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Nothing Happened Twice

On the morning of his eighteenth birthday a young man receives a letter from someone whose voice once formed the centre of his life. The letter describes an event that appears both precise and impossible. It speaks of a death, of a punishment carried out with deliberate patience, and of a past that refuses to remain where it belongs. Yet what unsettles him most is not the violence described within it, but the strange composure of the voice that addresses him. It writes as though the matter were already concluded, as though something long unfolding had finally reached its quiet end. Certain details resist explanation. Dates seem displaced. Memories shift in tone. The figure who writes to him feels at once intimately familiar and strangely distant, like a presence remembered from a dream whose meaning changes each time it is recalled. What begins as a letter gradually becomes something else: a point of disturbance in memory. Returning to the places and histories that shaped their childhood, he finds that recollection does not move in a straight line. Episodes once believed to be settled begin to reopen. Affections and injuries long buried reveal themselves as part of a pattern that may have been forming without his knowledge. The deeper he follows the thread left behind by the letter, the more uncertain the boundaries of the story become. Was the person who wrote it a witness, an executioner, or merely one of several selves produced by a life that could not be endured in a single voice. Nothing Happened Twice moves through the fragile territory between memory and invention, where the past is less a sequence of events than a structure slowly assembled in retrospect. At its centre lies the suspicion that what appears to be a beginning may already belong to a different moment entirely. Some stories open with a revelation. Others begin with the quiet sense that something has already been finished.
AurelRift · 1k Views

[Romance] Lord Black Dragon Still Hasn't Hatched Today

Jasmine received "shocking" news: she had to marry the Dragon Ghost as his wife. But in exchange, after the marriage, she would inherit the entire estate, subjects, and territory of her husband. Jasmine was overjoyed: "Is there such a sweet deal in this world?" On the wedding day, she dressed up sharply and stepped into the magnificent cathedral, casting an affectionate glance toward her future partner. And then she saw... a Dragon Egg. The majestic Dragon Ghost was nowhere to be seen; there was only an egg lying there all by itself. Inventory of assets: A dilapidated castle, with drafty winds blowing in from all directions. Subjects: Three hundred skin-and-bone slaves who, at first glance, looked like walking skeletons about to collapse from hunger. Territory: A dead land spanning ten thousand square kilometers around the Dragon Valley, so desolate that "dogs eat stones and chickens eat pebbles." Jasmine knew she had fallen for the scam of the century, but unfortunately, the knights who escorted Jasmine here had long since "whipped their horses and vanished," running away a long time ago. An old butler, so aged he could barely walk, tremblingly stepped forward, waiting for the new Lord's instructions: "My Lord..." Jasmine held the "egg-husband" in her arms, and her rational nerves snapped: "I have land and people, could I really let myself starve to death?" Putting words into action, Jasmine rolled up her sleeves and officially embarked on the path of tilling the soil to get rich. Many years later. A strange town suddenly appeared on the mainland, rumored to be obscenely wealthy. From that place flowed exquisite fabrics, pure white porcelain, and sparkling jewelry... Anyone who had ever set foot there could not help but exclaim in amazement, while wandering poets competed to compose poems praising that prosperity until their throats were sore. A certain greedy King became overcome with avarice and brought a massive army, intending to seize the town for his own. The result? They were treated to the sight of a giant dragon descending from the sky to "pay them a visit."
Ngọc_Trần_3827 · 138k Views

Salem's Rebel

"When humans came, died witches fame, the watchers intervened, extinguishing both flames." -: legend from Salem. Sierra, the princess of the witches was cast out of Salem for breaking the most important oath 'coming in contact with a human.' However,that forbidden deed brought about a son, a curse to the witches. Sierra soon finds out that the witches had tried to kill she and her son from fear of the ancient legend, where humans bring doom to their existence. Serving as one man's mistress after escaping Salem, she is killed mysteriously, but her son is saved. Their society, rapidly civilises and Aros the product of a curse from witches, and a human father, continues his life in college, but the past soon starts to hunt him. The loop of that ancient legend where nobody knows why it's continuous after the cycle of a thousand years slowly reveals reasons behind it to Armaros, through the inked tattoos that had appeared on his skin at a young age. The questions start, "Was my father human to begin with? Why do the witches want want me dead? and most importantly, What am I?" Aros digs for answers. Having his friends by his side, they unravel this mystery, where each of them face their own problems and the pull of love comes in. They soon come to realise that creatures from vast realms walk the earth. "Phantom's dice rolls again, The debt must be paid." -: lost legend. *** Susan gulped at the sight, and the teacher finally took notice of her. "Sue?" he called her name in an informal manner but it was the deep whispered tone to it, that had Susan squeeze her legs feeling the wet pool between them. "Susan," Mr. Shane called out, his voice echoing through the dimly lit hallway. When she didn't respond to his first call, he tried again, this time, his voice laced with a hint of authority. Susan's heart raced as she turned to face him, "Oh, Shay…. sorry, I meant Mr. Shane" she stuttered, her cheeks flushing. "I was just getting some water. What about you? What brings you here?" Shane's gaze narrowed at her, "Bold of you to question my presence. Well, I came to inspect, as it had come to our notice, that some of the students usually sneak out of their dormitories past curfew, using the path behind your rooms." Shane stared down at her as he answered. "Oh I see," Susan replied her brown eyes trying to take in their conversation, but her gaze focused on his exposed chest. Shane was someone who had the privilege of finishing college earlier than most, earning him a spot as a lecturer in his early twenties. He knew what he did to Susan when he spoke to her this way, but he just wanted her to know he was the only one who had the power to make her feel that way. "Shay, just for tonight can you let me call you that?" asked Susan to Shane. How could he forget? Susan was one of the boldest ladies he had ever met and he knew just what her touch could do to him. "Yes I'll let you call me that, but first I want to take you somewhere" Shane said to Susan and he took her hand, then whisked her into one of the nearby storage rooms. The sharp outline of Mr. Shane's jaw faced Susan with unperturbed desire, his black hair had a golden tint at the lower strands, and his black eyes were like encapsulated jewels. "Shay? What are you up to?" asked Susan, when the latter turned off the light switch. Though she was dying with anticipation, she decided to stay patient. "Take off your night robe darling," Susan heard Shane whisper seductively in her ear, so she slowly took off her robe. Art by: Dew
Just_trouble · 8.9k Views

Iron Mage

The rain fell heavily that night — thick, relentless, turning the streets into rivers of fractured reflections. Petrus could think of only one thing: he couldn’t miss that delivery. Not again. His visor was fogged, the clock ticking forward, the quiet fear of remaining trapped in a life that refused to move ahead tightening in his chest. Then the world tore open. A metallic flash split the air before his motorcycle — not ordinary light, but something dense, swirling like molten iron spiraling in the dark. The asphalt vanished beneath his wheels. There was no crash. No time to react. And the rain was left behind. When he awoke, he stood within the Tower of Lynthar. Ancient stone. Runes pulsing. A new world. A new name: Petrus Alvoran. One of the Awakened. But unlike the army’s mages, feared for their devastating Fire or the Thunder that rends the skies, his gift was different. Metal. Rare. Poorly understood. Not explosive — structural. Not flashy — absolute. To survive, he would have to learn the laws of a continent divided by wars, prejudice, and ambition. He would have to turn power into wealth. A name into influence. By freeing two half-elven women condemned to slavery and sealing a controversial marital alliance, Petrus does more than defy tradition — he forges bonds that redefine his destiny. Amid diplomacy, battles, and political intrigue, he learns that controlling iron is more than shaping blades. It is shaping empires. In a world where power blazes in flame and thunder, it will be metal — silent and inevitable — that bends the future. And his name will echo as the Iron Mage.
CzarBlack · 4.5k Views