Small Update + Noe ‘Ula 1/6
Dear Beloved Readers,
I’m excited to share a small change with you. Moving forward, I’ll be publishing The Cycles of Ton in shorter, serialized snippets rather than long chapters. This will let me share the story with you more often, in a format that’s easier to read and follow.
Thank you so much for being on this journey with me—the story’s heart remains the same, but now you’ll be able to experience it in smaller, more frequent pieces.
With gratitude,
RC
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Rainn stared vacantly at the monitor screen and ran over the sentence he had just read from user-NinjaScyth666 in his mind. The sentence had appeared a minute earlier, but after a ten second auto-timer had vanished into the recesses of the Disapeer site database, supposedly gone forever. Rainn wondered if there was any truth to the website’s advertisement, which was emboldened on the homepage heading and included the words: anonymous, confidential, untraceable. He hoped so, but more for the sake of NinjaScyth666 than for himself.
The last message from NinjaScyth666 had read:
Roger on location—need cash, however.
Rainn’s neck began to bother him. He turned his head to the right, to the left. He squeezed his shoulder blades together and puffed out his chest, engaging his core muscles simultaneously. The pain bloomed steadily; the thoughts began to run their course.
“Goddamnit.” He rose from the desk chair.
He walked to his twin-bed. The sheeting was crumpled and askew; the only pillow vaguely outlined his head from the night before. He swiped an unlabeled amber pill bottle from his nightstand, where dust collected on the surface. He emptied out four tabs and tossed them in his mouth. He didn’t need any liquid to swallow the pills.
He sat down at his desk. The headache began to assert itself, and the thoughts—those dark, probing thoughts—smashed through his already strained mental defenses like a battering ram. Just breathe—just breathe and be still and be present. Centering. It’s all about centering. That’s what Diana said, right? And she knows what she’s talking about, doesn’t she? What do you feel? I feel… like shit. No, what do you feel? The carpet on my bare feet—okay, good. I can feel the keys under my hands and the hum from my PC through my hands. Good, now listen to it. Yes, I hear the humming. What else? There are cars going by outside. It rained yesterday. I hear tires against slush. Pain surged between Rainn’s eyes. It felt like a claw ravaging the nerves and musculature of his forehead.
He rushed back to his computer. He paused, thought for a moment, and rattled off his response on the ergonomic keyboard:
user-Noe’Ula: Will leave funds in glove compartment, chrome-blue 2009 saab 9-3, LP#RAN907, Bird-to-Girdwood Pathway Access
