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Deku Tree Ocarina Of Time

Void Tree Chronicles

Wes Carter is dying. A black sword pulses with corruption in his chest, his strength fading as blood seeps into the battlefield. He has no regrets—his people escaped, the war was fought, and he killed the man with void-black eyes. But it wasn’t enough. It never was. As darkness claims him, two figures appear—enigmatic, powerful, and knowing. And with cruel certainty, they reveal a truth that shatters everything Wes believed: His future was stolen. Wes remembered that day. The day, as a child, he met the man with void-black eyes. The man who stood before him, bathed in the blood of those Wes cherished. The man who could have killed him but didn’t. Instead, he burned Wes’s soul, severing something deep within him. That was the day everything changed. That was the day he became a Null. He should have been able to claim a Void Crystal, to rise like the others. Instead, he was cut off from that power, forced to forge his own way through Essence alone. And despite that, despite everything, he became peerless, a warrior standing at the edge of the Grand Stage—the universe beyond Earth’s wars. And then, all these years later, that same man returned. Not alone. This time, he led an army—not just soldiers, but Fallen, beings marked by corruption, their eyes the same void-black as his own. They descended upon Wes with overwhelming force, and though he fought, though he killed his greatest enemy, it still wasn’t enough. More questions than answers. Why had his future been stolen? Why had that man, all those years ago, chosen to cripple him instead of killing him? Now, as Wes breathes his last, the two figures offer him something impossible: A second chance. They will sever the future—a phrase Wes doesn’t yet understand—but before he can question it, they shove a black seed, dark as night, into his chest. And then—rebirth. No longer fighting for survival in a dying world, he enters a new era—one where humanity has rebuilt, where Void Crystals, Essence, and Mana-Tech shape civilization, and where the truth of the universe is within reach. Yet, the past is not erased. The man with void-black eyes may be dead, but the forces behind him still move. The answers he seeks are still out there. And this time, he will find them. Monsters. Rival races. Forgotten legends. The enemies lurking beyond the void. This time, Wes Carter will not be denied. His rise is inevitable.
owlwritings44 · 558 Views

Threads of Time and Steel

Threads of Time & Steel A tale about Love, Magic and Revolution By A.B. Sucrose Marina Eldheim is a brilliant inventor, a woman ahead of her time in a pre-steampunk-inspired empire divided by class and fueled by magic. With her wild curls, grease-stained overalls, and sharp mind, she's known as the Cog Queen, revolutionizing the world with her creations. But even her ingenious inventions can't shake the restless dreams of a man she's never met-yet feels she's always known. Silva Fischburn is a disciplined soldier, a man haunted by his past and bound by duty to the empire that once shunned him and his mother. Rising through the ranks despite endless sabotage, Silva's loyalty is tested when whispers of rebellion threaten to tear the empire apart. But what shakes him most is the mysterious connection he feels to Marina, the inventor tasked with outfitting the imperial forces. When shadowy figures from the slums and the nobility conspire to use magic and manipulation to destroy them, Marina and Silva find themselves drawn together by forces neither can control. As old secrets, forbidden love, and the ghosts of a life they've both forgotten begin to resurface, they must fight for their place in a world that seeks to keep them apart. With the empire on the brink of war and their enemies circling closer, Marina and Silva must decide whether to follow the paths laid before them or risk everything to uncover the truth about their past-and their future. A tale of love, ambition, and defiance, 'Threads of Time & Steel' is a thrilling pre-steampunk epic where magic meets invention and destiny collides with free will.
AB_Sucrose · 2.8K Views

Splinters of Time

In the coastal town of **Sarween**, where the waves of the sea collide with the curse of suspended time, a legend unfolds about a man imprisoned in an endless loop of guilt and oblivion. Adham, the writer who turned his heart into a ledger of lies and ghosts, battles the demons of his memory through **stone towers** that rise from the belly of the sea like divine punishment. Here, where events are born from the womb of pain, **Yara** transforms from a lost daughter into a cosmic enigma: a child who vanishes on a crimson night, only to return as mathematical ciphers that pierce the fabric of reality. Her letters are not cries for help, but calls from parallel worlds mocking humanity’s attempts to grasp time. The **twenty towers**, numbered with the blood of victims, are not mere stone—they are open books bleeding with the wounds of a past rewriting itself. Each tower is a mirror reflecting Adham’s fractured selves: a terrified child, a guilty youth, a weary old man. The **scar above the heart** is but a fiery seal reminding him that the truth is a beast fiercer than any fiction. In this world, time is a poisoned loop: the sea spits out corpses bearing identical DNA, the **white shark** devours the dreams of the past, and shattered mirrors forge parallel universes where Yara does not die… but morphs into an idea haunting her creator. This tale is not a narrative, but a morbid dance between creator and creation. Adham, who believed writing would redeem him, discovers he authored his own prison with his hands: every sentence carved a scar, every chapter lit a candle in the darkness of his conscience. This novel is not about lost time, but about a being who builds his cage from falsified memories and battles mirrors reflecting his image as a crownless executioner. Here, in Sarween, the truth is not a victim… but a killer cloaked in martyrdom. Thus unfolds the legend of **Shards of Time**: like Narcissus gazing at his reflection in the river of memory, drinking from it until death. But here, the river is a sea that regurgitates the names of victims every night, and the mirrors do not reflect faces… they devour them.
Muntadher_Khudhur · 538 Views
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