A Shattered World (on hold)
- Reads 190
- Votes 11
- Parts 7
MatureOngoing50m
Last published Sun, May 13, 2018
The world shattered centuries ago. The ones who survived fled underground and never returned to the surface. Their Gods betrayed them, the Dark King, Nox, forced them to stay hidden and now the surviving tribes must live with the consequences from the past.
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Ren is the daughter to one of the tribe elders. Reckless and impulsive, her father struggles to tame her. The pressure of having the Dark King discover their tribe becomes an impending issue. Other tribes are being hunted down, and theirs won't last much longer. In a desperate defence, Ren is sent by the elders with a group to find a once cherished weapon made by the gods, Dawn-Blade. Only those worthy may wield it to kill the Dark King.
Finn known as the village's troublemaker. In his home, secrets stay behind closed doors and never surface. After making a mistake that costs him his family, he has nothing else. To redeem himself, the village Elders send him with Ren and a few others to save their village from destruction.
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Cover by a wonderful, amazing artist @amanda-mae
Updates: Every Wednesday and Saturday
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COMPLETED Roselyn is heading for her first-ever interview for one of the world's top enterprises. Being late, she steps into an almost-empty elevator and is attracted to the handsome man in a gray suit that compliments his electric blue eyes. She, of course, doesn't start any conversation between them. They are strangers after all, and she is not tempted to flirt with some random guy despite her interest. However, everything changes when the elevator gets stuck on the 70th floor... - - - 𝑇ℎ𝑢𝑚𝑝. 𝑇ℎ𝑢𝑚𝑝. 𝑇ℎ𝑢𝑚𝑝. As I'm aware of my surroundings now, the banging only adds to my trepidation. My tense jaw muscles tick as I grate my molars. 𝐶𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑘. 𝐶𝑙𝑢𝑛𝑘. That is the sound of metal breaking. I am sure of it. But what's outside? The maintenance crew? The firefighters? My lungs start constricting again. Stop. I have to stop overthinking. It's going to be fine. 𝑀𝑢𝑛𝑐ℎ. 𝑆𝑡𝑜𝑚𝑝. 𝐺𝑟𝑜𝑎𝑛. Light comes through the tiny puncture. First a beam, then a shaft, finally a gap. Fingers situate themselves onto the elevator floor. Blood-red cover the tips. Why will there be red paint on fingers? A long-lost dreadfulness pours into every pore of my body as a grim augury preoccupies my distressed mind. I unconsciously scoot to the back of the elevator, pressing my body close to Mr. Uburg's as I cling onto his robust arm. Hands grip onto the elevator door and use bare strength to rip the metal further apart. Then, a blood-plastered face comes into view. His bloodshot eyes bore into me with hunger. Patches of flesh on his forehead and cheek are torn. His nose is gone, replaced by a seeping wound. His teeth are crimson, a piece of fiber in between the gap of his incisors. What frightens me most is the emotion in his eyes. The craving for flesh and blood. The desire to fulfill his hunger. I do the only reasonable thing. I scream.
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