DylanSHill

In the sultry depths of Louisiana, Wren, a young mortician, finds herself entangled in a web of mystery and passion that defies the boundaries of reality. Haunted by what she believes to be her own mental illness, Wren's world is forever altered when she encounters a series of enigmatic figures with striking golden eyes—each one seemingly identical yet profoundly different.

As Wren's encounters with these mysterious beings intensify, she is drawn deeper into a realm where dreams bleed into reality and the line between sanity and madness blurs. Seduced by the allure of the golden-eyed figure who haunts her every thought, Wren finds herself succumbing to a love that transcends the confines of time and space.

But as Wren's feelings for this dark and beguiling presence deepen, she discovers the shocking truth behind the enigmatic figure's identity. Caught between desire and dread, Wren must confront the darkness within herself and the secrets hidden in her mind's shadows.

In this spellbinding tale of love, loss, and redemption, Wren must navigate the tangled threads of fate to uncover the truth about the mysterious golden-eyed figure who holds her heart in his hands. Will she find salvation in the arms of her otherworldly lover, or will the revelation of his true nature shatter her fragile illusions forever?

Death's Devotion

I had been summoned. I knew it was inevitable; the Untethered would not tolerate such defiance. Standing in the great hall, I awaited their arrival. It had been a millennium since I last stood in this place. Though the surroundings remained unchanged, there was an unmistakable shift in the air, a sense of foreboding.

"Drexidus, how good of you to join us," The Eye hissed, her voice like the rustle of dead leaves.

Her pale figure emerged from the shadows, hair cascading over her face and matching her ghostly complexion. Her emerald eyes shimmered, stark against her alabaster skin. Following closely behind was The Voice, his tall, well-built frame and coal-colored skin a striking contrast to The Eye's pallor. Together, they were the mother and father of this universe, creators and destroyers in tandem, beings older than the gods of man, often mistaken for such.

"Creators," I acknowledged, bowing deeply as custom dictated.

Chapter 24