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Ray Kross Presents: The Dark Protocol

Ray Kross Presents: The Dark Protocol

By: Serialized dark fiction and audio dramas from the mind of Ray Kross.
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Some signals were never meant to be decrypted. The Dark Protocol delivers full-length independent novels serialized chapter-by-chapter. This feed serves as the master archive for Ray Kross’s speculative fiction, tracking a descent into psychological suspense and dark fantasy.


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Ray Kross Science Fiction
Episodes
  • Episode 7: Centrellus, Chapter 13

    Episode 7: Centrellus, Chapter 13
    Sep 18 2026
    Chapter 13: Passages and Power (Raisa's Story, Part 2)OneRaisa returned to what she still called home, though her heart longed for something more. The tiny village of Selvara, nestled in the shadow of Vennug's forested hills, had been her sanctuary for so long. It was a quiet place of familiar faces, the rhythm of its days marked by the tinkling of the river and the soft rustle of the trees.Raisa was able to find work as a seamstress and was able to save up enough gold to rent a loft in a barn, owned by an old friend of her late parents. It was small, but for now, it was her home.Raisa couldn't shake the feeling that Selvara had grown too small for her. The stories Hirum had shared gave her something to strive for. A vast world, full of possibilities, occupied her thoughts as her needle slipped through fabric, the repetitive motion soothing. A broader horizon was calling. Leaving Selvara seemed inevitable, though leaving all of Vennug wasn't yet part of her plans. She wasn't ready to go that far—at least, not yet.Then the fair came, bringing a rush of life and color into the village.Selvara's Spring Festival was a tradition, but this year it felt livelier than ever. Vibrant banners swayed above bustling stalls, while scents of roasting meats, spiced cider, and sweet honey tarts filled the air. Villagers mingled with visitors from across Vennug, their excitement contagious. For Raisa, it was impossible to resist.She wound through the throng, taking in every sight, sound, and smell. At a food stall, she tried a flaky pie stuffed with savory greens. At another, she admired hand-carved wooden animals while chatting briefly with the cheerful artisan who made them. The festival's lively music lured her toward the main square, where a troupe of dancers twirled and leapt in perfect synchronization. For a moment, Raisa felt weightless, swept into the joy of the crowd.But the moment shattered with a scream.A young boy had wriggled away from his mother and climbed onto a high platform strung with garlands of flowers. Raisa's breath caught as she saw the flimsy railing splinter, leaving the child swaying perilously on the edge. The mother's cries cut through the chaos, and the crowd froze in horror.Raisa couldn't think—she could only act. Her hand lifted instinctively, her magic pulsing to life. She felt its energy reach out, a force unseen but definitely there, steadying the boy and pulling him back to safety. He toppled onto the platform, unharmed, as cheers erupted around her.Relief washed over Raisa, but it lasted only a second before she heard the voice."Well done," came the man's voice, smooth and commanding.Raisa turned sharply to see a man emerging from the crowd. His attire—a rich cloak pinned with a golden brooch—was a stark contrast to the villagers' simple clothes. His blue eyes, sharp and penetrating, locked onto hers. He was unmistakably of noble blood."I believe you are called Raisa?" The man's smile was charming, but something about it sent a shiver down her spine."Who's asking?" she replied, her voice steady despite the nervous flutter in her chest.The man inclined his head slightly. "Prince Edgar Xianne, of Vennug."Raisa's heart pounded. The Prince. What was he doing here?"I've heard of you," Edgar said. "Your name reached me some time ago, along with whispers of your... unique abilities. And what I've just seen only confirms the truth."Raisa's pulse raced. She had been so careful, so cautious. Yet, somehow, she had drawn his attention."You must be mistaken," she said quickly, her voice clipped.Edgar's smile didn't waver. "Come now, Raisa. You've shown what you can do. And I believe you can do so much more." He leaned in slightly, his tone softening as if sharing a secret. "I'm offering you a chance—a position at my side as Royal Consultant. The palace could use someone with your talents. You'd live in the Palace, in a beautiful suite customized to your liking. You'd get to travel all of Vennug. You'd be well compensated and would want for absolutely nothing."Her stomach flipped. The offer was tempting. The thought of leaving Selvara, starting fresh in a grand palace, filled her with excitement. Yet there was something in Prince Edgar's eyes, an edge that kept her guard up."I don't... I don't know," she stammered, her emotions battling within her. Was this the opportunity she'd been waiting for—or a trap?"I'm departing tomorrow afternoon. I will find you before I leave. You can give me your answer then. Sleep on it, Raisa." Edgar continued to smile, staring directly into her hazel eyes. He would not take no for an answer.Unbeknownst to Raisa, Edgar's men had orchestrated the entire spectacle. The boy and his mother had been paid handsomely to play their parts, while the platform had been sabotaged to ensure Raisa's magic would be forced into action. Edgar was not a man who left things to luck—his plans were meticulous, his ambition boundless.As Edgar walked away, fading into the ...
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    53 mins
  • Episode 6: Centrellus, Chapter 12

    Episode 6: Centrellus, Chapter 12
    Sep 7 2026
    Chapter 12: Ashes and Awakenings (Raisa's Story, Part 1)OneThe common room was a pocket of warmth carved out of the mountain’s perpetual chill. Firelight from the stone hearth pushed back the damp shadows that clung to the corners where the mortar had crumbled. The air was a thick blend of woodsmoke, drying herbs hung from the beams, and the earthy, mineral scent of the stone itself. A clay pot of tea simmered by the fire, its lid rattling softly with each bubble.The furniture wasn’t just old; it was a record. The oak table bore a deep, dark stain where Raisa’s grandfather had once spilled a whole jug of wine during a storytelling fit. The chairs had their personalities: one rocked stubbornly on a shortened leg, another had arms worn smooth by decades of anxious hands. The walls, uneven and cool to the touch, were a patchwork of soot stains and pale spots where tapestries had hung before being sold for seed.In the center of this worn, beloved space, seven-year-old Raisa stood like a conqueror. She held a stripped willow branch—her scepter—clutched in both small, grubby hands. The fire painted her in gold and dancing shadow. Her hazel eyes weren’t just bright; they were fierce with concentration, reflecting the flames. A spray of freckles across her nose and cheeks stood out against skin flushed pink from the heat and her own racing heart. Her dark brown hair, forever escaping the frayed green ribbon her mother had tied it with, fell in a wild cascade over the shoulders of her hand-me-down tunic. She wasn’t just playing a magician. In that moment, with her parents’ smiling faces turned up to her from their old, worn couch, she *was* one. The queen of this snug, smoky kingdom. She took a deep breath, inhaling the pine-scented air, and raised her scepter high."Behold!" Raisa proclaimed, her voice carrying all the exaggerated drama of a child's imagination. "The Great Raisa will now turn this pebble... into a diamond!"She placed a plain pebble, dull gray and smoothed by river water, onto the center of the scarred wooden table. With an elaborate gesture of her stick, she tapped the stone, her brow furrowed in fierce concentration. Her small hands trembled slightly as she focused, her lips pursed as though willing the magic into being.The room seemed to hold its breath. Suddenly, a faint shimmer enveloped the pebble, a flickering light like the dance of fireflies on a summer night. The glow was fleeting, but undeniable.A soft gasp escaped her mother, a woman of quiet beauty with dark, almond-shaped eyes and a nurturing warmth that seemed to radiate from her. "Did you see that?" she whispered, her voice trembling with surprise and just a hint of fear.Raisa's father leaned forward, his weathered face illuminated by the firelight. His broad shoulders, hunched from years of hard labor in the fields, seemed to tense as he studied the pebble. His dark eyes, sharp yet kind, narrowed slightly. "What was that, Raisa?" he asked, his deep voice carrying a cautious curiosity.The shimmer faded as quickly as it had appeared, leaving the pebble unchanged. Raisa's bright excitement dimmed, her shoulders slumping in disappointment. "It didn't work," she murmured, her fingers curling tightly around the stick.Her mother quickly offered a reassuring smile, smoothing a strand of hair from Raisa's face. "It's alright, darling. Magic tricks take practice," she said, though her gaze flicked briefly to her husband, a silent exchange of concern passing between them.Her father chuckled, though the sound was uneasy. He picked up the pebble, turning it over in his rough, callused hands. "Yes, even then, they're just illusions," he said, his expression thoughtful. His tone carried an edge of forced normalcy, as if trying to convince himself as much as his daughter. "You've got quite an imagination, Raisa. That's a good thing."The tension in the room was subtle but present—an undercurrent Raisa was too young to fully understand. To her, the moment simply felt incomplete, as if her parents were holding something back.Her mother broke the silence, her tone cheerful as she ruffled Raisa's hair. "Now, how about some hot cocoa? It's getting late, and you'll need to be up early tomorrow to help your father."The promise of cocoa lightened the mood, and the family settled into their evening routine. The fire crackled on, casting a comforting glow over the room. But as her parents moved about the tasks of tidying up, Raisa remained by the table, her small fingers flexing and unflexing.She couldn't shake the memory of the faint shimmer, the tingling sensation still lingering at her fingertips. She looked down at her hands, turning them over as though they might hold the answer. Deep down, she felt a strange certainty—a whisper of something hidden, waiting to be discovered. The glow had felt real, more than just a trick of the firelight.As the warmth of the hearth wrapped around her and the promise of cocoa hung in the air, ...
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    51 mins
  • Episode 5: Centrellus, Chapters 10-11

    Episode 5: Centrellus, Chapters 10-11
    Aug 20 2026
    Centrellus by Ray KrossChapter 10: Echoes of Celebration (Hannah’s Story)OneThe biting December wind whipped across the parking lot of the McClure Motel, carrying with it the scent of woodsmoke and the distant hum of holiday carols. Hannah, now a twenty-one year old senior at Edinboro University, pulled her old Volvo into a space beside the office, the engine sighing in relief as she turned the key. A string of multicolored Christmas lights, slightly crooked and charmingly haphazard, outlined the motel’s facade, casting a warm, inviting glow against the encroaching darkness.She stepped out of the car, the cold air instantly nipping at her cheeks. A half-hearted smile tugged at her lips as she surveyed the familiar sight. Home. Even with its slightly peeling paint and the neon sign that flickered intermittently, it was a comforting beacon in the winter landscape.Inside the small office, the air was thick with the aroma of pine and cinnamon. Carl, her father, stood behind the check-in counter, his weathered hands polishing a brass bell. He looked up, his face breaking into a wide grin.“Hannah girl!” he boomed, his voice rough but warm. “You made it through that snow.”“Daddy,” Hannah replied, her voice softening. She crossed the room and hugged him tightly. “It wasn’t too bad. Just glad to be here.”Carl held her at arm’s length, his eyes searching her face. “You look a little…tired.”Hannah shrugged, forcing a smile. “Just college stuff. You know.”He didn’t press, but his gaze lingered, a silent question hanging in the air.“Where’s Carrie?” Hannah asked, changing the subject.“She’s in the apartment, putting the finishing touches on dinner,” Carl replied, his voice laced with pride. “She and Keith are excited to see you.”Hannah’s smile finally reached her eyes. “Good. I’m excited to see them too.”As she walked towards the apartment behind the office, the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses drifted through the thin walls. Inside, the apartment was a riot of Christmas cheer. A small, but vibrant Christmas tree stood in the corner, adorned with handmade ornaments and twinkling lights. Carrie, her sister, was bustling around the small kitchen, her cheeks flushed with warmth. Keith, Carrie’s husband, was leaning against the counter, nursing a glass of eggnog.“Hannah!” Carrie exclaimed, abandoning the stove to embrace her sister. “You’re here! It feels like forever.”“It’s only been a few weeks, dork,” Hannah chuckled, returning the hug.“Feels like months,” Carrie countered, pulling back to study Hannah’s face. “You look…a little down. What’s wrong?”Keith, ever the peacemaker, spoke up. “Leave her alone, Car. She probably just had a long drive.”Carrie shot him a playful glare before turning back to Hannah. “Well, whatever it is, we’ve got Christmas cheer to fix it! Eggnog?”Hannah hesitated, then nodded. “Please.”As she accepted the drink, the warmth of the apartment and the love of her family began to melt away the chill that had settled in her bones. But beneath the surface, a familiar ache lingered, a reminder of the loneliness she carried with her from Edinboro.TwoThe small dining table in Carl and Valerie’s apartment was laden with a feast of Christmas Eve traditions. A golden-brown ham sat at the center, surrounded by bowls of creamy mashed potatoes, bright green beans, and a colorful array of salads. The air crackled with the warmth of the oven and the mingled scents of savory food and sweet spices.Carrie, ever the hostess, flitted around the table like a sparrow. She adjusted forks that were already straight and topped off glasses of sparkling cider that were still full. Her laughter was a bright, determined sound, but it rang a little too loud in the small room, bouncing off the heavy quiet that Hannah had carried in with her like a suitcase.Keith watched his wife’s nervous energy with a patient smile. He raised his glass, the cider catching the light from the tinsel-draped lamp. “To family,” he said, his voice a warm, solid rumble. “And to being together.”“Hear, hear,” Carl added, his voice gravelly. He didn’t raise his glass. Instead, his big, work-roughened hand found Valerie’s on the tablecloth, his thumb rubbing slow circles over her knuckles. His gaze kept drifting to her face, not with pity, but with a fierce, helpless vigilance.Valerie sat at the head of the table, propped slightly by a cushion. The chemo had stolen the color from her face, leaving her skin pale and translucent, a map of faint blue veins. A soft, patterned scarf covered her head. She moved with a deliberate care, as if her bones were made of old glass. But her eyes—those were still Valerie’s. They held a spark of wry, undimmed joy. A faint sheen of sweat glossed her upper lip, but her smile was real.“To my people,” she said, her voice thinner than it used to be, but clear. “My noisy, wonderful ...
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    1 hr and 9 mins
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