by
Tales and folklore can be found on any world, reincarnating across the stars.
A constable investigates a murder in a quiet forest town, a murder connected to the disappearance of an heiress. There are no leads, save for two journals planted at the scene days after the investigation has run cold. Within describes a woman spiraling into madness, yet nothing is as it seems.
Imagination alters memory, the last wolf howls at the moon, bringing with it torrid truths. Discover where dreams and reality intermingle within a shivered mind. Just beware a Wolf in Bloody Finery, for she may steal your heart.
Now available on Kindle Vella, an ongoing series of blood, sex, and eldritch horrors. Please enjoy, and leave a review.
Editors:
Cover Artists:
Genres:
Tropes: Conspiracy, Dying World, Mirror Shows True Self
Word Count: 10000 currently, 20000+ expected upon completion
Setting: The Last Forest
Languages Available: English
Tropes: Conspiracy, Dying World, Mirror Shows True Self
Word Count: 10000 currently, 20000+ expected upon completion
Setting: The Last Forest
Languages Available: English
The constable was standing now, his revolver pointing at Geneva. He knew exactly what was hidden behind the curtain because he had seen it before. It explained how the Headmistress knew things, allowing him to conclude.
“You left the books to be found," he was not looking at Geneva when he made this accusation. When he looked back at her, he found something in her eyes. There was a flash of dark violet that made her soft smile all the more imposing.
"Wichtig Verfault paid me handsomely to keep her clear-cutting operation from reaching the rest of the world."
She walked forward, the tap of high-heeled boots steady and controlled.
"I turned the truth that she was responsible for killing the wolves into an unbelievable story."
Lyall could not pull the trigger, his eyes constantly shifting from the encroaching Headmistress and the curtain as it began to open on its own.
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"And when her granddaughter showed signs of carnal madness, she paid me even more to send her home."
Geneva gripped his wrist, pressing the snub-nosed barrel to her chest.
"I fear not death, for I am naught but a character in someone else's tale.”
Lyall felt her heartbeat against the barrel of his revolver.
"I know where my soul is destined, for I have seen it, she has shown me..."
It beat excitedly, not the frantic drumbeat of fear, but the rushing thunder crash of anticipation.
"And it will not be here!"
The violet hidden within her hazel eyes emerged again, matching the unradiant glow of the reptilian gaze smoldering from behind the now-revealed mirror. Suddenly, tentacles of silver-black scale and wine-colored flesh flooded through the mirror. They wrapped around Geneva, intertwining with her fingers, slithering up her legs; sliding down her throat.
The woman writhed, undulated with them in an abhorrent dance of dark sensualities that Lyall dared not fathom. All he could do was watch as she was pulled into the mirror, her struggles not of fear but of want. Inky blackness bled into the constricted sclera, the pinhead pupils becoming purple stars that hungered to devour the universe.
For the first time in a long time, Lyall trembled with fear. This was his tormented thoughts made manifest. Those eyes, her many-toothed smile, the shadows slithering beyond his perception…all have haunted the obscurity of his imagination.
COLLAPSE
