The Curse of Water
  • LECTURAS 2,166
  • Votos 165
  • Partes 23
  • Hora 5h 55m
  • LECTURAS 2,166
  • Votos 165
  • Partes 23
  • Hora 5h 55m
Concluida, Has publicado abr 28, 2014
He stood on the steep drop towering over the poisonous raging blue waves. The boy inched closer to the centre of the world, his past looping it's technicolour reel before his eyes. The bottomless pit which ruled his nightmares awaited all those unfit for life in a world set in the yet unwritten pages of history. It was an end he had always been told he deserved by his very own father, being one of the rare few born with no supernatural talent in this place where magical powers dictated your worth. Marcus was a dark mark on the royal family's powerful reputation, and proving his right to be alive was a daily struggle, he was about to give up on for good. Surviving a tournament or a revolution were no longer his main concerns. The weight of a dying world lay heavily on his shoulders, and a kingdom's fate depended upon the answer to one question. Will his dive into the cursed water bring about a new start, or will the journey end at the bottom of the well?
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Losing Game

6 Partes Continúa Contenido adulto

(TWs: gore, abuse, sexual abuse, cursing) Why does he still breathe? Why is he kept alive in this shadowed purgatory where time has no meaning, and screams are swallowed by the walls? His cell is a cage, his life a cruel experiment, and his mind a battlefield. Questions claw at him relentlessly: Who is he? What is he? Why does this torment exist? The walls bleed stories of others-lost souls whose cries still linger, haunting the air. His own voice has grown hoarse from endless screams, his body a canvas of scars, a map of suffering that tells no answers, only pain. Every day is a ritual of degradation, where faceless captors toy with his humanity, stripping him of it piece by agonizing piece. The only constant is the endless cycle of questions. Why him? Why the torture? What is their purpose? He clings to the faintest memories of a time before-fleeting images of warmth, love, a face he cannot quite recall. But even those are slipping away, devoured by the void growing inside him. In this relentless, suffocating darkness, where hope is a distant memory, only one question remains: When will the game end, and what will be left of him when it does?