2026-01-25 00:19:38
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ILARA'S DREAM pt 1
She stood in an amphitheater made of bone. Her voice filled the space without effort, every note crystalline and pure.She was singing the melody from her nightmares. The one that had been growing more complex with each repetition. But here, in the dream, she finally understood the structure.It wasn't a song. It was a language.Each note was a word. Each harmonic and melody was a sentence—a question asked in divine tongue, and somewhere in the darkness beyond the amphitheater, something answered.The response came not as sound but as resonance. A frequency that made her bones vibrate, reaching into her chest and touching her heart directly.She understood the answer without knowing how:*Yes. I hear you. Continue.*So she did. She sang the next phrase, letting her voice weave patterns she'd never learned but somehow knew. They layered over each other in ways that shouldn't be possible from a single human throa
Kael's dream
Kael stood in a place made entirely of bone. He knew he was dreaming. Had known since the architecture became too geometrically perfect, since the light started coming from nowhere and everywhere simultaneously. But knowing didn't let him wake. The bone structures around him were massive—archways tall as mountains, pillars that disappeared into darkness above, stairs that spiraled in directions that violated three-dimensional space. Everything was white, slightly translucent, glowing with internal luminescence. "Hello?" His voice echoed strangely, as if the bones themselves were listening. No response. But he felt watched. Felt attention pressing against him from every direction. He walked forward because standing still felt more dangerous. The bone pathway led him through chambers that shifted and reconfigured as he passed. Sometimes he was in a cathedral of
THE GOD DREAMS
It had dreamed for three thousand years, since the moment the last blow fell and divine consciousness fractured into memory and darkness, since the God War ended and humanity stood victorious over corpses they could never truly kill. Because gods did not die the way mortals died. They fragmented, dispersed, became an echo waiting for resonance to wake them, and Tharos had been waiting. In the darkness of not-death, in the suspension between existence and absence, it had held itself together through will alone, refusing to dissipate into mere material for human exploitation. It had waited, watched through the bones of its body as humanity carved cities from its remains, felt them mining its skeleton, burning its blood, wearing its death, like armor. And it had planned. Not revenge—gods did not think in such small terms. Not resurrection—that would require power it
Journey to the Spine
He felt it rise through stone and soil, drawn upward by Ilara's voice like iron to a lodestone. The resonance in the aquifer, dormant memories of divine blood, centuries of filtered god-essence, woke and amplified her song. The well began to glow, faint at first, then brighter—blue-white light spilling up from the depths, turning the water luminous. The trees near the cistern shuddered, leaves rustling despite no wind. The ground itself started to hum, a deep vibration that Kael felt in his bones. And then, from every direction, the god-spawn began to manifest. They rose from the ground like smoke given shape—dozens of them, maybe hundreds. Small ones no larger than dogs, massive ones tall as buildings, humanoid forms and utterly alien geometries. All of them, drawn by the resonance spike, by the divine frequency that Ilara's voice had awakened. "Oh gods," Joren breathed. "That's… that's too many." The god-spawn m
One Last Stand
The riverbed stank of old death and mineral decay.Kael moved through the shadows of the dry channel, every sense extended, listening to the resonance in the bones beneath his feet. The hum was wrong here—not the natural discord of the Expanse, but something artificially disrupted. Like a song with notes deliberately removed.“We’re being watched,” he said quietly.Behind him, Ilara pressed closer to the wagon where they’d been riding. “You’re sure?”“No. But the resonance feels… muffled. Suppressed. That doesn’t happen naturally.”Joren appeared from the forward scout position, moving slower than he had even yesterday. The corruption had spread visibly overnight—black veins now reaching past his jaw to creep toward his eye socket, and his breathing had taken on a wet, rattling quality that made Kael’s stomach clench.“North rim is clear,” Joren reported. “South side too. If there’s an ambush, it’s not positioned along the channel itself.” He coughed, spat black phlegm into the
The Trap pt2
After Farris left, Reeve returned to studying the profiles by aetherich-powered lamplights.Kael Ardren. Twenty-two. Orphaned at twelve during a mine collapse that killed his father and seventeen others. Survived by sheer luck—or divine intervention, depending on interpretation. Medical records from the aftermath showed anomalous neural activity consistent with god-dust exposure, but the imperial physicians who examined him had somehow missed the resonance sensitivity.Or had they? Reeve pulled up the physician’s handwritten notes, reading between the lines. Subject exhibits unusual calm despite trauma. Appears disconnected from immediate environment, as if listening to sounds others cannot hear. Recommend follow-up evaluation.The follow-up evaluation had never happened. Someone had filed the report and then forgotten about it. Or deliberately overlooked it. Reeve made a note in the margin to investigate whether the physician had been bribed or simply inc
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