Coralo
Stories
1
Chapters
12
Words
20.5 K
Comments
0
Reading
1 h, 42 m
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At first there was only the sound. Not voices, not memory, not even thought—just the rain. It pressed against the world with a weight that seemed almost deliberate, each drop falling heavy, insistent, endless. It filled the silence so completely that for a long while she could not tell if she was hearing it from outside herself or from some echo within her own body. It was everywhere, drumming against glass, spilling down unseen walls, gathering into a single unbroken murmur. ~Shaaaaaa She…-
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I was back to square one. I sigh. "Is something wrong?" Says the jailer. "…No." Says the victim. He said it himself, that he can' t lie to me forever, so, i must paciently wait for the time he tells me the truth, right? Maybe if i have another dream like the last one… But nothing happened. Still, i couldn't let him be after humiliating me. Even after i tormented him for days, he denied the fact that he started the fire, and he just patiently waited for me to come back on my own - but…
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"… sister." "…" "….my dear sister, please reconsider your ways." "…get out." " I might be the oldest, but i feel like i can't get through any of you two. " ' She's at it again. ' " I know it is not my domain to interfere, but you should hear me out even for a moment… " " Are you deaf? Get out. You won the second sister over, now you are after me, arent you? " "…" " And still, you know it is my domain, but still got the gust to interfere with my choices, Nona.…
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The darkness was absolute. Thick, heavy, pressing down on her eyelids. …What time is it. My consciousness stirred, slow, hesitant, as though the very act of waking was an impossible feat. My body felt unfamiliar—too heavy, simultaneously numb and tingling. I did not open my eyes immediately. First, I listened. The silence was absolute, beside the maddnening hiss of the wind that leaked trough the cracked window, carrying the faint scent of cold earth and pine. It made the curtains shiver…
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The villagers were a motley crew. There was Brann, tall and burly, who had spent the earlier part of the day pointing out all the “risks” I might have posed in the forest, like wild animals and poisonous plants. He had a penchant for dramatic gestures and kept pointing a finger at me every time he said “danger.” Then there was Old Hilda—the braid-woman—who was sharp-tongued, wiry, and seemed to know everyone’s business before they did. “Now, you must tell us something,” she said,…
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I was ready to rattle about how this kind of attitude does no good to his bussiness. But then I heard it. Boots scuffing the floor behind me. I turned. Holy— Villagers. At least a dozen. Mostly men, broad-shouldered, gripping hoes, rakes, and wooden bats like they were expecting a bar fight. Faces tight, eyes narrowed, they stared me down like I’d crawled out of the forest dripping blood. ‘Oh, lovely. Perfect. I escaped just to get jumped by peasants. At this rate, I’ll be back in…
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Atlas barely left the house after the book-on-foot incident. Rarely, if ever. Like some giant watchdog perched by the door. Always watching. Always nagging. “Don’t strain yourself.” “Stay warm.” “Don’t go near the windows.” ‘Annoying bastard.’ But I wasn’t about to surrender. No, sir. Not me. I’d already tried stealing the keys when he slept—unsuccessful. He woke up the moment i stepped into his room. Once, I tried tossing things at him until he got annoyed…
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“Finally, it’s not raining anymore!” The words burst out of me in a triumphant cry as I pressed my face against the window. Outside, clouds were scattering like sheep after a wolf’s visit, and strips of pale sunlight were tumbling down across the soaked village rooftops. The sound of dripping was the only reminder of the endless storm that had plagued me for—how many days had it been? Seven? Ten? A century? I wouldn’t be surprised if I’d just slept through several decades. I tossed the…
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I wanted to scream. No, correction—I wanted to scream, throw something heavy at Atlas’s infuriatingly pretty head, and then stomp out of this house just to prove I still had legs. “I want to go out,” I said, trying to sound reasonable. Atlas, lounging in that maddeningly calm way, didn’t even look up from the logs he was tending. His silvery hair caught the firelight, his profile sculpted and serene like he’d stepped out of some fae ballad. And then he opened his mouth. “This…
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The silence after his confession carried the weight of thunder. Husband. The word reverberated in Aisa’s mind. "I can't believe it." Her pulse surged, but she kept her expression steady, forcing herself to meet his strange silver gaze. “If that is true,” she said evenly, though her voice trembled at the edges“There should be proof. Like a couple's rings, for example. You and I aren't wearing any.” Atlas did not flinch. Instead, he lowered his eyes toward the fireplace, where the…
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For a long, stretched moment, she simply stared. The room was wider than she’d expected—so much wider than the narrow cell-like chamber she had left behind—and though shadows filled most of its corners, it still felt strangely vast, almost cavernous. The glow of the small fireplace was the room’s only real source of light, painting everything in flickers of orange and muted gold. And there he was. A man sat on the couch near the fire, a casual sprawl that seemed almost careless. Yet there…
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" You know. " "Hm?" " What happened to that inn ?" He sighs and closes the book he was reading. In front of me, open wide was 'The Guide To All Fruits There Are' . " The inn is fine. " " How so? Can we go and visit? " " We can't " " Why?? " " Someone told the whole village that she s a victim in a kidnapping incident. " Ha? How does he know that. " Just how… " " I have my ways. And i must remember you that I am the one who brings the food from there. I might know a person…
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