Previous Jacques felt a voice in his head. The words were unintelligible, but the intentions were clear. He ground his teeth and gripped his pillow until his long yellow nails poked through the soft fabric. “Hurts, doesn’t it?” he whispered. “Good. Keep telling me what to do and see how much I care.” The demon snarled across the mental barrier. Jacques grinned with gritted teeth. He couldn’t be sure it was weaker, but it was definitely angrier. That gave him more satisfaction than the incredible forms of entertainment humanity had invented during his years of isolation in the wilderness. His emaciated body shivered, but he refused to pull the blankets over himself. Warm clothing went untouched in the closet. A bowl of soup congealed on the floor next to plates of bread and fruit. The old-food smells filled the wizard’s guest bedroom with nauseating complexity. Human noise came through the closed curtains over the bed. Children laughing, workmen cutting wood. Jacques rolled over
In the heart of Whispering Woods, a dark and tranquil forest, a red hooded girl, Evelyn, ventures, seeking solitude from her tumultuous life. Little does she know, the forest holds secrets darker than the night itself. As Evelyn walks deeper, she stumbles upon a hidden glade where a man, Alistair, is in the midst of transforming into a werewolf. Their eyes meet briefly, a connection forming , a mixture of curiosity and trepidation. But Alistair feels a wildness and hunger growing within, so he flees, fearing he might harm her. Overwhelmed by the strangeness of the encounter, Evelyn contemplates turning back, yearning to escape the otherworldly realm she's stumbled upon. However, an unexplainable force tugs at her heart, beckoning her to stay, to unravel the enigma that lies beneath the surface. As the moon ascends, Alistair's dual nature tears at him, and he finally turns into a full werewolf, this is bad news for Evelyn. He finds her again, captures her, and takes her to a secret
The Sacred Descendant. Part 1 by Predaliena, literature
Literature
The Sacred Descendant. Part 1
A lonely woman in a white robe sat in a dark cell, illuminated only by one burning torch. It provided enough light to see her surroundings, but it still was pretty dark. All she realized was being locked in some kind of a dungeon, and her wrists handcuffed together in front, just below her waist. She had no idea how she got here, but none of that mattered anymore. All that bothered her now was the reason. Who brought her here and why? She could hear male and female voices in the distance, but what they spoke didn’t sound like talking. They were chanting. The spooky sound of it sent shivers down her spine. Those people definitely were members of some cult. Despite them being somewhere in the distance, she could still hear the words. She froze and listened. What they chanted sounded like some gibberish, a language that didn’t exist on Earth, and yet she somehow understood every word they said. "Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn." "In his house at R'lyeh dead Cthulhu
Previous Taak smiled at the old woman as he placed the set of hundred-year-old plates in a padded box and secured the lid. “You have excellent taste, ma’am,” he said. “Too many people pass the Izkazian wares. You’d think they believed we were still at war.” First customer of the day and it was off to a good start. The antiques shop was bathed in the soothing scents of old books and brewing tea. The customer gave a bright chuckle. “Yes, some of my friends think my collection is odd,” she said. “I say, if you like it, that’s all that matters. You’re the perfect example, aren’t you dear? So rough looking, but you don’t have a mean bone in your body.” Taak pushed his wheelchair away from his desk and moved to open the door for her. Comments like that stung, but he let them pass. None of these people had ever seen a ghoul up close. It wouldn’t do to get defensive and ruin a good first impression. A round object the size of a coach filled the entrance to Selgewig’s Antiques. Perched
Previous: Khekt trotted between stores and across streets with a giddy spring in her step. A bit of light lingered in the sky- enough that humans still walked outside their dens, but too little for them to travel without the fire they carried in cages. She felt like a mischievous child for daring to go out so early. Her ear twitched in the direction of footsteps. She squirmed beneath bushes which grew in unnatural, perfect rows along the cobblestone path. The male human walked past, oblivious. Khekt marveled at their inability to smell. It seemed almost cruel for a race to be not only blind for half the time but noseless as well. Taak insisted humans made up for it with the incredible detail they saw in daylight and their vicious cleverness. Poor Taak. Thoughts of him had been distracting her lately while she foraged. It was incredible someone so kind was raised by the same predators that killed her father and his mother. She still wasn’t sure what to expect from this