Atonement Synonym Novels & Stories

He drops to the ground, and I see a flash of another body – bloody, human, hands raised, begging for mercy… My hands start to shake, and I grab Christian by the throat, long before he can stand. “Atonement. This will make it right.” “Another death?” he gasps, blinking in disorientation, even though that sizzling, bloody mark on his temple is already healing. “How could that make right any sin? Whatever you’ve done--” “Shut-up! This is not murder. You are already dead, you evil abomination--” “And you’re rambling,” he cuts me off, eyes holding mine. “And still, so very much, hesitating.”

"It was-oddly honest. If only Moroccans and journalists were like you." He glanced at me oddly. There was a hint of amusement and maybe delight lingering behind his eyes. "You're brusque." I faltered for a moment. That comment left me addled. I cocked my head to the side. "People call me many things but I have never gotten called brusque before." Orion winced lightly, sending me a horrified look. "Oh, God-no. I meant that in a good way, not as an insult. I'm sorry, that sounded very-"

“We are cowards. We ran from the beast, and yet, you fought it and won.” “Yea!” the rest yelled. Termâs held up his hands to get silence once again. He looked around at the crowd. “Saron…Saron always taught me to reflect on what just happened, whether it is big or small so we should all reflect on this day. I never gave much thought to that saying of the old cleric, but now… Let us pray for the departed who are still lying unburied on the field. We still have our lives to be grateful for, but they gave theirs in a noble effort.” The young guard bowed his head, as did the others. “Let us remember our friends and families who were lost here this week.”

"Davin, thank you for bringing Kathy back." Davin averted his gaze, his eyes carrying a subtle warmth. With an elegant demeanor, he poured a cup of tea for Dad and said with a smile, "Don't mention it. It's my honor that Kathy chose me."

I don’t reply and he sucks in a breath, and I hear him head to the door. “Good night.” He says quietly. I don’t reply. The door opens and I close my eyes as it shuts with a small snap. I drop onto the sofa, gripping the edges as I hang my head. Atticus has an almost identical birthmark. There are three points. The Sublime Triquetra… Repercussion, Retribution and Redemption. The Sable Triquetra… Revenge, Retribution and Rebirth Trifecta needed to purge the world.

"Now, you will call some of our... friends. The women especially. You will tell them we are organizing a small private retreat at the lake. To discuss the future, in intimacy. They will come. They are always curious." A smile, the first in days, brushes my lips. It is not a smile of joy. It is the spark of a blacksmith watching the metal begin to glow red, ready to be reforged in fire and under the hammer. "Atonement, Auracio, is not done on one's knees in the shadows. It is done standing, before witnesses, with red hands and a clear gaze. That is how one redeems oneself. That is how one repairs." I turn on my heel to leave the room, leaving him alone with the specter of the act to come. At

"But actually I'm curious to hear what they have to say. What exactly is wrong with someone like Tristian?" "He's a sinner Haven," Abby sneered. "And clearly he's making you one too. You dress like a slut, people have seen you drinking at restaurants, and this little carefree attitude you have lately is not cute or Godly! It is horribly obvious that you are off the path of righteousness." "Now wait a minute-"

I laughed like a lunatic, even as tears streamed down my face. How laughable that it took me until this very moment to realize that everything had been one massive, naked deception! "Atone?!" I pointed my finger right at her, screaming at the top of my lungs. "The ones who actually sinned and need to atone are you! Aria, I will never forgive you as long as I live! I hate you!" Guilt washed over Aria's eyes. She averted her gaze, not daring to look at me. Right then, Tom cradled his hand, tears welling up in his eyes. "Aria, my finger... I think a rat bit it. It hurts so bad."

All he got from her was a stare that hinted nothing. They quietly carried on with their dinner until she decided to break the silence. “Atonement.” “What?” “Anyone who violates the rights of others must certainly atone for the damages or harm they did. Killing is a sin. You must atone for your sins.” “I enjoyed killing those people, yes. And perhaps it was my addiction. Addiction is an illness and not a crime.” Did he ever ask to be what he had become? He certainly did not, but couldn’t complain either. Should he be ashamed that he enjoyed every second he spent with his victims? Will shamelessly thought not.

It made him want to run faster. Because that was the most terrifying part. Anton would wait. He would endure Sabatine’s fear, his ghosts, his inevitable failures. He would love him through it. And that kind of steadfast love was a debt Sabatine wasn’t sure he could ever repay. He’d spent his life balancing ledgers of guilt and atonement. This was a ledger with only one side—a bottomless column of grace being deposited in his name. It was overwhelming. A memory surfaced, unbidden. From the cottage in Cornwall. Anton’s voice, rough with exhaustion: “You are a tested thing. A proven thing. Every scar… is a stress-test you survived.”