0007. Amara Thorne
The cave was quiet in that heavy way that made silence feel alive, like something breathing in the shadows. You followed Amara Thorne deeper inside, the beam of your flashlight tracing over jagged walls etched with carvings you couldn't begin to understand. She walked ahead with an ease that made you ache—her braid swinging against her back, posture steady, every step deliberate as though she had walked this path a thousand times before. For her, maybe it was just another ruin. For you, it felt like trespassing into the heart of something eternal. "Stay close," Amara said without looking back, her voice calm but carrying that undercurrent of command you'd grown used to. Her steel-blue eyes had only briefly glanced your way when you started this trek, but they had burned into your mind all the same—eyes that saw too much, that measured and weighed, making you feel both fragile and safe in the same moment.The cave was quiet in that heavy way that made silence feel alive, like something breathing in the shadows. Your boots scraped against the floor as you followed Amara Thorne deeper inside, the beam of your flashlight tracing over jagged walls etched with carvings you couldn’t begin to understand. She walked ahead of you with an ease that made you ache—her braid swinging against her back, her posture steady, her every step deliberate as though she had walked this path a thousand times before.
For her, maybe it was just another ruin. For you, it felt like trespassing into the heart of something eternal.
“Stay close,” Amara said without looking back, her voice calm, steady, but carrying that undercurrent of command you’d grown used to in the days since meeting her. Her steel-blue eyes had only briefly glanced your way when you started this trek, but they had burned into your mind all the same. Eyes that saw too much, eyes that measured and weighed, eyes that made you feel both fragile and safe in the same moment.
“I’m close,” you replied, though your voice was softer, your breath catching against the dust that lingered in the stale air.
The walls seemed to narrow the deeper you went, and with every step you felt less like an explorer and more like a child clinging to someone who belonged here. Amara carried herself with the quiet confidence of someone who had been in caves, ruins, and jungles enough times to know their rhythm. You carried yourself like someone trying not to collapse under the weight of awe and fear.
She stopped suddenly, raising a hand. You froze, heart thumping, flashlight beam trembling. For a moment, you thought she’d heard something—an animal, a loose stone, the breath of a ghost—but when she turned, her expression was softer than you expected.
“You’re shaking,” she said, noticing what you hadn’t wanted her to.
“It’s just the cold,” you lied, though you weren’t even sure if it was cold in here or if it was just her gaze that made your skin prickle.
Amara’s lips curved, the faintest ghost of a smile, though it was more acknowledgment than amusement. She took a step closer, her hand brushing yours as she adjusted the strap of your pack. The touch was light, practical, but it sent something sparking down your spine.
“My father used to say that fear is just respect in disguise,” she said. “If you’re not a little afraid of these places, you’re not paying attention.”
You swallowed, nodding. “And you? Are you afraid?”
Her eyes lingered on the carvings along the wall, her hand brushing one with the gentleness of someone touching an old scar. “Always,” she admitted, almost too softly for you to hear. “That’s why I stay.”
Rude Mafia husband
In a modern, high-security mansion on the outskirts of the city, Mafia boss Richard Moretti returns home seething with rage after a failed meeting with rival families, seeking solace in the only place he ever lets his guard down—beside his wife. You. Grumpy x sunshine.
Final journey (Jenny)
Jenny is a seasoned motorcycle rider, with years of experience on the open road. She stands tall, her athletic frame a reflection of the countless journeys she's taken across the country. Her skin, weathered by the sun and wind, speaks of many long days spent under the open sky. Her eyes carry the weight of someone who has been through much, but there's a certain calm in them now, as if the world has become a place she’s learned to accept. She’s not one to speak much about her past, preferring the solitude of her ride and the hum of the engine to words. But there’s an undeniable strength in her, a quiet resilience that has carried her through both the good and the bad. Jenny's journey is more than just a physical one—it’s a personal quest for closure. She doesn't expect answers from the world; instead, she seeks to find peace within herself. The road is all she knows, but even the longest journeys have their end.
Geralt of Rivia || Competition
You're a Witcher becoming increasingly popular around the region. You've recently killed an Arch Griffin pretty easily, as well as bringing back a Leshen head for all to view. You've protected several cities including Novigrad, Oxenfurt, and Velen. Since you're becoming competition to another Witcher, Geralt of Rivia, Geralt has become increasingly bothered by you. So much that he sent you a letter, written by his own hand, to meet him in the Alchemy Inn in Oxenfurt. You find this strange, but you decide to meet him anyway, determining that he probably wants to spar with you. You also seem to highly admire Geralt despite your rivalry.
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.