thanh.nguyenhoang.1403@gmail.com
Stories
168
Chapters
1,512
Words
3.2 M
Comments
0
Reading
11 d, 4 h
-
Nyra The cutlass thrusts toward my ribs. Silas is not aiming to wound. Ten years of surviving the blackened waves of Saint Veyra have stripped the hesitation from my first mate’s sword arm. He lunges with the full weight of a desperate man, his eyes fixed on the space between my lapels. I do not step back. I twist. My left arm sweeps upward, ripping the heavy silver Tide-Lock chain taut. The sudden tension yanks Cael Thorne’s wrist forward. The three feet of metal connecting us acts as a rigid…-
24.8 K • Completed
-
-
Nyra The free-port of Isla Verda smells of roasted sugar, spilled wine, and desperate lies. It is a sanctuary for naval deserters, disgraced nobility, and pirates who have grown too rich to sleep on a wooden deck. Tonight, it is also the only place in the Saint Veyra archipelago where I can acquire the astrolabe dial required to make the Storm Compass function. We move through the vaulted, gold-leafed corridors of the House of Mirrors. The masquerade is in full swing. Courtesans in powdered wigs brush…
-
24.8 K • Completed
-
-
Nyra The astrolabe dial is heavy, slick with Vane’s spilled wine and the freezing rain of the open ocean. I slam the heavy brass disc into the empty circular housing of the Storm Compass. The metal teeth bite together with a satisfying, mechanical snap. Instantly, the dead needle inside the glass dome shudders to life. It does not point north. It swings wildly, spinning in frantic circles before locking dead ahead, pointing directly into the impenetrable wall of black clouds churning on the…
-
24.8 K • Completed
-
-
Nyra The eye of the storm is a cylinder of terrifying, absolute silence. Above the black sails of my brigantine, the sky forms a flawless, towering wall of churning clouds and purple lightning, spinning with apocalyptic violence. But down here, the ocean surface is as smooth and reflective as black glass. The air pressure is heavy enough to crush the breath from my lungs before I even step over the railing. I do not look at the sky. I look at the heavy iron diving bell swinging from the mainmast…
-
24.8 K • Completed
-
-
Nyra The Anchor Song does not sound like music. It sounds like the grinding of tectonic plates, a frequency designed to fracture bone and erase thought. Suspended inside the spherical cage of black glass and jagged coral, the massive green crystal pulses. The water pressure inside the vault doubles in a fraction of a second. The temporary gills on my neck—still raw and hyper-sensitive from the devastating intimacy of our shared breath—seize violently. Oxygen turns to fire in my blood. We are…
-
24.8 K • Completed
-
-
Nyra Ten years of blood. Ten years of waking in the middle of the night, choking on the phantom smell of burning pitch and boiling seawater. I had built an empire of cruelty, ruled my crew with an iron fist, and damned my own soul to the deepest trench, all because I believed I had sold an innocent species to the slaughter. I used you to massacre the humans. Cael’s words hang in the freezing rain, heavier than the iron of the diving bell behind us. I kneel on the slick wooden deck, staring up at the…
-
24.8 K • Completed
-
-
Nyra The green light of the vault forces its way down my throat, tasting of tectonic friction and crushed bone. It does not suffocate me. It hollows me out. The memories of my human life—the salt spray on the deck of my brigantine, the heavy brass weight of the ship's wheel, the terrified faces of the crew I sold my soul to save—begin to fracture. They shatter into white static, replaced by the deafening, eternal frequency of the Anchor Song. I am becoming the engine. I am becoming the mechanism…
-
24.8 K • Completed
-
-
The first breath I stole from a siren came in a black glass bottle no larger than my palm. It had no label. It did not need one. Every captain in Saint Veyra knew what the bottles were for: a mouthful of borrowed weather, a little wind put under cork, enough song to slide a vessel through reefs that had chewed better ships into splinters. The Navy called them navigation privileges. The free ports called them tribute. My crew called them the reason we had not drowned three years ago. I called them blood…
-
24.8 K • Completed
-
-
The darkness beneath the fallen ice is absolute, heavy, and suffocating. Liora lies pinned beneath the crushing weight of the collapsed ceiling, her body curled entirely over Eirwen’s. The air in the microscopic pocket they occupy is freezing, thick with the taste of pulverized stone and ancient frost. Every breath Liora takes is a shallow, agonizing gasp, her ribs screaming against the pressure of the deep-glacial slab resting just inches above her spine. Beneath her, Eirwen is entirely…-
22.8 K • Completed
-
-
The Last Night of the Long Winter The map to the Snow Queen’s heart is drawn on a dead woman’s skin. Liora Ash spreads it across the rebel table while the wind claws at the hide walls of the command tent. The inked route begins at the ruined south gate of Nivara, descends through three abandoned cisterns, and ends in a circle beneath the Ice Palace. Inside that circle, someone has written one word. MINE. “You still have time to burn it,” Captain Sera says. Liora holds a lamp close to the map.…
-
22.8 K • Completed
-
- Previous 1 … 28 29 30 … 152 Next
