Elysium
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- Parts 1
MatureOngoing6m
Last published Fri, Feb 3, 2023
An epic adventure, the tale of kingdoms vying for political dominance and achieving power through bloodshed, a tribute to the history and shows I loved as a child.
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Forgotten
//He had my hands pinned tightly above my head as I squirmed beneath him. The blade twisting between his fingers. He held it up to my throat. I was afraid but refused to show it. "Hurt me." I said between gritted teeth. He just gave me a sorrowful glance before driving the dagger into my flesh.// This is no story of love and happiness. This is a story of death and destruction. One of a man and woman who met one night and not only changed the lives of themselves, but the lives of a whole world of people. One was fire and one was water. They were perfectly balanced. Until one night when the sun fell just below the tip of the tallest castle, the balance faltered, and all hell broke loose. Fire on fire. This is no memorable story that was told on for generations after. No. This is a story of the forgotten. ------------------------------------------- The prince and princess are forced to marry out of their fathers hatred for one another. Yet, there's a falter to the plan and murder gets involved. Will the two be able to put aside years of pent up hatred, or will love conquer all? #2 in tragiclovestory Socials: @0fficialcrystalwebb on tiktokComplete
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the myth of the nine guardians
mythological,history, high fantasy,legend, adventure,drama,tragic fantasy , philosophical fantasy, musical fantasy, war e rebellion fantasy. ---- Hope you enjoy reading I'll try my best to post
(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?
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