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Edge of Thorns 3 - Pt 11Part 11
No time to waste! I need to get help and get up there!
Nathan jumped to his feet, not even caring about the stares he drew as he hurried towards the stairwell, hoping it was secluded enough that no one would notice when he muttered Michael's name under his breath.
"What happened?" the angel asked, waiting by the door when Nathan reached it. The writer was already panicked to the point that his sudden appearance didn't startle him.
"Gula's here," he said, trying to move past Micah to get to the stairwell. "And she's on her way to visit Wren..." A hand on his shoulder stopped him from going further and he snapped his head back, but the angel calmly touched his forehead.
"Close your eyes."
Nathan didn't ask, just did as told, trusting Micah knew what to do (and having a good idea of what he was doing). He waited until he didn't feel the angel's touch, then opened his eyes, dizzy for only a moment as he reoriented himself to his new location on Wren's floor. He quickl
Edge of Thorns 3 - Pt 10Part 10
This isn't an emergency, so I should just call one of them.
"Maybe I can figure them out." Nathan stood. "I'll be right back. I'm going down to the lobby so I can call Micah, see if he can give me the names."
"Micah?" The teen looked at him skeptically. "You know, it's still kind of weird that he's, you know, on our side now."
Nathan had just reached to door and looked back at him. "What do you mean?"
"Well, he was trying to kill Avery last month, and he shot me this month."
"You tried to beat me to death with a garden hoe."
"You pissed me off. And I was possessed by Wrath."
"Anyway," Nathan prompted before that went any further. "Your point?"
"My point is... well, it just feels weird that he's not, you know, hunting the Sins anymore. He made his point pretty clear that he'd rather kill host and Sin together if he couldn't kill the Sin alone, and given how... complicated separating Sin from host can be..." Wren trailed off, not even realizing he'd br
Poetic PsychosisIn thirty seconds, the next shell would fall. Every night was the same, but every night Lorenzo experienced it as if it were the first time. His throat felt swollen; breathing was hard. He glanced around at the others; young men like him who had been shipped out in the name of honour and freedom. There was no honour in this, no freedom. Only death behind your eyelids, and a fear so gutting, that it carved out your innards and left you a hollow husk. Lorenzo tried to breathe, tried to assure himself that he was still whole, still made of flesh. They had lied when they told him he was ready.
Matteo ran towards him, arms out, rifle swinging uselessly at his side. He shouted for him to run, but Lorenzo remained motionless, unable to move as his friend’s warning was lost in the constant blare of gunfire. None of them were ready.
“The cycle is repeating. It is not safe.” The voice was soft and weak, yet it carried over the gunfire and battle cries without impediment.
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