Unspoken Tides Novels & Stories

“Why are you here, Lin? And make it quick. We have more pressing matters than listening to the excuses of a failing empire.” ​“The pressing matters you speak of are the reason I am here,” Lin said, his tone shifting from condescension to a grim, clinical seriousness. “The Abyssal Tide. You call them Singers. We call them the Drowned Silence. They have begun to rise in our coastal provinces as well. Our jade siphons are failing to hold back the rising tides, and the Great Canal is choked with the black ichor of the deep.” ​Winnie stepped forward, her interest piqued. “The East is under attack? I thought your masters of the spectrum could handle anything the physical world threw at them.”

Then she read it slowly. "The tide comes in. Goes out. Comes in again. Always. We stand on the shore. We watch. We wait. We walk into the water when we must. We return when we can. The sea remembers every name. Every touch. Every promise kept and every promise broken. It carries them all. And still it returns. Every morning. Every evening. Without apology. Without explanation. Simply present. Simply endless. I close this book not because the story ends. But because I have told the part that is mine to tell. The rest belongs to the tide. And to you. Whoever you are. Wherever you stand. Whatever shore you face.

I was furious. I immediately called the seller, ready to tear them apart. However, a cold, automated voice answered instead. "The number you have dialed does not exist." A deal like that was never meant to be clean. Black market transactions didn't come with customer service. I swallowed my anger and accepted the loss. I reopened the promotional video on my phone. The merman in the video was soaking in a clear, sparkling pool. His face was perfectly shaped and sharp, and his deep eyes seemed to pull you in. Water ran down his strong abs, catching the light.

the girl hissed, her voice fading into the roar of the wind, "then no one gets the kingdom." The Spire’s self-destruct sequence initiated with a calm, feminine voice that echoed through the falling wreckage: 𝗧-𝗺𝗶𝗻𝘂𝘀 𝟲𝟬 𝘀𝗲𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗱𝘀.

The passage narrows, and honeysuckle crowds both sides, releasing its sweet perfume into the air where it mingles with the sharp scent of salt and rich mud. They paddle slowly, deliberately. The waterway winds ahead, curving left, then right, like a secret kept by the marsh itself. The silent marveling feels comfortable, almost sacred. Water splashes and ripples beneath the kayaks, creating small whirlpools that spin and disappear. Leo watches the patterns, mesmerized by their brief existence.

"Yes. Come on. Today is the perfect day for swimming." “Don't take your servants. Only you and me." "As you wish." "Come back, Adelard! Don't lose your head. Although it will pass. Men are not able to love for a long time." Suzanne said with a wave of her hand. As expected, the weather became even hotter after the rain. But the slow crests of the waves created the illusion of coolness and freshness. They say that the Moon and the Sun are witnesses of everything that happens on earth, but the sea sees no less than these two. The sea, by its nature, stores in itself something that is not on the Moon and the Sun, namely, the echo of the human soul.

he shakes his head, grabbing a few documents from the side and reading through them, paying no attention to me anymore. I stay quiet and the trip takes 20 minutes when we appear in the docks, one I’ve never seen before, and I can guess why I’ve never been here before, my sandals hit the gravel pathway as Leonardo walks ahead of me and I follow behind patiently, the docks are lined with the largest and expensive yachts I’ve ever seen in my life, I walk forward catching up with Leonardo, what are we doing here? I thought we were going to sign the documents. “And you assumed it would be in some office? He stops brows raised

Unseelie magic tided over the stadium with the force of tsunami coming into shore. I flinched bodily, partly from visceral disgust and partly from astonished admiration. The lyrics rolled, just that one lonely voice, flowing into the dark. It was gorgeous—darkly, silkily, deeply gorgeous. And the magic inside of it was scathing, seething, like ripe rot and h*llish heat wrapped in chocolate.

I’m afraid that saying them out loud would break the only connection we have left. ​I guess this is what they call it. This is the quiet, heavy reality of UNSPOKEN LOVE.

I asked to ease the tension. I was nervous wrecked and we were finally alone to consummate the marriage. Before he came to meet me in the special room, he had asked the guidian of the house to make me ready. Finally, there was no way to escape. Perhaps, I shouldn't run anymore. Maybe, this was an opportunity to be open to the right one, to the one that would love me. "The Ki'dens are the supernatural beings of the Ocean." He started, dropping the golden cup on a stool.