Library
Search
Marked By Hell

Marked By Hell

Paranormal
last updateLast Updated : 2026-03-04
By:  S. A. HollowayOngoing
Language: English
goodnovel18goodnovel
Not enough ratings
48Chapters
838views
Read
Add to library

Share:  

Report
Overview
Catalog
SCAN CODE TO READ ON APP

Synopsis

Dark Romance

Steamy

Badboy

Demon

Beast

Hate to Love

Twisted

Forbidden Love

Third-Person POV

During the height of the plague, Elizabeth is known for touching the dying without fear and for surviving longer than anyone should. The village calls her witch. Death calls her interesting. Malachor is a demon bound to plague and passing souls, ancient and cruel, intrigued by a healer who refuses to beg. When Elizabeth is condemned, thrown into a plague pit, and left to die, she calls out, not to God, but to the darkness watching her. He answers. Bound to a demon of death, Elizabeth survives… and is slowly claimed. Desire becomes devotion. Mercy becomes sin. A dark historical fantasy romance of plague, power, and forbidden surrender where love corrupts, salvation fails, and Hell is the only vow kept. TRIGGER/CONTENT WARNING: This story contains mature themes and content intended for adult audiences (18+) Reader discretion is advised. It includes moments of violence, coercion and domination themes, sexual content and dark erotic elements, emotional trauma and moral corruption, blasphemous themes involving demons, faith, and damnation

View More

Latest chapter

More Chapters

You may also like

Related Novels

New Release Novels

To Readers

Welcome to GoodNovel world of fiction. If you like this novel, or you are an idealist hoping to explore a perfect world, and also want to become an original novel author online to increase income, you can join our family to read or create various types of books, such as romance novel, epic reading, werewolf novel, fantasy novel, history novel and so on. If you are a reader, high quality novels can be selected here. If you are an author, you can obtain more inspiration from others to create more brilliant works, what's more, your works on our platform will catch more attention and win more admiration from readers.

No Comments
48 Chapters
CHAPTER 1: When The Bell Tolls
Read more
CHAPTER 2: Hands That Do Not Fear
The morning after the first bell, the village woke as if it had been scolded in its sleep. Elizabeth stepped into the lane and felt the difference at once—not only the quiet, but the way the quiet watched her back. The air had a weight to it now, thick with fog and smoke and something softer that still made her stomach tighten: the sour-sweet undertone of sickness, like fruit left too long in the sun. Doors that had once been left cracked for air were shut tight now, boards nailed across the worst of the gaps. Cloth hung in windows like bandages—old linen, torn skirts, strips of sackcloth—anything to cover a mouth-shaped opening where breath could escape. The smoke from hearths rose straight and heavy, too thick for the wind to carry away, turning the village into a bowl that held every breath, every prayer, every smell. They were trying to trap warmth. Or keep something out. Elizabeth pulled her shawl closer and walked toward the well. Dampness clung to her skirts, soaking t
Read more
CHAPTER 3: Marked by Mercy
Elizabeth stopped leaving her door open. It was a small thing—one she barely noticed herself—but by the third morning it had become habit. She lifted the latch behind her, slid the wooden bar into place, and paused with her palm resting on the door as if expecting it to shudder beneath her touch. She dressed more slowly than usual. Not from weakness, but from care. She chose darker wool, a longer apron, pinned her dirty blonde curls tighter than before. She did not wear the small charm of dried rosemary she’d once kept tucked into her bodice. She did not want to be accused of believing in protection that was not sanctioned. When she stepped into the street, the village was already awake. Not bustling—never bustling anymore—but alert in a way that set her teeth on edge. People spoke in pairs now, never alone. Heads bent together, then lifted as she passed. Conversations stopped. Not abruptly. Politely. Elizabeth nodded to those she knew. Some nodded back, stiff and distant.
Read more
CHAPTER 4: What Watches the Sleeper
Elizabeth lay on her narrow bed with her hands folded over her stomach, listening to the village settle into its nightly stillness. It was not the quiet of peace. It was the quiet of things shut away too tightly—breath held, fear pressed down until it seeped into dreams. The candle on her table burned low, its flame wavering as if unsettled by movement the room itself did not acknowledge. Shadows gathered in the corners, thickening where the walls met the ceiling. Elizabeth closed her eyes anyway. When sleep finally claimed her, it was shallow and heavy, dragging her under rather than welcoming her in. Her dreams were not images, but sensations. Warmth, first. Not the fevered heat she had come to associate with sickness, but something steadier. Close. As though another body occupied the space beside her, radiating presence without weight. She shifted slightly, brow furrowing. The air changed. It thickened—not with smoke or rot, but with something older. Dry. Metallic. Li
Read more
CHAPTER 5: The Rules of Containment
Elizabeth heard the announcement first as a murmur rippling through the square, a low gathering of voices that did not carry panic so much as purpose. Purpose was worse. Panic scattered. Purpose stayed. She was returning from the south lane when she saw the men assembled outside the granary—five of them this time, not the usual two. Father Aldric stood among them, his hands folded, his gaze fixed on the ground. The chain-wearer was there as well, and another man Elizabeth did not recognise, his hair cut close, his mouth set in a thin, decisive line. A small crowd had gathered at a distance. No one stood too close. People left space between their bodies now, invisible lines drawn in chalk and fear. Elizabeth slowed. The man with the close-cropped hair stepped forward. He cleared his throat. “In light of recent developments,” he began, voice steady, rehearsed, “the council has agreed on temporary measures to preserve the health of the village.” Elizabeth heard the word measu
Read more
CHAPTER 6: The First Whisper
Dawn crept through the cracks in the shutters, painting faint stripes of pale light across Elizabeth's tangled sheets. Her body stirred, heavy with the remnants of sleep and something deeper, more insistent—a dull ache that pulsed from her core outward, making her skin prickle with unmet need. She blinked awake, her frame shifting under the covers, nipples still hard and throbbing against the rumpled nightshirt she'd yanked back down sometime in the night. The fabric chafed them roughly, sending fresh sparks of heat straight to her core,, already slick and swollen from whatever dreams had haunted her. Elizabeth's breath came shallow, her chest rising and falling as she lay there, staring at the wooden beams overhead. The room smelled of sweat and faint musk, her own arousal clinging to the air like a secret. She swung her legs over the bed's edge, bare feet hitting the cool floor. Every movement rubbed her sensitive body wrong—or right—fabric whispering against her thighs. El
Read more
CHAPTER 7: What He Wants
Elizabeth learned quickly when he chose to speak. It was never when she was strong. Not when her hands were steady or her thoughts clear. Not when she moved with purpose through the village, spine straight, eyes forward. He waited for the moments that came afterward—when her body sagged under its own weight, when the careful order she imposed on herself began to fray. The first time, she was alone in her cottage, seated at the table with her head bowed over her hands. The day had been long—too many houses, too many dying breaths, too many faces that looked to her as if she could still make the world behave. Her shoulders ached. Her wrists throbbed faintly. She exhaled and let her eyes close. 'You endure well.' The voice slid into her awareness without warning. Elizabeth stiffened. Her fingers curled against the wood, nails pressing into the grain. She did not look around. She had learned that looking did nothing. “I didn’t ask,” she said quietly. 'No,' he replied.
Read more
CHAPTER 8: The Stream Beyond the Fields
Elizabeth waited until dusk. The light had softened by then, the sun sinking low enough that its warmth felt borrowed rather than owned. The sky bruised slowly—lavender bleeding into gray, then deepening toward violet—as if the day itself had been handled too roughly. The village retreated inward as it always did now. No one noticed her leave. Elizabeth slipped beyond the last line of cottages, following the narrow path that wound between hedges and stone walls, pressed into the earth by generations of feet. Feet that had carried water and laundry. Feet that had carried bodies, too. Grief had its own paths, worn as deeply. The stream lay low in its banks, swollen from recent rain, its surface darkened by shadow and leaf-fall. It moved steadily, quietly, unconcerned with plague or prayer or the careful rules of men. Reeds bent along its edges, whispering softly as the current passed, their thin leaves brushing one another with a sound like breath. Elizabeth paused at the bank
Read more
CHAPTER 9: The Cost of Standing
Elizabeth woke with her body drawn inward, as if it had never fully rested. Not from cold—though the morning air crept thin and gray through the cracks in her shutters—but from a deep fatigue that clung to her body like damp wool. Her limbs felt heavy, uncooperative, as though they had labored through the night. She lay still for a long moment, staring at the ceiling, listening to the small sounds of her own body: the slow rasp of breath, the faint thud of her pulse in her ears. The warmth from the stream was gone. What remained was soreness. A dull burn in her calves. A stiffness in her lower back. When she flexed her fingers, her joints protested sharply. She sat up slowly, giving her body time to catch up with the movemen . It did not entirely. The room tilted just enough to remi
Read more
CHAPTER 10: God’s House Is Not Safe
The church smelled of cold stone and old smoke. Elizabeth noticed it the moment she crossed the threshold, as if the air itself had thinned to accommodate what was no longer welcome here. Incense had been rationed like everything else. What remained clung faintly to the walls, trapped in the cracks of carved saints and the grooves worn smooth by generations of kneeling knees. She dipped her fingers into the holy water at the door. It was cold. Shockingly so. She held them there a moment longer than necessary, letting the chill bite, letting it prove something to her body—that this place still had rules. Boundaries. That not everything could follow her inside. The nave was mostly empty. A few figures knelt in scattered pews, spaced apart as if faith itself had become contagious. No one looked at her directly, but she felt the awareness ripple as she passed—heads lowering, shoulders stiffening, prayers tightening into something guarded. Elizabeth chose a pew near the front.
Read more
View More
Explore and read good novels for free
Free access to a vast number of good novels on GoodNovel app. Download the books you like and read anywhere & anytime.
Read books for free on the app
SCAN CODE TO READ ON APP
DMCA.com Protection Status