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Paragon of Death

Life from birth has been nothing but hell. I lost my parents to some stupid aristocrats whom they offended. Executed for no good reason. My relatives abandoned me and pushed me aside. They feared for their lives and left me and my sister to starve and wander the streets alone! No, this is worse than hell! I watched my sister die of starvation. Her lips were dry and her feet bloody. Her nails were broken and her fingers riddled with cuts. She struggled in my hands and after a few seconds of struggle she passed away. She seemed joyful in death so I prayed mine will come just as swift and merciful as hers. So I stayed in the alleyway, alone with her rotten corpse awaiting my fate for God knows how long. I could see it already. The darkness encroaching from all sides Everyone said death is scary but I say it's the end! Who needs life after death? What is the need for reincarnation? Who would want to return to this crazy world? "It's not yet time for you to go... You have one more task to accomplish as my host" A voice called out to me. I could barely see or speak but how can I miss such a beautiful face? It was an extremely handsome man who gazed at me with tender eyes. "Haven't I suffered enough? Can't I just rest?" I cried out. Why would I want to stay back in such a cruel world? "Don't you want to avenge the death of your parents? Don't you want to become something greater? I can make that happen!" The beautiful man said with an alluring voice. "You... Who are you?" I asked with an anxious heart. My parents always said God is the only one who cares about me! Maybe in my final hours, he has come to save me. "Call me Death..."

3_Sins_Studios · Fantasy
Not enough ratings
691 Chs

Failed Plan

Derek stood on the battlefield, his chest heaving up and down with each labored breath. The wound on his chest continued to bleed profusely, the crimson liquid staining his once-pristine white shirt. He clenched his jaw in pain, his werewolf healing abilities were greatly suppressed by the vampiric aura lingering within them. The attacks of the werewolf had been devastating, and just as a vampire's assault was lethal to a werewolf, the inverse was equally true.

Beside him, Mozan lay unconscious, his usually regal and imposing form reduced to vulnerability. Derek's intentions for this leader ran deep, and he couldn't allow himself to falter, despite the pain gnawing at him. He knew he had to keep Mozan away from the reach of his vampire comrades at all costs.