Unspoken Tides Novels & Stories

[The Rising Tide] The sound was not a roar; it was a groan, a deep, tectonic weeping that vibrated through the soles of my feet and into my very marrow. Through the reinforced glass of the Core, the horizon of New Macau was changing. The sea, once a shimmering sapphire girdle around our high-tech paradise, was retreating with an unnatural, predatory speed. It left behind miles of grey, glistening silt and gasping reefs—a bared throat waiting for the knife.

Tidal Turbines. If 001 wanted a network, I would give her a surge. I swam through the dark, my mercury wings acting as rudders, the gold light of my eyes illuminating the skeletons of old ships and the tangled nests of "Void-Cables" that fed the Spires above. I could feel the blue frequency chasing me—a digital scent that traced the signal of the child.

A faint star, beyond the wastes, in the sea cliffs. Lyra’s shard flickered, her voice, my voice, soft but certain. The remnants mentioned it, she said, her eyes distant, like she saw the city’s spires instead of sand. The Tide, they called it, a node not forged but found, where the Veil touches the world’s edge, not chaos but… something else, older, wilder. The shades there aren’t chaos, they’re tides, bound to the trinity, to us. Killian groaned, rubbing his bruised shoulder, his face grim. "Tides, shades, echoes," he muttered, "can’t we just deal with a storm or a bandit crew? I’m done with magical nonsense trying to kill us."

(Grandmaster Level), Treasure of Ancient} {Penalty: Failure of saving the target will inflict a Curse of Undead and Tide of Undead on you and your nations} ".…..Wow, that's kinda over the top….by the way, what is a Tide of Undead?.." [Tide of Undead was a phenomenon of an attack by undead monsters, but instead of coming by a small amount..a Tide comes at least tens thousand of Undeads, their only aim was to kill and destroy…A Tide phenomenon wasn't only applied to Undead but also monsters…this phenomenon occurs every 2 years and each time it lasts for 3 months…some say, this phenomenon was an act of god, try to cleanse the world and prevent over populations…in my opinion, it's mainly due to

"The stuff Aaron's report talked about? The Unspoken?" "It's the residue " Elara said, stepping forward, until her boots touched the edge of the slime trail. She knelt, her fingers hovering above the purple rime. Without her sight, she could not see the molecular structure of the void. She could feel the temperature. The slime was freezing, like a vacuum that pulled the heat out of her skin. "The grid absorbed the shock when the core reversed but the physical mass of the Unspoken did not disappear. It was driven into the iron shoring. It's trying to find a path to the surface." "Can it breathe down here?" Miller asked, his jaw tightening.

strained to get my eyes open because of the Ray of sunlight peeping through the blinds. Holy shit! I cursed and flicked my eyes open looking all over the unfamiliar room I am in. I tried to get up but a strong muscular arms wrapped around my waist and we were completely naked. What the hell am I doing In a stranger's bed?

She tightened the leather strap around her quiver with deliberate precision, trying to mask the tremor in her fingers. “More scouts returned,” she said. “Two villages abandoned. Not destroyed… just empty. As if everyone left suddenly.” Darren exhaled sharply. “The Fear Tide.” Amina nodded. “It’s reaching deeper than expected.” The Fear Tide—an invisible wave of supernatural dread—had been whispered about in ancient scrolls. It was said to precede the awakening of the Shadow-Wrought. But the scrolls had not prepared them for the reality: animals fleeing for miles, wells frozen despite warm weather, shadows lengthening at noon, and people vanishing from their homes without signs of struggle.

Controlled. Something is pushing the system— But not blindly. Not like the others did. “Show me,” Adrian says. “I can’t.” “Then tell me.” I swallow. Because this— This is worse than anything we’ve seen so far. “It’s not an Unwritten,” I say. “What?” “It’s something else.” The Unwritten goes still. Completely still. “Define… other,” it says. I shake my head slightly. “I don’t know yet.” But I can feel it.

THE UNSEEN HUSBAND Sebastian found the journal by accident. It was three days after the confrontation with Helena, and he'd been looking for a book to read to the children before bed. Alessia had mentioned keeping some books in the chest by the window, so he'd opened it without thinking. Inside, beneath a few worn volumes, was a leather-bound journal. He almost closed the chest immediately—it was clearly private, clearly Alessia's—but the page it was open to caught his eye. Not because of nosiness, but because of the handwriting. The same careful script from the letters Helena had intercepted, but this time formed into poetry.

The Tether was unraveling. And something was coming through. Not just Merakar. Something deeper. Older. Forgotten by even the drowned.