seen the light for ten thousand years. We’re picking up massive energy signatures from the trenches. They aren't volcanic, and they aren't abyss-born. They’re... ancestral."

The aftermath of the Hudson Surge had left New York and the world in a state of "Grounded Awareness." The indigo handprints on the Battery Park floodwalls remained as a shimmering, permanent testament to the power of collective presence. But as the floodwaters receded, a new problem emerged: the "Unscripted Era" had no map. Without the automated "Sync" of the Global Council, the world was a collection of seven billion individual islands, each vibrating at its own frequency, unlinked and unverified.

Leaning close, he whispered, "Your situation is different. She might not be able to handle it. Give her this. It'll make things easier." I nodded, understanding what he meant. Then I took Julia's hand and led her toward the small wooded area behind us. The night was deep and dim. It was hard to even make out each other's expressions. Julia seemed even more eager than before. She moved closer, her touch bold but still uncertain, sending waves of tension through me. Everything felt new and overwhelming, the intensity of it pressing in from all sides. I drew her closer until her back met the tree, closing the space between us until it vanished completely, our breaths gradually falling into the