Novels by Tria

Chapter 10: The Price of ProtectionThe air in the café didn't just grow cold; it solidified. The shadows that had been mere stains on the floor were now rising, undulating like dark, viscous oil, their fingers elongating into jagged spears directed toward Putri’s throat."Get down!" Kirill lunged, his hand slamming into the table and sending his mug spiraling to the floor.Putri didn't argue. She threw herself beneath the heavy wooden table, her breath hitching in a sob. "Kirill, what is that? What is happening?""Stay under there!" Kirill yelled, his voice cracking with the strain. He stood alone in the center of the dark vortex, his heart thudding like a dying motor against his ribs.Loki’s voice didn't mock him this time. It was a low, urgent hiss. Kid, you’re out of time. If you don't anchor this space now, the shadows will tear her apart."I know!" Kirill gasped, clutching his chest. His fingers burned as if he were holding a live electrical wire. He looked at the swirling mass

The hallway felt like a tomb that had suddenly been unlocked, the stale air rushing back in to fill the void where the girl had been standing. Kirill leaned against the lockers, his chest heaving, his fingers brushing the spot where his ID had been only seconds before."She took it," Kirill whispered, his voice sounding thin, like dry parchment. "She just… reached in and pulled the identity right out of my pocket."Putri reached out, grabbing his shoulders and forcing him to look at her. Her eyes were wide, scanning his face for any sign of his usual bravado. "Kirill, stop it. We need to go. We need to get you somewhere safe, not just a room with a lock on it.""Safe?" Kirill let out a hollow, jagged laugh. "There isn't a safe corner in this entire building. She knows, Putri. She knows exactly what I am.""Then we’ll figure it out," she said, her voice dropping into a firm, insistent tone. "But not here. You’re shaking. Look at your hands."Kirill looked down. His fingers were dancing

The hallway felt smaller than it had seconds ago. The fluorescent lights seemed to dim, flickering with a rhythmic, dying pulse that mirrored Kirill’s own erratic heartbeat. Putri was still gripping his sleeve, her knuckles white, her breathing shallow and frantic."Kirill, answer me," she hissed, her voice barely audible over the sudden, ringing silence of the corridor. "Who was that? What did she mean by 'rewrite the script'?"Kirill didn’t look at her. He couldn't. His gaze was locked on the empty corner where the girl had vanished, where the air still seemed to carry that lingering, ozone-sharp scent of a storm that refused to break. "I don’t know. I swear to you, Putri, I’ve never seen her before in my life.""She knew," Putri insisted, her grip tightening until her fingernails dug into his skin. "She knew about the table. She knew about the ceiling. She’s not just some random student, Kirill. She’s... she’s dangerous.""You think I don’t know that?" Kirill snapped, the words jum

The corridor felt like a tunnel that kept stretching the faster Kirill walked. His lungs were burning, each inhalation tasting of ozone and stale, recycled air. Beside him, Putri’s grip on his arm was tight, a silent reminder that he was currently tethered to reality only by her concern."You need to stop walking," Putri said, her voice sharp with worry. "You’re gray, Kirill. You look like you’re going to collapse right here.""I can’t stop," Kirill muttered, his boots dragging slightly on the linoleum. "If I stop, the momentum dies. If the momentum dies, the narrative falls apart.""Forget the narrative for one second! You’re bleeding. You’re literally shaking.""I’m fine," he lied, the words tasting of iron. "The assembly is tomorrow. I have to be ready.""You’re going to be in a hospital bed by tomorrow if you keep this up."Kirill didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Every ounce of his focus was diverted toward keeping his knees locked and his vision from splintering into that violet, jagg

The fluorescent lights of the infirmary ceiling buzzed, a low, rhythmic drone that felt like a drill against Kirill’s skull. His hands, still stained with the lingering ghost of the violet energy that had thrown the table, lay limp on the scratchy hospital sheets."You need to stop," Putri said. Her voice was steady, but her knuckles were white where she gripped the back of the plastic chair. "You’re killing yourself for a bunch of kids who only care because they're scared."Kirill didn't open his eyes. "They aren't just scared, Putri. They’re hungry. And right now, I’m the only meal in town.""That’s a sick way to put it.""It’s an accurate way to put it," Kirill retorted, his voice raspy. "If I don't give them this, they’ll turn on me. They’ll look for someone else to blame for the cracks in the sky, and trust me, they won't find a savior. They’ll find a monster.""You're acting like you don't have a choice," she whispered, leaning over the bed. "Just tell them it was an accident. T

The sterile white light of the infirmary ceiling felt like a physical weight pressing down on Kirill’s eyelids. Every time he tried to focus, the fluorescent hum seemed to sync with the dull, thumping ache in his chest—a constant reminder of the price he had paid for his latest performance.Putri was still sitting there, her expression caught in a fragile balance between awe and absolute terror. She hadn't moved since he had spoken, since he had woven that final, chilling layer of narrative around them."You’re lying, right?" Putri’s voice was thin, trembling at the edges. "You’re just... you’re trying to scare me so I’ll leave you alone. That’s it, isn't it?"Kirill shifted, the IV line tugging at his skin. He looked at her, and the cold sensation in his gut—the one Loki had described as the 'tax'—curled tighter. "Do you honestly think I’d go through this much physical agony just for a bit of privacy, Putri?""I don't know what to think," she whispered, leaning back until her chair c