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password is you

Sci-fi Romance
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What is password is you

Lee la novela password is you escrita por el autor Juhi_Bhanushali publicada en WebNovel. ...

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Bitter Sugars

“What are you making me watch?” my words came out breathlessly This scene was one that was all too familiar. It was the last scene of my people. Around me and before me, people were being chased down and impaled with silvered swords. Men, women, children, the blades and their wielders cared for not who they struck, for they struck all equally without mercy or hesitation. This was the ruthlessness of mankind my Grandmother warned me about, the cruelty we hoped was their distant past and not their present yet here we stood. Here I stood, unable to do much more than scream in agony and rage at my own foolinesses. This was all my fault. I had loved the wrong man and he took that love and wielded it to destroy my world. The past. Our past. This moment caused all that you know to come to be. This was the nightmare that haunted me, the ash that covered my room every morning came from here. I relived this moment so many times that it was impossible to forget. It was a part of the core of my soul, engraved as a warning to all. We watched as a man came over to the imprisonment rune and spoke words to us. To me. “I love you. I do, I just...I love my family and people more. The choice was my people or yours and I chose. That doesn’t mean we cannot have a happy future though...if you can forgive me. Please forgive me.” There were tears in his voice and in his eyes as he spoke to me. All I could do was scream in agony and attack the barrier between us. I had loved him fiercely and completely and he had betrayed not just me but everyone I loved. He had destroyed the very essence of what made me who I am. My family, my people, our lands, our story, all wiped out by him and his betrayal. Forgiveness? Never. I would rather stop breathing. I would rather stop ceasing to be than to forgive this violation. This is too big, too heavy to be forgiven in generations, let alone for a false belief of a one time love. I would destroy him and everything he ever held dear, just like he did to me.

Jalika_Wright · Fantasía
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10 Chs

THE GIRL AND THE GHOST

THE GHOST KNEW his master was about to die, and he wasn’t exactly unhappy about it. He knew that sounded bad. You’d think, after all those years together, that even he might have felt a twinge of sadness about the whole situation. But it’s hard to feel sorry for someone when: a) you’re a ghost, and everyone knows ghosts don’t have hearts, and b) that someone made her living out of forcing you to make other people miserable. He stared at her now as she lay on the narrow bed, gray and gaunt in the light of the full moon, her breath rasping and shallow. Watching her teeter slowly toward the end was a bit like watching a grape slowly become a raisin: the years had sucked the life and vitality out of her until she was nothing but a wrinkled shell of her former self. “Well,” she wheezed, squinting at him. Well, he said. “One more for the road, eh?” she said, nodding to the full moon out the window. And she grimaced as she offered him the ring finger of her right hand, as she had done so many times before. The ghost nodded. It seemed frivolous, but after all, he still needed to eat, whether or not his master lay dying. As he bent his head over the wrinkled hand, his sharp little teeth pricking the skin worn and calloused from time and use, the witch let out a sharp breath. Her blood used to be rich and strong and so thick with her magic that the ghost could get himself drunk on it, if he wasn’t careful. Now all he tasted was the stale tang of age, the sour notesthat came with impending death, and a bitter aftertaste he couldn’t quite place. Regret, perhaps. It was the regret that was hardest to swallow. The ghost drank nothing more than he had to, finishing quickly and sealing the tiny pinpricks of his teeth on her skin with spit. It is done, he told her, the words familiar as a favorite song, the ritual as comforting as a warm blanket. And I am bound to you, until the end. The witch patted his horned head gently. Her touch surprised him —she had never been particularly affectionate. “Well,” she said, her voice nothing more than a sigh. “The end is now.” And she turned her head to the window, where the sun was just rising over the cusp of the world, and died.

Ayomide_kusimo · Ciudad
Sin suficientes valoraciones
35 Chs

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