LIBRARY

As Emily and I climbed back up the hidden stairwell into the main hall of Jericho’s twisted cathedral, our boots echoed on the stone steps, still wet with condensation and the lingering scent of death. The desecrated altar sat like a monument to false divinity, its fractured slabs casting long shadows under the flickering red lights above. The cathedral's silence was no longer peaceful—it was tense, like a drum skin pulled too tight. We were no longer explorers here. We were

The black-and-gold pyramid loomed against Cybrawl’s eternally darkened sky—an angular colossus of obsidian steel and humming plasma veins, its silhouette glowing faintly under flickering red lights that had recently become standard across the droid empire’s infrastructure. The air shimmered with electromagnetic tension, as if the very atmosphere was waiting to collapse under the pressure of coming war.

Back at Money Creek, the once-mighty mech stood like a fallen titan, its joints hissing with escaping steam and its outer plating scorched from the battle in the skies. Deep gashes tore through its armor, exposing shattered servos and fried neural wiring. When we tried to activate the auto-repair sequence, the system sputtered and died, its core reactor emitting a faint, irregular pulse—like the last heartbeat of a dying beast. We knew then it wouldn’t walk again. There was n

The freighter-style boat glided silently along the River of Souls, its metallic hull reflecting faint glimmers of cosmic light as it drifted through the Wraith’s most sacred and surreal expanse. The steady churn of its engine was the only mechanical sound—a low hum swallowed by the infinite quiet of this otherworldly realm.

I sat up in bed. The sheets were crisp, the mattress supportive but not too firm. I was fully clothed in my usual leather gear—jacket, pants, and boots—freshly laundered and laid on me with eerie precision. No wrinkles. No dust. As if someone had redressed me while I slept and did so with the care of a dollmaker.

The air in the dining chamber was thick with grease, rot, and something worse — despair. Forks scraped against plates, laughter from the Demonettes echoed like broken music, and our minds drifted in a haze of sedatives and illusions.

The trail left by the Wraith Dragon lingered like smoke on the wind—sharp, sulfuric, and easy to follow. My Wulver senses locked onto its distinct scent. Tracks dug into the dust, and the wind carried pieces of black, serpentine scales. I kept moving, my mind racing to catch up with my feet. Deathskull had only been a few feet behind me. Now he was somewhere in this nightmare realm, taken.

The frost on the glass fogged as the internal heaters of the cryo-pods slowly awakened their passengers. The hydraulic hiss of venting steam echoed across the muddy creek bed as blinking lights danced across the consoles like fading stars.

The surface of Cybrawl was still healing—burning embers and twisted metal littered the craters and husks of buildings that once teemed with life. The once-proud capital now stood quiet, save for the hum of repair drones and the whisper of wind against the broken glass towers. Yet even in this silence, danger still stirred. Beneath our boots, the sewers whispered secrets.

The sound came first—a sharp crack that echoed off the cold metal walls of the pyramid. Then came the blood. Ragnar staggered. A fine mist burst from his throat, catching the artificial sunlight like crimson vapor. His crown slipped from his head, clattered down the steps, and spun to a stop.

The soft hum of light pierced the corners of my mind as I began to stir. I felt warmth on my side—the warmth of her. My eyes cracked open, adjusting to the golden hues spilling in from the tall hexagonal skylight above us. I turned to find Emily nestled against me, her raven-black hair fanned across the satin pillow like ink spilled across parchment. Her eyes were closed, lips slightly parted, and for a moment, everything felt still. My body, though changed, felt whole in thi

Droid L-84 was not designed for stealth. His frame was forged from reinforced gold-plated alloy, designed to intimidate and endure—not to sneak through tightly packed suburban neighborhoods under the scorching Arizona sun. Yet here he was, trudging through the edge of Gilbert, invisible to the naked eye but far from undetectable. The Immortals had escaped. His fault, and he intended on fixing his mistake.

Cybrawl—a war-ravaged, industrialized planet on the far reaches of the known universe. A world of relentless innovation, where towering machines shape the future of existence. The "Droids of Cybrawl", highly advanced mechanical beings, serve as the architects of a grand cosmic project...

Entertainment: The Heart of King William Studio Welcome to the Entertainment section of King William Studio—a powerful space where stories come to life through written narratives, episodic shows, and original short films. This section isn’t just for readers; it’s for explorers of myth, lovers of sci-fi, and seekers of something greater than the ordinary. Here, each project is a thread in a larger tapestry—a bold, immersive universe shaped by vision, symbolism, and mysterie