Author Of My Own Destiny Novels & Stories

"What if I don't want to follow what you call destiny?" He smiled, not with irony, but with devotion. "Then the whole world will bow to make you want to." "Because there is no destiny without your will, my queen." "Destiny is what you decide it to be." I wanted to deny it. I wanted to scream. But something deep inside me, something deep and ancient, whispered that he was right. And in that instant, I felt... time tremble. Perhaps, for the first time, I was about to write my own destiny.

We were one, yet distinct - a balance of instinct, fury, and heart. Isis, always present, whispered softly in my mind, a calming echo. “You do not have to be what the stories say. You define yourself. Your history does not define who you are, your choices do.” And I believed her. I could be powerful and still choose my own path. I could be rare, marked by prophecy, and still live my life on my own terms. I could embrace the fire, the wind, the ice, the claws, the scales - and yet remain simply me. That night, under the silver light of the moon, I realized something important: destiny might knock at my door, legends might speak my name, but the choice - always - would be mine.

"Isn't it strange that your fated mate could be half way across the world from you? Your pack members who found their mates here might have had to take chosens if they never met their mates." "It was meant to be, they were meant to find their fated mates eventually. One way or another the universe would have shifted and they would have found each other eventually. But I wouldn't have had it any other way." He turned to glance at me, "Coming here now tops the list of the best decisions I've made in my life so far." I smiled, "Since when did you start believing in things meant to be Roman? Do you suddenly believe in destiny now?" "I don't." He turned back to the mirror drying his hair, "I writ

He wiped out the darkness within me and gave me another life as a normal human being. It’s rightly said, ‘Everything is Written. We are mere puppets in the hands of destiny.’ I let out a deep sigh. Who knew what destiny was up to now?

Yes… Yes… I was the Destined.

Eli and every other person would easily betray me just to get some favor from Xavier. As the sun began its descent over the horizon, I rode out west, towards the setting sun. I was riding to destiny. "Destiny is not a matter of chance. It is a matter of choice. It was not a thing to be waited for, it is a thing to be achieved." The sages said and I would be flaming damned if I allow myself to be a waiting duck while Alpha Xavier has a field day.

But choice… choice defines destiny. And I was finally choosing mine.

“It writes the last page before the first one’s done, and then calls it destiny.” “Neat trick,” Jax said. “Very Calvinist.” Another shelf shimmered to my left. AUTHOR’S GRAVEYARD – CANON ENDINGS. I pulled a thinner volume there. Inside, I found my own Author Graveyard scene, stripped of nuance: SUBJECT FACED WITH PAST FAILURES. CHOSE TO CLAIM PEN. AGREED TO BECOME HIGH-YIELD RESOURCE. “That’s not what I agreed to,” I said. “That’s… not what I meant.”

I was the architect of my own story. THE END.

Keeping her alive when her body couldn't. I'd never believed in prayer. Church had been for appearances—board members, charity galas, the social contract of wealthy families. God was for people who needed crutches to face reality. But now... I looked at the ceiling. Felt foolish. But desperation makes fools of us all. "I don't know if you're listening," I said quietly. "I don't even know if you exist. My father taught me that men create their own destiny. That relying on anything beyond yourself is weakness."