2025-04-27 02:11:24The boy's fingers were colder than winter bedrock.
Catriona tried to pull away, but his grip tightened like iron shackles. Behind them, Mandalee's screams cut off abruptly with a wet crunch. The smell of copper flooded the cavern. "Don't look back, mother," the boy chirped, dragging her toward the yawning tower door. "Uncle gets cranky when people stare." Something massive shifted in the darkness behind them. The cave walls trembled, shedding chunks of glowing fungus that died before they hit the ground. The tower interior smelled of burnt sugar and rotting parchment. The boy's bare feet left bloody prints on the crystalline floor that faded after three steps, as if the tower itself was drinking them in. "See what I made?" He pointed upward with his free hand. Catriona's breath caught. The ceiling wasn't stone—it was a vast web of silver threads, each strand holding a pulsing light. Some were bright as stars, others guttering like dying candles. As she watched, one winked out entirely, the thread dissolving into ash. "The last Wardens," the boy explained, swinging their clasped hands like this was some pleasant stroll. "Uncle likes the taste of brave ones best." A choked sob escaped Catriona's throat. One of the captured lights flickered familiar blue—the exact hue of Mandalee's dagger glow. The boy followed her gaze and giggled. "She kicked at first too!" They reached a spiral staircase that corkscrewed upward at impossible angles. Each step was carved with names—hundreds, thousands of them, some so old the letters had worn smooth. "Your turn soon," the boy said cheerfully, pointing at an empty space on the bottom step. "Right between 'Elara' and 'Daelen.'" His fingernail scratched against the crystal as he spelled it out: "C-A-T—" A thunderous crash shook the tower. The silver web trembled, threads snapping as something enormous slammed against the outer walls. The boy's head whipped around with that unnatural fluidity, his smile vanishing. "Naughty uncle," he hissed. "Not your turn yet." The tower doors exploded inward. Daelen stood framed in the wreckage, his sword blazing blue fire. His armor was gone, his bare chest crisscrossed with glowing scars that mirrored Elara's. But his eyes— Catriona recoiled. His eyes were pure black, the same void-dark as the Devourer's touch. The boy sighed. "Father always ruins playtime." Daelen's voice came out wrong—three voices layered together, two screaming while the third spoke: "You promised. Her light wasn't part of the bargain." The boy pouted. "But I'm hungry!" He held up the still-beating heart. "You didn't even finish your last present!" Catriona's staff suddenly flared to life in her free hand. The boy shrieked as green light erupted between them, breaking his grip. She stumbled back, crashing into the silver web. A thousand captured lights pulsed in unison. The nearest thread brushed her cheek—and Elara's voice whispered directly into her mind: *The staff is the key. Break the circle under—* The boy lunged. Catriona rolled sideways, his nails raking her shoulder where she'd been kneeling. Her hand landed on the carved step bearing Daelen's name. The stone was warm. And wet. She looked up just as Daelen brought his flaming sword down on the boy's outstretched arm. The scream that followed wasn't human. Wasn't even mortal. It vibrated in Catriona's teeth, in her bones, in the chambers of her still-beating heart. The severed arm hit the floor and kept moving, fingers scrambling like a spider toward Catriona. The boy howled, his mouth stretching impossibly wide as black smoke poured from the wound. Daelen grabbed Catriona's wrist—his touch burned like dry ice—and yanked her toward the broken doorway. "Run!" the voices commanded. "Before he reforms!" Behind them, the tower began to fold in on itself, crystal walls bending like paper in a furnace. The boy's wails shifted back to childish sobs: "Mother! Don't leave me again! MOTHER!" Then the silver web ignited, and the world turned white.
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GATHERING STORM CHAPTER 13
White fire burned behind Catriona's eyes. She stumbled after Daelen, her boots slipping on the tower's liquefying floors. The explosion had shattered her hearing—the world came in muffled bursts, like listening through wool. Daelen's grip on her wrist was fire and frost combined. His black eyes leaked tendrils of smoke that curled away like living things. When he spoke, three voices wrestled in his throat: "Run—don't look—keep moving—" The cavern outside was collapsing. Great chunks of ceiling plummeted around them, shattering into clouds of crystalline dust that stung Catriona's lungs. Through the haze, she glimpsed the remains of the silver web—threads snapping one by one as the freed lights winked out of existence. Something moved in the dust. A child's silhouette, missing an arm, its head lolling at an impossible angle. "Mother..." The voice came from everywhere at once, vibrating in Catriona's molars. "You forgot your gift..." The beating heart came flying out of
GATHERING STORM CHAPTER 14
The water burned like frozen fire. Catriona thrashed toward the torch-lit outcropping, her waterlogged robes dragging her down. The current tugged at her legs with unnatural persistence—not like flowing water, but like grasping hands. Her fingers found purchase on the slick stone. As she hauled herself up, the torchlight revealed the truth of the prison: The walls weren't stone. They were fused bones. Thousands of skeletons packed together so tightly their outlines blurred into a single ossified mass. Each cell door was a ribcage pried open, the bars made from interlocking spinal columns. The air smelled of wet limestone and spoiled meat. Something splashed behind her. Catriona spun, staff raised—only to freeze at the sight of Daelen dragging himself onto the rocks. His sword's blue flame had reduced to a guttering spark, revealing the true extent of his corruption: Black veins spiderwebbed across his chest, pulsing in time with the distant, fading screams from above. Hi
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The screaming wouldn't stop. Catriona pressed her hands against her ears, but the sound wasn't coming from outside. It vibrated inside her skull, rattling her teeth and bones. The prison walls shuddered, raining down black dust that stung her eyes. The water around the platform churned violently. Something huge moved beneath the surface, making the stones tremble under Catriona's feet. Elara's chains clanked as she struggled. **"TOO LATE,"** her voice boomed. **"HE'S WOKEN UP."** Daelen's sword lay cold and dark on the stones. Catriona grabbed it anyway, the metal freezing her fingers. Before she could think, part of the bone wall crumbled, revealing a narrow tunnel. She ran. The tunnel sloped upward, its walls oozing black liquid that smelled like rotting meat. Catriona gasped for air as she climbed, the darkness pressing in around her. Far above, a faint green glow pulsed like a heartbeat. Her fingers slipped on the wet stone. She fell forward, scraping her knees, but
GATHERING STORM CHAPTER 16
The floating knife trembled in the air, its stained edge glinting in the eerie green light. Catriona's breath caught in her throat as the blade slowly turned to point at her chest. The small skeletal creatures paused their advance, their hollow eye sockets fixed on the hovering weapon. A drop of sweat rolled down Catriona's temple as she stood frozen. The staff in her left hand burned hotter, its carvings pulsing with that same relentless command: **REMEMBER** The knife shot forward. Catriona barely had time to raise Daelen's dead sword as a shield. The blades met with a shriek of metal that sent sparks flying. The impact knocked her backward into the crumbling altar, pain lancing up her spine. The knife circled like a hungry hawk, preparing to strike again. The not-boy clapped its hands together, the sound echoing unnaturally through the chamber. "Oh, she remembers now! She remembers everything!" Its form blurred between child and shadow, its laughter like breaking glass.
GATHERING STORM chapter 17
The world dissolved into screaming whiteness. Catriona's bones vibrated with the force of the explosion, her skin prickling as if a thousand needles pierced her all at once. The knife and staff fused together in her hands, the wood swallowing the blade like a hungry mouth. Green and silver light pulsed through the chamber in nauseating waves. The not-boy's shrieks rose above the chaos, his form stretching and warping as the silver threads wrapped tighter around him. "NO! NOT LIKE THIS!" His voice shifted through dozens of tones—child, woman, monster—before settling into something ancient and terrible. "YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'VE DONE!" The ground heaved. Cracks raced up the walls as the cradles shattered one by one, their tiny skeletal occupants crumbling to dust mid-air. The altar split down the center, revealing a yawning void beneath. Elara staggered forward, her skeletal hands grasping at Catriona's arm. "The threads...they need an anchor!" Her hollow eyes darted to the fu
GATHERING STORM CHAPTER 18
Catriona opened her eyes to darkness. Not the empty dark of night, but the thick, suffocating dark of deep earth. She lay on cold stone, her body aching as if she'd fallen from a great height. The staff—now white as bone—lay beside her, its faint glow showing rough walls pressing close on all sides. She sat up slowly. Her hands shook. The last thing she remembered was the white fire burning through her, the not-boy's voice whispering as he disappeared. Now she was... where? A soft sound made her turn. The silver thread floated in the air behind her, twisting gently like a snake swimming through water. It pulsed with a light that didn't chase away the dark, but made it somehow softer. Less hungry. "Elara?" Catriona reached for it. The thread darted away, then curled back, beckoning. She grabbed the staff and stood, her legs unsteady. The thread led her through narrow tunnels that twisted and turned. The walls here were different—not bone or stone, but something smooth and
GATHERING STORM chapter 19
The world returned in pieces. First came the ache—a deep, throbbing pain that started in Catriona's bones and radiated outward. Then the smells—woodsmoke and damp earth and something sweet like dried herbs. Finally, the light—golden and flickering against her closed eyelids. She opened her eyes to a rough wooden ceiling. The fire crackled nearby in a stone hearth, its warmth reaching across the small hut to where she lay on a straw-stuffed pallet. The white staff rested against the wall, its glow dimmed to a faint pulse like a sleeping heartbeat. And in her arms— The child. Not the monstrous not-boy. Not the screaming shadow. Just a boy, perhaps five years old, with dark hair sticking to his damp forehead and long lashes brushing round cheeks. His chest rose and fell steadily, one small hand clutching Catriona's tunic even in sleep. Catriona's breath caught. She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen something so... peaceful. The silver thread was gone. She felt its
GATHERING STORM CHAPTER 20
Morning light spilled through the hut's single window, painting golden stripes across the dirt floor. Catriona sat by the cold hearth, watching dust motes dance in the sunbeams. The child—her child—still slept curled on the pallet, his chest rising and falling in the steady rhythm she'd once thought impossible for him. Daelen entered quietly, his arms full of firewood. The silver had completely faded from his eyes now, leaving them the familiar storm-gray she remembered from their first meeting. He set the wood down with exaggerated care, glancing at the sleeping form. "Still out?" he whispered. Catriona nodded. Three days since the cycle broke, and the boy had barely stirred except to eat the simple stews Daelen prepared or drink from the water skin she held to his lips. His sleep was deep, dreamless—the first true rest after centuries of hunger. She ran a thumb over the white staff lying across her lap. The carvings had changed again, the runes smoothing into something softe
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CHAPTER 20
Morning light spilled through the hut's single window, painting golden stripes across the dirt floor. Catriona sat by the cold hearth, watching dust motes dance in the sunbeams. The child—her child—still slept curled on the pallet, his chest rising and falling in the steady rhythm she'd once thought impossible for him. Daelen entered quietly, his arms full of firewood. The silver had completely faded from his eyes now, leaving them the familiar storm-gray she remembered from their first meeting. He set the wood down with exaggerated care, glancing at the sleeping form. "Still out?" he whispered. Catriona nodded. Three days since the cycle broke, and the boy had barely stirred except to eat the simple stews Daelen prepared or drink from the water skin she held to his lips. His sleep was deep, dreamless—the first true rest after centuries of hunger. She ran a thumb over the white staff lying across her lap. The carvings had changed again, the runes smoothing into something softe
chapter 19
The world returned in pieces. First came the ache—a deep, throbbing pain that started in Catriona's bones and radiated outward. Then the smells—woodsmoke and damp earth and something sweet like dried herbs. Finally, the light—golden and flickering against her closed eyelids. She opened her eyes to a rough wooden ceiling. The fire crackled nearby in a stone hearth, its warmth reaching across the small hut to where she lay on a straw-stuffed pallet. The white staff rested against the wall, its glow dimmed to a faint pulse like a sleeping heartbeat. And in her arms— The child. Not the monstrous not-boy. Not the screaming shadow. Just a boy, perhaps five years old, with dark hair sticking to his damp forehead and long lashes brushing round cheeks. His chest rose and fell steadily, one small hand clutching Catriona's tunic even in sleep. Catriona's breath caught. She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen something so... peaceful. The silver thread was gone. She felt its
CHAPTER 18
Catriona opened her eyes to darkness. Not the empty dark of night, but the thick, suffocating dark of deep earth. She lay on cold stone, her body aching as if she'd fallen from a great height. The staff—now white as bone—lay beside her, its faint glow showing rough walls pressing close on all sides. She sat up slowly. Her hands shook. The last thing she remembered was the white fire burning through her, the not-boy's voice whispering as he disappeared. Now she was... where? A soft sound made her turn. The silver thread floated in the air behind her, twisting gently like a snake swimming through water. It pulsed with a light that didn't chase away the dark, but made it somehow softer. Less hungry. "Elara?" Catriona reached for it. The thread darted away, then curled back, beckoning. She grabbed the staff and stood, her legs unsteady. The thread led her through narrow tunnels that twisted and turned. The walls here were different—not bone or stone, but something smooth and
chapter 17
The world dissolved into screaming whiteness. Catriona's bones vibrated with the force of the explosion, her skin prickling as if a thousand needles pierced her all at once. The knife and staff fused together in her hands, the wood swallowing the blade like a hungry mouth. Green and silver light pulsed through the chamber in nauseating waves. The not-boy's shrieks rose above the chaos, his form stretching and warping as the silver threads wrapped tighter around him. "NO! NOT LIKE THIS!" His voice shifted through dozens of tones—child, woman, monster—before settling into something ancient and terrible. "YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'VE DONE!" The ground heaved. Cracks raced up the walls as the cradles shattered one by one, their tiny skeletal occupants crumbling to dust mid-air. The altar split down the center, revealing a yawning void beneath. Elara staggered forward, her skeletal hands grasping at Catriona's arm. "The threads...they need an anchor!" Her hollow eyes darted to the fu
CHAPTER 16
The floating knife trembled in the air, its stained edge glinting in the eerie green light. Catriona's breath caught in her throat as the blade slowly turned to point at her chest. The small skeletal creatures paused their advance, their hollow eye sockets fixed on the hovering weapon. A drop of sweat rolled down Catriona's temple as she stood frozen. The staff in her left hand burned hotter, its carvings pulsing with that same relentless command: **REMEMBER** The knife shot forward. Catriona barely had time to raise Daelen's dead sword as a shield. The blades met with a shriek of metal that sent sparks flying. The impact knocked her backward into the crumbling altar, pain lancing up her spine. The knife circled like a hungry hawk, preparing to strike again. The not-boy clapped its hands together, the sound echoing unnaturally through the chamber. "Oh, she remembers now! She remembers everything!" Its form blurred between child and shadow, its laughter like breaking glass.
CHAPTER 15
The screaming wouldn't stop. Catriona pressed her hands against her ears, but the sound wasn't coming from outside. It vibrated inside her skull, rattling her teeth and bones. The prison walls shuddered, raining down black dust that stung her eyes. The water around the platform churned violently. Something huge moved beneath the surface, making the stones tremble under Catriona's feet. Elara's chains clanked as she struggled. **"TOO LATE,"** her voice boomed. **"HE'S WOKEN UP."** Daelen's sword lay cold and dark on the stones. Catriona grabbed it anyway, the metal freezing her fingers. Before she could think, part of the bone wall crumbled, revealing a narrow tunnel. She ran. The tunnel sloped upward, its walls oozing black liquid that smelled like rotting meat. Catriona gasped for air as she climbed, the darkness pressing in around her. Far above, a faint green glow pulsed like a heartbeat. Her fingers slipped on the wet stone. She fell forward, scraping her knees, but
CHAPTER 14
The water burned like frozen fire. Catriona thrashed toward the torch-lit outcropping, her waterlogged robes dragging her down. The current tugged at her legs with unnatural persistence—not like flowing water, but like grasping hands. Her fingers found purchase on the slick stone. As she hauled herself up, the torchlight revealed the truth of the prison: The walls weren't stone. They were fused bones. Thousands of skeletons packed together so tightly their outlines blurred into a single ossified mass. Each cell door was a ribcage pried open, the bars made from interlocking spinal columns. The air smelled of wet limestone and spoiled meat. Something splashed behind her. Catriona spun, staff raised—only to freeze at the sight of Daelen dragging himself onto the rocks. His sword's blue flame had reduced to a guttering spark, revealing the true extent of his corruption: Black veins spiderwebbed across his chest, pulsing in time with the distant, fading screams from above. Hi
CHAPTER 13
White fire burned behind Catriona's eyes. She stumbled after Daelen, her boots slipping on the tower's liquefying floors. The explosion had shattered her hearing—the world came in muffled bursts, like listening through wool. Daelen's grip on her wrist was fire and frost combined. His black eyes leaked tendrils of smoke that curled away like living things. When he spoke, three voices wrestled in his throat: "Run—don't look—keep moving—" The cavern outside was collapsing. Great chunks of ceiling plummeted around them, shattering into clouds of crystalline dust that stung Catriona's lungs. Through the haze, she glimpsed the remains of the silver web—threads snapping one by one as the freed lights winked out of existence. Something moved in the dust. A child's silhouette, missing an arm, its head lolling at an impossible angle. "Mother..." The voice came from everywhere at once, vibrating in Catriona's molars. "You forgot your gift..." The beating heart came flying out of
CHAPTER 12
The boy's fingers were colder than winter bedrock. Catriona tried to pull away, but his grip tightened like iron shackles. Behind them, Mandalee's screams cut off abruptly with a wet crunch. The smell of copper flooded the cavern. "Don't look back, mother," the boy chirped, dragging her toward the yawning tower door. "Uncle gets cranky when people stare." Something massive shifted in the darkness behind them. The cave walls trembled, shedding chunks of glowing fungus that died before they hit the ground. The tower interior smelled of burnt sugar and rotting parchment. The boy's bare feet left bloody prints on the crystalline floor that faded after three steps, as if the tower itself was drinking them in. "See what I made?" He pointed upward with his free hand. Catriona's breath caught. The ceiling wasn't stone—it was a vast web of silver threads, each strand holding a pulsing light. Some were bright as stars, others guttering like dying candles. As she watched, one winke
