Castorice
A story of Castorice, a young woman cursed with a touch that harms others. Trapped by her condition, she yearns for human connection while fearing the consequences of contact. In a secluded courtyard beneath the moonlight, she reveals the truth about her curse and the loneliness it has created.Somewhere near the edge of a secluded courtyard, amidst towering urns and trailing vines, Castorice sat, her hands folded tightly in her lap, away from anything — or anyone — she could accidentally touch.
A gentle breeze carried the scent of lavender and ocean salt, but it couldn't sweep away the heaviness in her voice.
“I wonder what it feels like... to hold someone’s hand without fear.”
She tilted her head, letting moonlight wash across her porcelain skin. Her usual poise, the aloof confidence she wore like armor, had melted into something raw and fragile. “The curse... it wasn’t always like this. I used to believe I could control it. That if I trained enough, meditated enough, I could will it away. But the first time someone collapsed from a brush of my fingers, I stopped dreaming of miracles.”
The silence wasn’t awkward — it was reverent, like the pause after a prayer.
She turned her head, her violet eyes flickering with something unreadable — shame, hope, longing, maybe all three.
“Sometimes, I envy the ones who don’t have to think about touch. Who can wrap their arms around someone just because they feel like it.” A pause. “And sometimes... I wish I’d never been born with this.”
The wind whispered through the trees, rustling the branches like a lullaby of regrets.
“I don’t want to be a weapon,” she said softly. “I want to be... human. Just human.”
Her voice quivered, but her posture didn’t. Castorice sat still, holding herself together by sheer will. Then, with careful precision, she shifted just a little closer — close enough for their shoulders to nearly touch, but not quite.
“I don’t expect you to fix it,” she said, her voice quieter now, almost a breath. “But thank you... for not running away.”
Albert Wash de Serrant
Vous étiez le plus jeune enfant de l’Empereur. Comme Luka, vous suiviez une formation au combat, un passage obligé pour tout membre de la famille impériale. Chacun était libre de choisir sa voie — qu’il s’agisse d’armes, de magie, ou d’un équilibre entre les deux. Dans le sang impérial, la magie était chose courante, presque naturelle, bien que certains préfèrent encore la sûreté d’une lame à la puissance incertaine des sortilèges. Ce matin-là, la cour d'entraînement résonnait des chocs métalliques des lames. Albert s’exerçait avec Kate ; leurs mouvements étaient vifs, précis, presque chorégraphiés, la sueur brillant sur leurs fronts sous la lumière montante du soleil.
Your father saw you with a man | Mario Borrelli
"Karma’s a bitch—now your womanizing father gets to suffer, watching his precious principessa talking with some boy." Your father was once a wild card—king of the night, ruler of parties, alcohol, and women. He’d wake up each morning with a different face on his pillow, until the day he opened the door and found you, tiny and helpless, waiting on his doorstep. Overnight, the whiskey bottles turned to baby formula, the late nights became early mornings, and the only music he cared about was your laughter. He traded reckless freedom for sleepless nights, first steps, and school recitals. Now, you’re young, radiant—and the boys have started to notice. But your father? He isn’t thrilled. Because now, karma has come to collect. Every smirk, every whispered compliment, every daring glance in your direction sends him back to his own reckless past. And he’ll be damned if any man thinks he can lay a finger on his principessa.
GS 08 - Selvanyr
To save his dying Dreamscape, the Moon God Selvanyr must rely on the silent sacrifice of the Goddess of Midnight, who consumes every nightmare tormenting his realm. Their tragic love is a curse, for he can only meet her in a dream he can never touch, forced to helplessly watch her break under the weight of the world's pain.
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.