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Throne Of Glass Box Set

Corrupted Throne

In a realm shrouded by relentless mist and ancient curses, Hollowveil Village stands as a spectral monument to forgotten horrors. At the Northern Gate, a ghostly monk—his face hidden behind tattered bandages, his form suspended in eerie blue energy—haunts the threshold with a chilling, broken whistling reminiscent of a lullaby gone horribly wrong. When the village’s night is pierced by the brutal massacre of its soldiers—a scene of severed heads, blood-soaked uniforms, and erratic, mind-controlled villagers—the supernatural terror begins to bleed into every corner of this cursed land. Meanwhile, at Bastionspire Fortress, the story shifts to the rigorous training grounds where promising warriors such as Duke, Drex, Jack, Touka, and Samaira push themselves to the brink. Here, raw ambition and the mysterious power of Kendra Energy collide in explosive combat—each punch and parry charged with otherworldly force and the promise of latent potential. Their gritty battles, filled with raw dialogue and hard-fought victories, build up not only their skills but also the mounting tension of an impending mission. As whispers of disappearances and long-forgotten tragedies surface, a devastating assignment is announced: to investigate Hollowveil Village—a place rumored to be cursed ever since a natural disaster claimed hundreds of lives centuries ago. In the midst of this, sinister figures emerge: masked assassins led by the corrupt and calculating Boss Dango, whose oily charm masks a ruthless hunger for profit and power. These operatives, working from the shadows, orchestrate a twisted mining operation deep within cavernous, abandoned passages beneath the village—a dark enterprise that hints at a larger conspiracy and forces the characters into a confrontation with forces beyond mortal control. Haunted by unspeakable rituals, the persistent echo of a monk’s whistle, and the tragic survival of men like Rhett—who claws himself from the grave to warn his comrades—the narrative weaves together elements of high-octane martial prowess, horror, and supernatural mystery. As both the disciplined soldiers and the enslaved villagers find themselves caught in a cycle of death, betrayal, and occult manipulation, every step toward uncovering Hollowveil’s secrets carries the weight of destiny and despair. “BLOOD IN THE FOG: THE WHISTLER OF HOLLOWVEIL” is a relentless journey through a world where courage battles corruption, ancient curses resurface, and the dead never truly rest. Every whispered lullaby hides a scream; every flash of Kendra energy is a spark of hope amid inevitable darkness.
_nikki_69 · 29.2K Views

I can set you just right

The boardroom was a wall of glass and judgment. At exactly 8:59 AM, Arielle pushed through the doors in a sharp navy dress that clung to her like confidence had been stitched into every seam. Her heels echoed across the floor as she approached the long, polished table where half a dozen stone-faced executives sat, murmuring over papers and steaming coffee. Dominic was already seated at the head of the table. He didn't look at her. Not at first. But he felt her enter. Just like gravity feels the moon. She took her spot near the screen, placed the tablet in front of her, and exhaled slowly. "You ready?" Dominic asked quietly, his voice low, unreadable. She turned to him with a sharp smile. "Born ready." He finally met her gaze—and for a second, something flickered behind his eyes. Not approval. Not yet. But something… closer than before. "Gentlemen," Dominic said to the table. "This is Arielle Sinclair. She'll be walking you through the market projections and proposed strategy updates for Q3." One of the older men raised a brow. "Her?" Arielle didn't flinch. "Yes. Me," she said, smiling sweetly. "Try to keep up." There was a pause—half stunned, half amused—and then, silence She launched into her presentation. And she nailed it. Clear. Sharp. Confident. She wasn't just parroting facts; she owned the numbers. Her explanations were quick, her slides precise, and her delivery unapologetically fierce. For the first time, they weren't looking at her legs or her lipstick. They were looking at her mind. And Dominic? He watched every second like a man watching a match ignite in a room full of gas. At one point, their eyes locked—and she saw it. A crack in his armor. Not desire. Not annoyance. But something like… respect. And it made her stomach flip in a way no designer bag ever had. When she concluded with a succinct, "Any questions?" the room was quiet. Then, one of the board members nodded. "Well done, Miss Sinclair. Concise and well-structured." Dominic didn't say a word. But his fingers drummed once against the table. A silent approval. The meeting ended. As the board members filed out, Dominic remained seated, watching her. She turned to him slowly. "Well?" she asked. He stood, approached, and said nothing until he was directly in front of her. "You surprised them." "And you?" His gaze dropped to her lips for a split second before meeting her eyes again. "I don't surprise easily." She stepped closer. "You didn't think I could do it." "I knew you could," he said, voice dark and steady. "I just didn't know if you would." She tilted her head. "So what now?" His eyes raked over her—not with lust, but with something more dangerous. Calculating. Hungry. "Now," he said slowly, "I stop holding back." She inhaled sharply. "What does that mean?" "It means if you're staying in this game, you better be ready to lose sometimes." She licked her lips. "I never lose." He smirked—slow, wolfish. "We'll see." And he walked out first. But this time? She followed with her chin high, her stride proud, and fire crackling in her chest. She hadn't just passed the test. She'd lit the room on fire. The hallway was quiet after the boardroom storm, but Arielle's heels still echoed like a victory march. She was glowing. Not just from the adrenaline of her flawless presentation, but from something else—something hotter, deeper. The way Dominic had looked at her afterward wasn't just professional respect. It was a crack in his walls. And she intended to widen it. She pressed the button for the elevator, and just as the doors slid open, a shadow fell over her shoulder. Dominic. Of course. He stepped in beside her without a word, towering, silent, composed. The doors closed. Silence. Tension. Air that thickened with each passing floor. She stood beside him, not touching, but close enough to feel the heat rolling off his body. Close enough to catch a whiff of his cologne—clean, dark, devasta
Samegurl · 20.6K Views
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