Tainted Souls: Fables&Myths - The Bonded Awakening
@taintedsoul-if
Tiana/Kelse. She/her. Just a Caribbean Queen 👑. 18+ NSFW Content. Rebirth And Transmigration IFs. This space will be where I publish my ongoing work, so feel free to support me if you’d like 💁♀️.
Your bonded is a man (Cadmus), both in current and past life.
Your bonded is not gender-selectable.
Other Romantic Options
Two additional RO options are gender-selectable.
Warning: 18+ Content*
Uncomfortable and triggering discussions and situations that you will encounter
Sexual content
Objectifying and degrading the PC
Sexual assault
Gore and death
Age Restriction
Minors are not welcomed and will be blocked. Please put your age on the top of the bio. This is an erotica; anyone under eighteen isn't welcome.
The story begins with one man’s greed that caused the downfall of billions with a poisonous fog that swept Vathilia that changed humanity forever.
Your had only lived for your esurient addict of a mother who is destructively dependent on you, but then—you died.
By some miracle, you were given a second chance in life. You have transmigrated into a badly written palace-intrigue novel as a brain-dead canon fodder whose only purpose is to be one of the story’s stepping stones. It no longer just became a story; the people are not just fictional characters, the choices you will make will have consequences—this is now your life. The unfavored child whose pitiful life is in ruins by the sister who is beloved by everyone is who you have become.
Everything you thought you knew is just a part of mystery that is shrouded with darkness.
Will you follow the plot or will you stray from it?
Will you take revenge for the poor former host of your new body or will you seek happiness and peace with this new chance?
Be warned, your choices will have it’s consequences.
Features:
Customize your MC: gender, and appearance
Romance with one or two of the four romantic options
Will you complete the task given by the system or will you abandon them?
Change everyone’s view of your own self or will you simply go with the flow?
Regain your past memories by collecting scattered fragments of your soul
Will you take revenge on everyone who have wronged you or will you find your own happiness in this life?
Romantic Options:
male
“I'll tear this world apart just to keep you safe, Mi Sol. Without you there would be no me. I would never cause you pain nor suffering. Whatever your heart desires, I'll give it to you. So please don't leave me on my own ever again..."
He’s just a stranger you’ve never met, but you can’t help but have that sense of bittersweet nostalgia whenever you are with him. His eyes are cold rubies that have you as it’s focused. He is not a cold ruthless man whenever he is with you, for you; he will pull the stars and set seas apart if you so wish for it. He seems to know more about you than you know yourself.
gender-selectable
“No one would dare to go against the Montholon family. I’m the only one that you can belong to, nobody would dare to marry you. Even if you beg my Imperial father for a decree to be the master of your own marriage. There's no escape. You belong to me!”
An arrogant and selfish prince/princess who believes the world is in the palm of their hands, they are the protagonist of story, and your former betrothed. Even years of devotion, but your love alone had not been enough for them to throw you away so easily. Will you take your revenge for their betrayal or will you find yourself once again a victim to their golden-brown eyes?
gender-selectable
”Whenever I see you, my heart accelerates at an alarming rate. This feeling is very foreign to me. But I like it very much.... after losing my parents I never thought I would one day find someone I could lean on in my time of need.... someone I can call home.... this feeling will probably be my weakness but I don't care. Will you always look at me?”
There is always a villain in every story, and here are they. Family framed and massacred by the Montholon family, their feelings go way beyond than hatred and rage. They are your friend, blinded by love you failed to see the true nature of your former betrothed, not listening to their warning of genuine concern for you, they had broken their ties with you. Will you once again reconnect the friendship you once shared or will you become more than what you had?
male
“I've yearned day and night just to hold you in my arms... to feel the warmth of your breath on my skin. Your beating heart pulsating beneath my fingers.... I can't bare the thought of not being close to you...."
A strict instructor of Geldir Academy, no one knows where he comes from but you are what his bright green gaze lies on. Alienated and cold towards everyone, but towards you he's as gentle as a spring breeze. Shrouded in mystery, you never knew him other from his formal position as an educator, yet he calls out your name so intimately.
Links:
Patreon-COG Forum-KO-Fi -Lore- Characters Demo
Dangerous Games — A Throne Beneath The Grave Introduction
➺ Scanned
➺ Surveyed
➺ Examined
➺ Inspected
➺ Searched
➺ Swept their gaze across
➺ Looked over
➺ Studied
➺ Pored over
➺ Scrutinized
...or if they're admiring something:
➵ Beheld
➵ Gazed at
➵ Admired
➵ Marveled at
➵ Took in
➵ Drank in
➵ Appreciated
➵ Feasted their eyes on
➵ Reveled in
➵ Absorbed
...or if they're shocked or horrified:
̗̀➛ Witnessed
̗̀➛ Stared at
̗̀➛ Gawked at
̗̀➛ Recoiled from the sight of
̗̀➛ Bore witness to
̗̀➛ Froze at the sight of
̗̀➛ Locked eyes on
̗̀➛ Gaped at
̗̀➛ Couldn't look away from
̗̀➛ Found themselves staring at
It’s the 17th, which means—yes—the second update of the year is finally here 😆. While going through your comments, I realized one of the lore choices was… not working. At all. So I had to go back and fight with that mess of code for a bit. Hopefully, it’s behaving now.
Because of that, I strongly recommend restarting from scratch. Old saves will probably cause issues, and I don’t want you dealing with broken scenes on top of everything else.
This update is sitting at around 30k words. I know, I know—it might feel small. But there’s a patch update coming in May where I plan to go through everything and clean up a lot of the mess behind the scenes.
For free readers: you’ll get access to this once we finish the ending portion of Chapter 5. And just so you know—that ending is going to be bigger than both current parts of Chapter 5 combined (🤫). I’m circling back to a lot of plot points, and I’m not skimming over anything.
For this week… yeah, I don’t really have much planned. I’m stealing a couple of days for myself, so things will be a bit slower on my end.
Next week, though, I want to get back into it properly—adding a few more choices here and there, tightening things up of course. I’m also thinking about including a scene of when the original host was first ushered back into the imperial city. Not sure yet if I’ll do a cut/uncut version or just pick one and commit.
I do want to get a head start on the NSFW content for the end of Chapter 5. And listen… depending on how I handle multiple ROs, that alone could hit 15k–20k words. So... Bleh...
I’ll also try to answer some of the asks—I know I’ve been quiet on that front. The update for this chapter can be found at the top of this post. And I'll see y'all in a few... Bye!!! And enjoy!!!!
Good news — I finally finished the side story that won the poll! It has a reading time of about 18–20 minutes, so I’d recommend diving in when you’re not up to your neck with work or school.
The old version did have some NSFW content, but since we lost all of that, this rewritten version leans more into angst and tears. Honestly, I think this drabble still has room to grow, so I’ll probably write a second part. Maybe I’ll post it by the end of next month… or later. We’ll see.
I know this was supposed to be about love and togetherness, but come on — I wasn’t fully in control. I kept having to scrap lines that didn’t align with the vision this drabble ended up taking.
The blood moon hung lower than usual, swollen and darkly luminous, its red light washing over the city like a fire alarm blaring inside the tight enclosure of an office building. Floating orbs of stark white light drifted between stalls while laughter spilled into the air, mingling with music filtering from drone speakers and the scent of gamey, acidic sweetness from burning resin.
You squeezed through walls of bodies, shoulders brushing strangers too absorbed in the spectacle to notice you passing. In one hand, you carried a narrow cylinder encasing four skull-shaped bottles of wine, artificial ice clinking inside, the chill biting into your palm. In the other was a wrapped paper bag tied neatly with a strand of red rope.
At the back of your mind, you already knew the gifts were simple—too simple for something this important. But you also knew your lovers had no real interest in anything else, and so you had searched relentlessly for these. Simple though they were, they had cost a fortune and proven nearly impossible to find. You’d submitted the purchase request three weeks ago and were only just receiving them now. That alone showed how scarce they were.
You released a sigh and refocused on your footing. The last thing you needed was to trip again. Gradually, the noise thinned. The glow dimmed enough that you could see your shadow stretching thin and distorted along the walls you passed. You stepped out of the crowded hub and into a quieter stretch of street, where the orbs and drones were fewer and the buildings sat farther apart.
Trees crowded both sides of the path, their branches tangled overhead. Dark smog meandered lazily between the trunks but never quite crossed onto the narrow stone walkway. You didn’t like this area.
The first time you’d come here, you’d felt watched—like something stood just beyond the thickest pockets of fog between those trees. But you couldn’t make a spectacle of it. Most of the world looked like this now, thin glass-like barriers separating civilization from the poisonous haze. Thousands of years had passed, yet humanity had never fully freed itself from the fog that had reshaped it. In some places it thinned to almost nothing; in others it hung heavy and suffocating.
And here, it was just enough to unsettle anyone. Ahead, partially swallowed by shadow, stood a grand house. It appeared dark from the outside, but you knew better. Behind those glass panes, one of your lovers was likely standing with a glass of wine in hand, lost in thoughts he never shared whenever you caught him staring off into nothing.
At the image of your molten-lava–eyed lover, your pace quickened, your heart thudding harder against your ribs as warmth crept from your chest to your cheeks. You tightened your hold on the items you carried, reminded also of your second lover—the quieter one. He preferred to sit lazily by the fire, legs folded beneath him as he flipped through ancient books from an era when one man’s iron fist ruled all four lands. He didn’t share the same taste in wine as the first, but he would sip some now and then if offered—reluctantly, and always while eyeing the other with open suspicion.
You hoped tonight wouldn’t dissolve into another childish standoff, the two of them silently competing over who got to pull you into an embrace first. A soft chuckle left you at the thought, and you shook your head.
The sound of footsteps—or perhaps just distant echoes from the festival—seemed to trail too close behind you, dragging you out of your reverie. You told yourself it was nothing, but the report from earlier that week resurfaced uninvited: someone mauled on their way home from evening studies. The investigation bureau had recovered little more than a severed arm coated in some strange, sticky residue.
No matter how powerful you were rumored to be, you couldn’t ignore the truth—you were still growing into the abilities bestowed upon you by Nothingness. You weren’t foolish enough to test them against something lurking in the dark.
Swallowing hard, you quickened your pace. Your breathing grew shallow, your heartbeat loud enough to drown out the night insects. You darted around a corner, and only when your lungs began to burn did you slow, bending as you tried to catch your breath.
That was when a hand clamped down on your shoulder, and fear locked around your throat. You shouted, the items in your hands flying upward — the bottle and bag suspended before gravity reminded them of its rules. Another pair of hands darted out, catching both with a hurried, “Whoa—there.”
You spun on your heel and stomped down hard on the foot of the owner of the all-too-familiar voice.
“Hey—!” he yelped.
Atticus winced, hopping back with a hiss, clutching his toe with his free hand while still somehow keeping hold of the bag and bottle. He looked more sheepish than threatening — bright green eyes wide, mouth opening and closing as though searching for an explanation and coming up painfully short.
You glared at him, heart still pounding.
“Atticus, for godsakes, haven’t we already addressed the fact that I do not like it when you and Cadmus sneak up on me like this?” you snapped.
He released his foot and rubbed the back of his neck. “I can explain,” he said — in a tone that made it painfully clear he absolutely could not. Or maybe he could. There was something in his eyes, a flicker of hesitation, like a man who didn’t even want to defend himself.
You smacked your forehead and turned away, choosing not to engage. Atticus didn’t protest. He simply fell into step beside you, holding the items carefully.
“These are?” he asked as the two of you started up the steps toward the house.
“Not yours, obviously,” you muttered.
His lips pressed together, suppressing what might’ve been a scowl — but he thought better of it. Instead, he nudged his shoulder gently against yours. “It’s alright,” he said softly. “Whether you got me something or not doesn’t matter. Just being with you on a day like this is enough.”
The look on his face — somewhere between longing and happiness — made something inside you ache.
Your heart tightened as the memory of your recent argument flooded back. In Atticus’s mind, you favored Cadmus. He believed you weren’t fair — that you gave more of yourself to the other. But that wasn’t true.
Maybe you deferred to Cadmus more at times — but only because you knew the demons he was wrestling beneath that composed exterior. He claimed he was fine sharing you, claimed he’d made peace with it, yet there was something darker growing within him. A possessiveness he tried desperately to cage. A part of him that could hurt Atticus if left unchecked.
Atticus, on the other hand, buried himself in books and distracted his loneliness by recreating human dishes in the kitchen, pretending not to notice the distance he sometimes felt.
But the look he gave you just now made it clear — just as Cadmus fought his inner demons, Atticus fought his own. And both battles were because of you. You stopped walking. Atticus halted immediately behind you.
Standing one step above him, you now towered over him by barely an inch. “Did you really think I’d get Cadmus a gift and not get one for you?” you asked, your voice tight — almost wounded.
Atticus’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “No, I—”
“The thought crossed your mind, didn’t it?”
His jaw flexed. The denial sat there, obvious, but it never made it past his lips. Your heart seemed to squeeze inside your chest. You hadn’t meant for it to sting this much.
“Maybe I am neglectful when it comes to our relationship,” you started, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “This is the first time I’ve been with not one but two men at the same time. And maybe this sounds like I’m making excuses — but I’m not.”
You dragged a hand through your hair, breath harsh. “I’m still trying to figure this out, with both of you. And if this relationship is going to work, you can’t just go quiet on me. Either you shut down or Cadmus does, and then I’m left guessing what either of you are thinking.”
Your voice strained, but you pushed through. “You don’t get to sit off to the side and assume I’m favoring one over the other without actually talking to me. I am not doing that. But how am I supposed to fix something no one will say out loud?” The words came out rushed, breathless — uncontrolled — but painfully sincere.
Atticus clutched the items in his hands like a drowning man gripping driftwood, knuckles paling around the skull-shaped bottle and the wrapped parcel. He didn’t argue, didn’t defend himself, didn’t even try. The silence stretched — thick and heavy.
The only sound between you was the scrape of your boots against the cobblestone steps. Realizing you weren’t going to get anything out of him, you turned away and continued up the path. Your thoughts were louder than your steps.
You hated how quiet he got. Hated how it made you feel like the villain in a story you never meant to write. The way everything felt fragile even when it wasn’t supposed to.
Behind you, Atticus followed — close enough that you could hear his breathing — like he was afraid that even the sound of it might upset you further. And that somehow made it worse.
Once you both reached the final step, you tried to plaster a smile onto your face. It came out strained, more constipated than convincing. The moss-green grass squelched underneath your shoes as you shuffled across the lawn toward the towering glass panel doors.
A thin green beam swept over you first, then Atticus. The system hummed, before flashing approval. With a soft hydraulic sigh, the doors slid open. Dim light greeted you.
The sitting room stretched wide, bathed in a muted amber glow. Hanging from the ceiling, a crystal chandelier’s raindrop-shaped orbs caught the firelight, scattering tiny prisms across the polished floor. Beneath it sat an O-shaped coffee table, with a single artificial rose in the center — its petals mid-transition, tonight settling into a deep violet hue.
Fur couches curved around the space, arranged toward the already lit fireplace. Flames crackled, casting umbral forms against bookshelves mounted high along the walls—lined with volumes salvaged from the old world, their spines worn, their pages dog-eared and titles fading. Between them hung paintings that no longer existed anywhere else but here.
You unbuttoned your jacket, shrugging it off. Before the fabric could fall from your fingers, a warm palm brushed against your arm. Atticus took it without a word. He moved past you, his back slightly hunched — as though trying to make himself smaller in a house that always felt too large. The hanger closet slid open, and he slipped inside quietly. For a moment, the only sound was the wardrobe door swinging shut.
Hearing additional footsteps descend the staircase, you looked up just in time to see Cadmus coming down. A towel was slung in one hand, dragging lazily over his damp hair as he wiped at it without much care. Strands clung to his forehead. Water traced a slow path from his temple down the line of his jaw, then slipped lower — beading along the exposed curve of his collarbone before disappearing beneath the loose fabric of his shirt.
His vermilion eyes locked onto you instantly, roaming over your figure in assessment. The corners of your lips twitched. Not now. You weren’t going to let whatever just happened outside poison tonight. Behind you, the hanger closet door clicked shut. You only tilted your head slightly. Emerald orbs met your gaze, giving nothing away.
“I bought you something,” you said offhandedly.
Crossing the room, you took only the cylinder from Atticus’s hands. The skull-marked container felt cool against your palm as you approached Cadmus. “This is for you. I realized your stock was running low, so I ordered a few more.” You extended it toward him.
He didn’t take it. With a small huff, you pressed it insistently against his chest. The impact made him react — his arms came up automatically, wrapping around it before it could fall.
“It’s the flavor you pretend you don’t have a preference for,” you added dryly. “Enjoy.” Then you brushed past him. “As for you, Atticus—”
Your fingers curled around the staircase railing as you began ascending, “I noticed you didn’t have the second volume of The Taran Archives,” you continued. “The collector’s edition. The annotated one you keep rereading excerpts from.” You didn’t look back. “So I got it for you.”
You waved your hand dismissively. “You both can enjoy the rest of the night. I have a terrible headache, and I’d like to lie down for a moment. Wake me when dinner’s ready.” Your hand tightened on the railing before you added, quieter — “And try not to assume things about me while I’m gone.” Then you continued up the stairs.
Of course the headache was a lie. You just needed time—time to think, time to retreat, time to silently lick your wounds.
You knew they both saw through it. They knew you were withdrawing, pulling back into yourself. Maybe they had wanted to stop you. Maybe they had almost reached for you. But you were already halfway up the steps, moving too fast for hesitation to catch you.
All that remained behind was likely confusion from Cadmus and the familiar sadness from Atticus, who would, without fail, find a way to blame himself for saying something he shouldn’t have.
You managed a small, sad smile as you walked down the corridor. You weren’t in any state to comfort yourself—much less him. Because what were you even supposed to say?
🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷
Minutes later, you adjusted the final plate on the table, nudging it until it aligned with the others. The routine grounded you in a way nothing else had that evening.
Even though most food was like poison to Cadmus, a place was always set for him. It had become an unspoken rule in this house—not because he needed it the way you or Atticus did, but because leaving the space empty felt wrong. Excluding him from something as simple as a shared meal felt like drawing a line no one wanted to acknowledge.
On better nights, Atticus would disappear into the lower storage rooms or beyond the estate walls, returning with strange ingredients you didn’t recognize—dried stems that twinkled, thick roots that seeped dark sap when cut, powders that smelled metallic and pungent. He would combine them into a murky liquid that steamed as if resisting containment. You never knew where he sourced them, and he never offered the information. Cadmus always consumed it without hesitation, drinking deeply—almost hungrily—before returning for more.
Tonight, however, the atmosphere had too much tension for such effort. So Atticus had prepared something straightforward and distinctly Vathilian in design— austere, rooted in the harsher culinary traditions of the four lands.
At the center of the table rested a broad obsidian platter layered with char-seared marrow tubers split down their centers, their wan interiors smeared with ash oil and coarse mineral salt harvested from the southern flats. Alongside them lay thin cuts of razorleaf venison, cooked rare enough that deep red bled into a reduction of fermented blackthorn berries—the sauce dark and bitter, laced with aromatic smoke that made your mouth water.
In front of Cadmus sat a large bowl filled with pale broth, silver strands swirling through it—ember-vine extract mixed with dusk spores and something mineral-rich enough to carry an iron tang. It lacked the elaborate preparation Atticus sometimes indulged in.
Atticus took his seat once he saw that you had taken yours. He folded into himself as he always did when something happened between you, his posture composed but guarded as he reached for his cutlery.
Cadmus remained standing a moment longer before finally sitting, his vermilion eyes flicking between the two of you as though considering something he chose not to voice.
“Let’s just eat,” you said, keeping your tone neutral, unwilling to reopen what had already broken apart earlier.
Stretching across the table, you reached for the knife already resting beside the venison and cut a strip from one of the slices. The juices splashed against the cold blade before dripping into the thick sauce on the plate. You placed the piece onto Atticus’s empty plate.
His hand trembled when the meat touched porcelain.
Without acknowledging it, you cut a portion of the ash-brushed tuber as well and set it beside the venison. Then you reached for the sauce jug and poured a generous amount over both, letting the dark reduction spill thickly across the plate. If there was one thing Atticus loved second only to his books, it was gravy—the more, the better. You didn’t give him the space to form a thank you. Instead, you turned your attention to Cadmus. Picking up the ladle, you poured three scoops of the pale broth into his bowl, watching the silver threads dance through the liquid as it settled.
In return, Cadmus leaned forward almost immediately. With a look of deep, almost exaggerated concentration, he repeated your earlier actions—cutting venison, slicing tuber, arranging them neatly onto your plate. Atticus stilled at that, as if he had intended to serve you himself but hadn’t known whether you would accept it. Cadmus finished arranging the food, then retook his seat, picking up his spoon.
The silence that followed wasn’t the kind that felt like an elephant in the room. No. It carried the weight of three people trying, in their own flawed ways, to show care without admitting how badly they needed reassurance. Cadmus finally dipped his spoon into his bowl and scooped up a mouthful eagerly. Atticus stared at his plate a second longer before cutting into the piece of tuber.
You picked up your utensils, your stomach growling in anticipation. You had been waiting—if not eagerly—all week to once again taste Atticus’s cooking. Though you were still tense from everything that had happened earlier, it hadn’t waned your hunger one bit. If anything, it had made you even hungrier. Maybe this was what they called stress eating. Cutting a piece of venison and a portion of the ash-brushed root, you pulled them through the thin layer of sauce on your plate before lifting the fork to your mouth. You chewed slowly at first.
Atticus truly did know his way around a kitchen. Even now—when the world that had once made edible, commonplace meals possible had long since crumbled into something harsher—he still managed to recreate that feeling. The flavors were rich without being overwhelming, the seasoning balanced in a way that didn’t feel improvised. It was like finding home far away from home. As the spices bloomed against your tongue, you found yourself nodding in approval before you even realized you were doing it. Your fork moved again, piling up more food and sauce. You ate with more impatience than elegance, as though proving to yourself that at least this part of the night could remain simple.
Across from you, Atticus kept his gaze lowered. “Thank you… for the books,” he murmured, the words barely rising above the clink of cutlery. He nudged the meat on his plate rather than looking at you, as though unsure where to begin. His voice wasn’t ungrateful—just careful, as if he expected the acknowledgment to cost him something.
Cadmus’s vermilion eyes moved between the two of you, watching the exchange with quiet interest. He said nothing, only lifting another spoonful to his lips while the silence stretched in a way that felt less brittle than before.
You placed your fork down and reached for your napkin, dabbing at your mouth before lifting your glass. Small bubbles raced to the surface and burst in soft succession, the mellow scent of raspberry and olive brine wafting to your nose. You pushed your chair back and stood.
The movement drew both of their attention, though neither tried to stop you.
Crossing the room, you passed through the tall doors where the curtains fluttered restlessly in the night air. Loose red petals—blown in from the climbing vines that traced the balcony railings—brushed against your hair and shoulders as you stepped outside. The city stretched below, a spread of distant lights against the carmine glow of the moon. You raised your glass toward it, as though offering a private toast.
Behind you, a chair scraped against the floor, followed by approaching footfalls. “What is your concept of love, Atticus?” you asked without turning.
The question floated back into the room as you leaned against the balcony railing, your gaze fixed on the open yard beyond the estate gates. The world felt unusually still, even the breeze that had brushed your skin moments ago seemed to stop, as though waiting with you.
When Atticus stepped onto the balcony, he stopped just short of your side. You sensed him there without looking — as always, keeping a respectful distance unless invited closer. “I think…” he began, his voice soft thoughtful rather than defensive, “love is choosing someone repeatedly. Even when it would be easier not to.”
He paused, searching for the rest. “It’s wanting to mend the things that could tear apart the foundation you’ve spent years — or even centuries — building. It’s remembering the small details. Trusting your partner. Accepting their flaws, because those flaws are what make them distinct. Love is… just…” He trailed off.
“Loving someone despite the odds being stacked against you.” There was no embarrassment in his tone—only sincerity.
Cadmus appeared in the doorway but did not step fully onto the balcony. The red moonlight reflected in his vermilion eyes, rendering them unreadable. He rolled the stem of his wine glass between his fingers, the other hand braced against the glass panel.
“Do you wish to add your two cents as well, Cadmus?” you asked, finally turning to face them.
He craned his head slightly, the faintest hint of amusement touching his expression. “What is the concept of love?” he mused. “Isn’t it sacrificing billions for the one you love? Crossing realms to retrieve their scattered soul shards just to make them whole again—”
Before he could finish, Atticus jabbed him in the side. Cadmus cut off mid-sentence and shot him a glare.
There it was again — that fleeting, secretive glance they shared whenever one of them said more than they should in your presence.
Both of their lips curved upward into smiles that looked carefully arranged rather than felt. “Whatever Atticus said,” Cadmus replied tightly, though he jabbed Atticus in return — harder this time.
Atticus flinched at the unexpected retaliation, nearly losing his balance from the force of it before balancing himself against the railing.
“Are you both sure that what you feel for me isn’t just lust… or maybe obsession?” It was your turn to fall silent. The night was already ruined, but that didn’t mean you wanted to tear it open further—didn’t mean you wanted to step into a chasm you might never climb out of, simply because you couldn’t contain your thoughts.
You wouldn’t lie. You did love them, even if it felt too soon to be imagining white fences and futures like the ones you had pictured in your past life.
“Lust? Obsession? Do you have so little faith in me?” Cadmus asked, his voice slicing through the spiral of your self-reproach.
Were you wrong to feel this way? Wrong to think that the love they offered might not belong to you, that perhaps it was meant for someone else—someone long gone, replaced? But fear clenched your chest: fear of losing them, fear of what would follow if everything fell apart.
The light in Atticus’s eyes dimmed, as though something fragile inside him had cracked without warning. In near-perfect unison, both men shook their heads and took a step back, regarding you as if you had committed the most unforgivable betrayal.
“I…” you began, but the words refused to form. How could you tell them the truth? How could you confess that the person they had fallen for no longer fully existed—that they had died months ago, leaving you in their place? Something warm slid across your knuckles. Your grip loosened, and the glass slipped from your hand, shattering against the balcony floor.
You turned away, hurt—hurt because they hid behind careful smiles and silent suffering, each living in their own guarded world. But you were worse. Your foundation was built on concealment. Maybe it wouldn’t be terrible if it ended here. Maybe this was inevitable.
Your hands trembled as you pressed them to your chest. Tears streamed down your face as a sharp ache stabbed at your heart. “A foundation built on lies will eventually crumble,” you whispered, a broken laugh escaping—so hollow it seemed to vibrate through your ribs.
“What is love, anyway?” Your voice quivered but did not stop. “Manipulation? Gaslighting? Cheating? The power of knowing that no matter what you do, your partner will forgive you?” You swallowed hard. “Or is love just a myth? A convenient illusion—using someone as a placeholder because you’re afraid to be alone?”
Your shoulders shook. “Everyone else seems to receive it so freely… but not people like me.” Your voice dropped to a whisper. “Because I’m undeserving of it. Isn’t that right?”
For a short while, nothing was said. You were left staring at the broken pieces of glass scattered across the floor, your reflection staring back at you from every shard. It made you feel like you were trapped in a room full of distorted mirrors, every version of you warped and unfamiliar, and there was no clear way out. The night air felt colder now. Your breathing came out in uneven gasps, your vision blurring despite how hard you tried to steady it. Then steely arms wrapped around your shoulders from behind.
Atticus drew you back against him until your spine rested against the solidness of his chest, his warmth seeping into you like he was trying to hold you together. “Undeserving?” he repeated, the word sounding foreign in his mouth. “Is that really what you think we see when we look at you?”
His face dipped into the crook of your neck. “You think this is convenience? That you’re just filling space?” His breath fanned across your skin.. “I won’t lie — sometimes we argue. Sometimes we don’t see eye to eye. Sometimes I go quiet because I don’t trust myself not to say something I’ll regret. But that doesn’t mean I’m here because I’m afraid to be alone.”
Atticus's voice softened. “If this were convenience, I would have left a long time ago.”
At the same time, Cadmus stepped forward and took your hand, his fingers threading through yours. His jaw was tight, shoulders stiff, but his eyes didn’t leave your face — like you might disappear if he blinked. “You don’t get to decide what our feelings are,” he said calmly. “And you don’t get to reduce them into something shallow just because you’re scared.”
He lifted your hand and pressed a soft kiss to the back of it. Goosebumps spread across your skin, and you shivered. “If this were lust, we wouldn’t still be here after everything. If this were obsession, we’d try to cage you, control you, make sure the only thing you saw was us.”
His grip tightened just slightly. “But we’re standing here, listening to you, letting you question us, that’s not obsession.”
“You said a foundation built on lies will crumble,” Atticus murmured. “Then let’s stop pretending we’re building on lies. What we’re building is trust. Even if it’s messy. Even if we’re still learning.”
Cadmus glanced at him before speaking again. “If this is a mistake — if this is some dream we shouldn’t be in — then I don’t want to wake up. Because a world without you in it isn’t one I care to return to.”
“I’d rather stay here too,” Atticus added quietly. “With you. With us.”
You reached back and gripped Atticus’s wrist, your other hand tightening around Cadmus’s fingers. You didn’t speak. But you didn’t pull away either.
Today, we close out the week of the 9th installment of Tainted Souls.
This week, I haven’t touched the main demo, as I’ve been working on a few side contents for Patreon and preparing for the romantic weekend for couples coming up next week. That said, I do have a solid foundation for what I want to do with the upcoming scenes for Chapter 5, Part 2, which I’ve been quietly prepping for some time now. Those scenes should be fairly smooth to write, especially since I don’t plan to focus on lore in this update—we have another round of monster face-offs ahead.
My plans for this week aren’t too heavy, as I’m still deep in the process of chipping away at more NSFW content, which I plan to queue and release bit by bit. We’ll see how things come together by the end of the month. So far:
Drusilla & Yesenia drabble: ~2.5k words
[REDACTED] & Yesenia: ~2k words
Cadmus & MC: currently at ~4k and still growing
And that’s only three out of eight drabbles so far… so honestly, what are the odds?
With Valentine’s Day less than two weeks away, my subscribers have already chosen the winners—and I’m sure you can all guess who they are. But I’ll say it anyway: Atticus × MC × Cadmus.
For this week, I plan to focus on continuing Instructor Idun’s backstory, alongside opening the classroom scene that centers on the MC’s preparation to face a carnivorous creature. And not just any creature—this one will be tampered with, meaning it’ll be maxed out in every stat. The MC may… or may not die. We’ll see.
I’ve also realized I’m missing some lore regarding the immersion chambers, specifically why it’s mandatory for the MC to wear the latex suit Yesenia provided. I’ll likely tackle that around Friday.
Will I be able to accomplish half of what I’ve planned before launch? Honestly, I have no idea. February is a very short month—but we’re going to make it work. My target word count for this week is 7–10k words. If I go over, perfect. If I fall short, there’s still time to make up for it.
I think that covers everything for this ramble. I hope all is well on everyone’s end. I’ve seen all your amazing asks, and I’ll be answering them in a few days—please bear with me while I tie up a few loose ends and wrap things neatly.
Lastly, I hope you’re all staying warm during this chilly season. The weather doesn’t affect me much, though—I somehow manage to be truly cold in summer and hot during winter and cold-front days.
I'm not good with words(｡•́︿•̀｡) but I offer my condolences, ik losing a loved one is so painful to the point you feel like you're living a nightmare where no matter what you do you can't wake up, but hopefully you will find it in yourself to properly grieve😢. This low-key hit me cuz I just lost my grandfather, but I know you can power through this and open a new chapter of your life.
🫂
Grief reminds me of a shadow. It isn’t visible unless you step into a house filled with memories, or subconsciously call out a person’s name and realize they are no longer here with you. It appears when you plate their food without thinking, forgetting that they have left this world and are never coming back.
Grief doesn’t disappear just because years have passed since someone died. No—it stays with you. Death may be inevitable, but the most painful part is learning how to move forward without them, knowing they will no longer be there to celebrate your achievements.
I won’t lie—it’s been hard, because I’m the type of person who doesn’t talk about things. I bottle them up until my mind and body try to forget them completely. But I do know this: one day, we’ll meet again, and we’ll talk about everything we did after they left.
So please, anon—let it all out. Live a full, meaningful life for your grandfather. That way, when you meet him again, you can brag about all the new, delicious meals you’ve tasted over the years, the new buildings that were erected, and all the other fun, beautiful things you experienced along the way.
Just because they’re no longer a part of this world doesn’t mean they don’t live on in us. I pray only for your happiness and your well-being. Don’t cry for too long—he wouldn’t have wanted that. My condolences, and I’m sorry it took me so long to respond 🫂.
Hello! In the public demo can you tell me how to read about Ragriel info? (The only two not grey out are about step-mom and Drusilla for me)
Hiya 🙋♀️.
I did that deliberately, because Ragriel and Isuara knew each other before he married into the Surname2 household. That’s why I hid Ragriel’s lore details behind an *if statement—accessing it requires viewing Isuara’s backstory first.
Sorry for the late response; I hope I didn’t delay your reading 🥲.
Ah I don’t know if it’s just me but I’m having trouble getting the demo link to work :( the cog forum link leads to a page that says access is restricted because it’s been locked to private 
Is this problem still occurring on your end? I tested all the links and encountered the same error you mentioned when trying to access the paid Patreon demo. Apologies for the delayed response 🙇♀️, and I hope the link is working for you now.
I’m trying to skip to chapter 3 but can’t flirt with T, the option is greyed out. What are the prerequisite to be able to flirt in that scene ? I am on the revenge path
A revenge player? Yeah. T should probably start running 💀.
It’s this option (#You let out a dry laugh. Scraping the torn pieces of napkin into your hand, you blew them toward your Father. "Such a strong tone of refusal... what a pity. I’m far too lazy to bicker with you, Father. [[b]Flirt[/b]]) if you’re playing the game from scratch, and this option (#You mock your father, suggest he's afraid of your potential, and imply you could win back your ex.) if you’re jumping straight from the beginning to Chapter 3.
I know how the first option with Father looks, but trust me—this choice isn’t you flirting with Ragriel, it’s aimed at T. I really do need to make that cheat sheet and stop being so goddamn lazy 😔.
Have a not-so-welcoming conversation with your dear sister, Yesenia.
Get schemed against and unknowingly fall into the hole dug for you—facing the wrath of Eiravelle—or weigh your words carefully and subconsciously avoid the trap.
Learn something new about Nothingness… or don’t.
Meet Jailen again, or bicker with your once ex-betrothed.
[Go against the world order and get stuck with an S-level system mission. Receive your first lore drop on the godly realms—Eiravelle and Nekrosar. Discover the second scheme laid out against you and retaliate… or play the Virgin Mary.]
Paid Link: Tainted Souls Paid Post/Demo
Additional Plans for the Upcoming Month.
Add a second system skill: [Heartbind].
This ability will be tied to a White Lotus Path I plan to create for the MC. This route is for readers who feel the MC’s responses lean too heavily toward anger. A doormat path is not happening—even if that doormat eventually “wins” after years of scheming. Hard pass. In my eyes, it’s far better to protect the life God blessed you with than to seek validation from people who mean you no good.
Rework Caitlyn’s background.
Her current identity feels lackluster and nonsensical to the plot. The body she inhabits needs to have sufficient standing in society—that much is necessary. With Drusilla already having a thing for Yesenia, her wanting to fight the MC over Cadmus feels… meh. So yes—tweaks are coming.
Finally introduce Ada into the world.
Her identity will remain hidden. I won’t yap about it.
As for my free readers, don’t think I’ve forgotten about y’all. Your update will consist of the continuation of Chapter 4, which is roughly around 50k words. There’s no formal “what to expect” for this one, but the continuation will mostly revolve around the test matches and watching the consequences of the choice you made in Chapter 3 take effect. It will also feature deeper lore details about three of the lead characters.
Free Demo Link: Tainted Souls Free Demo
Moving on, as for the V-Day special—I’ve only received 13 votes so far, with the poly romance currently in the lead. Voting will close on January 30th, so if you haven’t voted yet, please do if you’d like to see someone other than Caddy. If there are any inconsistencies with the code or any run-on sentences, please send them my way. 💁♀️
As always, new dates for Chapter 5 PT2 will go live in the month of February. I hope you all enjoy yet another amazing chapter of this demo, and that your week brings you love, laughter, joy, and abundance.
It's here! It might come with one or more bugs, but I'm currently too sleepy to check. I've coded around 30k words in a timespan of about 14 hours today.
Keep in mind: This is the old demo. There might be very small text changes, but the new demo (which will be the unchanged prologue and chapter 1 with an additional 2.4kish words) will only be accessible to paying Patreon members... tomorrow or the day after? I am in coding hell.
This book is for mature audience only (18+). It's currently still in early development and everything released is subject to possible change. The book will contain mature themes like abuse, child birth, sexual content (mostly optional), death of people and animals (the latter for food and sacrificial purposes), diseases, suicidal ideations, homophobia, transphobia, body dysmorphia, possible self mutilation, swearing, attempted non consensual intercourse (this is not a definitive list of triggers!).
This is a work of fiction. Wherever possible and plausible, I incorporate information that is available about how Germanic tribes lived etc.
However... especially about Germanic tribes during the timeframe I chose is only very little information available—and what information is available is mostly interpreted from what we know about grave sites, or it's (most likely) exaggerated information written from an "enemy" point of view—the Romans.
I might somewhat substitute with things we know about the vikings, which technically also were Germanic tribes, but they lived quite some hundred years after the timespan I aim for the main story of this IF to be set in (which is 16 CE).
Things we know for certain about Germanic people are extremely sparse. Many of the things the internet states as "facts" about Germanic people—even about Vikings—are estimates and interpretation of comparatively few findings.
Other choices and possible changes of actual facts/information about the historical times and people are made for flavour and for the readers' comfort.
I will state it once more for clarification:
I am not a historian. I am merely one person researching and writing this as a hobby. It will not be 100% historically accurate. It is still a work of fiction and I take creative liberties.
Movies with massive budgets and several research assistants have historical inaccuracies in them. Please let me also have some.
Life has never been kind to you—because in a Germanic tribe, life is neither fair, nor guaranteed.
It wasn't kind to your mother when she died in childbirth, giving you a sibling in her stead.
It isn't kind to your father, whose life seems to be just as doomed as the marriage he arranged for you.
And now, it isn't kind to you as you're shepherded into battle against the Romans simply for the right to live freely.
When a group of traveling merchants arrive in your settlement during a three-year long campaign led by the Roman commander Germanicus, the adoptive son of Emperor Tiberius, it seems life is turning kind. But is it wishful thinking? Or are there omens you are attempting to turn a blind eye to?
As the newly anointed chieftain of your tribe, you must lead you people well, protect them, and continue the Germanic legacy. How will you persevere in this unkind life, chieftain?
Customize your own Suevi. Choose:
Gender,
Looks,
The God you mainly pray to,
Your occupation - depending on the tribe you hail from,
and more.
Choose one of... seven love interests—and one poly option.
Ing — Ingunn(f) or Ingram(m), the Traitor...?
Aquila — always named Aquila(f/m/nb-intersex), the Entertainer.
D — Dewognata(f) or Dagomaros(m), the Blacksmith.
Nefer — Nefertari(f) or Neferkare(m), the Merchant. — Xen x MC x Nefer poly option possible
Xen — Xeno(f) or Xenon(m), the Interpreter. —Xen x MC x Nefer poly option possible
???, the Secret.
!!!, the Other.
Find love, have a good time with no strings attached (flings!) or just do your own thing (and somehow survive... or perish).
The old demo can be found here. Be aware that the game is currently undergoing a rework, it has changed a lot.
This post was long overdue, but due to certain personal circumstances, I wasn’t able to share it sooner. Today, with a little time on my hands, I can finally sit down and gather my thoughts.
In 2025, I accomplished a lot, and I truly owe it all to you guys. When I say that, I mean it wholeheartedly. For a while, I had abandoned Tainted Souls—nearly two years, in fact—until I revisited my Tumblr and discovered that Dashingdon was no longer working.
Rereading my work sent me down a path of rewriting and relaunching, and on March 24th, an update for Tainted Souls was published. I didn’t know what kind of response I would receive back then, but I mustered the courage to put my best foot forward. Shortly after, I finally posted a long-awaited NSFW ask that had been sitting in my Tumblr ask box, featuring Cadmus, the MC, and Atticus. That was soon followed by another update on May 11th, 2025.
I won’t list out every date and time, as that would be unnecessary, but looking back, it’s clear that I managed to update this small demo over eight times in less than a year. What once stood at just 24k words grew into 236k words.
Compared to others, it may not seem like many words, but for me, it was a huge feat. I spent days and nights carefully threading scenes together, stitching needles full of explosive plot points. It wasn’t easy, but we made it work.
So thank you all—for reading, for sending in your wonderful messages, and for simply existing on my page. This year, I hope to accomplish at least twice as much as I did last year. I also aim to be more consistent with drabbles and to create more content for my paid readers, because you all deserve it—free and paid alike.
Going through a rough patch and being unable to update honestly surprised me, especially seeing how you all stayed, never moving an inch, even in my absence. I don’t know how to repay that kind of loyalty, but I do know this: I’ll keep writing, keep creating, and keep showing up.
So here’s a heartfelt bow to each of you. Thank you for being here.
Also, before I go, let me tell you all that the first update for this year is finished—though I’m still debating whether to add another scene. I’m tempted to end the chapter on a cliffhanger, so we’ll see how that goes. I still have less than a week left, with the weekend set aside for error-checking.
This update is… interesting, to say the least. I can’t wait to share it with you all. I hope your week is treating you well. Once again, I’m down with an illness, but this time around it won’t stop me from updating this demo—lol.
See you all in a few days—maybe sooner if I’m feeling generous. Either way, I can’t wait to share what’s coming next.
My apologies for the late response — I’m just now getting online. I was tagged by the amazing @bellamy-ifs, with my word being Star. The letter R took me a minute to find, but I eventually found it in my unedited files… so here we go.
Game rules: Participants must share one sentence/excerpt from their IFs that starts with each letter of the word you're given.
Snippets
S
Suddenly, you could no longer feel your body. Your legs went heavy—like bricks chained to your bones. A cold numbness crawled up your limbs, swallowing sensation as easily as the fog devours the lands in Vathilia. “What’s happening? Nothingness—what is happening?” you shouted into the void.
T
The Gorewing hovers over you, wings flapping, eyes locked onto your own. Its fangs drip with remnants of your flesh, each drop sizzling when it hits the scorched earth beside you. A panic climbs up your throat—twisting, wringing you from the inside out—until it feels like you’re suffocating.
A
A horrifying tingle spreads from your extremities inward. Your feet begin to shrink, toenails thickening and arching. Skin puckers, and dark strands of hair sprout along your calves and forearms—thin at first, then multiplying, bristling like wild overgrowth. Your whole body shivers, caught between cold, terror, and the anomalous bloom racing through every nerve.
R
[Risk is classified as: Absolute. Unacceptable. Therefore, upon detection of divine authority, I enter Observation Mode and restrict all active defenses to prevent total erasure.]
■■■■■■■
We’re focusing on Christmas/wintery words, right? So I think my word will be Mistletoe — if I’m incorrect, please feel free to correct me. As for tagging, I’ll be hardening my face and tagging… @parasitic-if and @i-the-villain-if.
Hiya, it’s been a while. The start of this month and the end of last week have both been incredibly busy for me. The other day, while working on the punishment scene for one of the branch paths, I felt my love for Tainted Souls spark again. I won’t lie—these past few weeks, every time I tried to write, all I felt was a deep, wrenching sadness. But last week, I found myself falling in love with writing again… almost like a woman sneaking around in a secret relationship.
Anyway, today is the 9th of December, and we only have three Mondays left in the month. An update next week is impossible—that week is my mother’s memorial service. Out here, burials usually take one to two months because, unfortunately, losing someone has become a money-making thing. That means we’ll only have two Mondays left for an update, so the next Tainted Souls release will likely fall on either the 22nd or the 28th of December. I don’t want to intrude on anyone’s holiday season since I know it’s a busy time for many of you.
January won’t be as hectic as November and December—at least not emotionally—and I’ll have a full schedule, but consistency with Tainted Souls is something I’m committed to. My goal is to finish Book One of this interactive IF by late 2026 or early 2027, and hopefully see if Hosted Games will accept my scribbles. On to better things…
One thing I dislike about my writing is that I struggle to leave things to the imagination—which is exactly how the punishment results grew into what they are now. The good news is the punishment section is finished 🙂↔️! I think I only have one more part left to add.
For the rest of this week, I’m focusing on completing the immersion chamber scene, then diving straight into redrafting the classroom scene—hopefully followed by one-on-one scenes with each RO. I also want to finish another NSFW alphabet for another RO, and I’ll be putting up a poll on Patreon to decide who gets it next.
As for the Trysten/Trista drabble… it ended up being deeper and more reflective than I intended. I’ve seen comments on different forums, and I completely agree: when someone transmigrates, authors rarely explore how jarring it is to leave behind an entire world you knew for one you understand nothing about. My fingers are itching to tweak Chapter One to add more of that perspective, but that’ll have to wait until I finish the current public and private updates. In the meantime, a lot of those thoughts will be included in the drabble I’m writing now.
I’m also thinking of doing something small for all the ROs—either posting them randomly or building a backlog I can queue up over time, just to lighten my load.
My week is pretty straightforward, and next week I’ll be doing another update as well. Starting today, I’ll also begin noting the amount of words I add each week.
9th of December — Chapter 5 current word count: 10k
As always, please stay safe. It’s the cold season, so remember to wear a few extra layers. Thank you for staying with me through these unpredictable and difficult moments—there are truly no words to express my gratitude. I hope life continues to shower you with grace, love, light, abundance, and most importantly, happiness 🫶.
i know this may be spoilery, but i was really curious if we're gonna be able to be more friendly to Neosho.
In the sense that she may join our side.
Mhmm, how far did you read to? 🤔
I think it was in the first part of Chapter 4 where readers got the choice to either throw Neosho out—letting Rallyum keep an eye on her to see if she’d return to her master—or take her to the dungeon for torture and questioning.
Now, for the first choice: if readers selected that and Rallyum saved Neosho just in time when her master was about to kill her, there’s a real possibility Neosho would join MC’s side and work as an agent for her. But if readers chose the second option, that might not happen. After being tortured, if Rallyum throws her out into the street, the assassin sent to finish the job will likely succeed, ending Neosho’s story there 💁♀️.
So, anon, if you want to be friendlier toward her, be sure to go with the first option. Yeah?
