Buried Hearts Ep 1 Novels & Stories

My heart skipped a beat, my tears moist right then. I dropped to a crouch and held him, pressing my ear against his chest again. I could hear his heartbeat, thumping powerfully through his thin shirt. It was such a familiar sensation. It was Stan's heartbeat. As I closed my eyes, my tears flowed ever so quietly. We stayed like that for a while, and as I wiped my tears, I held Nathan firmly in my arms once more. "Please live a good life with Stan's heart." - Nathan walked with me to the gates of the orphanage, but I never once turned to look at him again.

Raven leapt forward, slicing through fragments breaking off from the main body. Ethan raised both hands— Silver energy surged upward— And collided with the Heart. The impact— Shattered everything. Light and darkness exploded outward in a blinding storm. The ground fractured. Walls cracked. Towers trembled violently. For a moment— It held. Then— The barriers broke. --- The Fall Within The Heart didn’t stop at the surface. It pushed through. Into the sanctuary. Into the core. “No…” Kael’s voice dropped. “It’s inside…” The ground split open, revealing the energy veins beneath—once silver, now flickering violently between light and shadow.

“Family.” “Loud family,” I muttered, though I didn't pull away. “But still here,” he said, his voice dropping into that low, serious tone that made my heart skip. “All of us.” Are dead. Chariiizz, that was a K-drama title. I closed my eyes, letting the warmth of the pale morning sun and the steady beat of his heart settle into my bones. The ghosts of the basement, the blood, the smoke, and Jasper’s dying spite, finally started to dissolve.

Thus, he was walking and begging on the busy street of Toronto. I am all wounded and tired, but I cannot let them over take his soul, the police were chasing him down. I am torn from fighting and looking at him. One of the Eater manage to thrust his sword on my knee. I took it and slash him with the same sword. I run and follow the other Eaters that is tailing Harold. He turned left on the abandoned alley and bumped on an old man. He fell and the man took the bag from him. I watched them from afar, the Eaters were surrounding Harold they are waiting for one wrong move he will make before they all get into his heart. The old man told him to hide inside the garbage bin, he took the bag and wai

Her eyes were wider than ever as pain tore through every nerve in her body. When he finally found her heart, he held it in his hand. T-Murek was puzzled when he didn’t feel any heartbeat. He looked up at her face and was utterly disappointed to see that her eyes were closed. T-Murek gave her a gentle slap on the chin. She felt lifeless and cold. She was already dead, and it devastated him. He forcefully dragged her heart out and left it to hang from her chest.

"A man of your standing, Lord Alaric... I can hardly imagine anyone being foolish enough to take anything from you. Or perhaps, you simply misplaced it." A tight, dangerous smile tugged at the corner of his lips. It wasn't a smile of warmth; it was the look of a predator who had finally cornered its prey and was enjoying the frantic struggle before the strike. "Oh, it wasn't misplaced. It was buried. Deep beneath the soil where everyone thought it would turn to dust. But the thing about bad seeds is that they always find a way to grow back towards the light, no matter how much dirt you throw over them." The breath caught in my throat. The metaphor was too precise, the delivery too deliberate

I whispered, but my voice stayed stuck, buried under the weight of the ice. The third heartbeat answered from the void—louder, closer, and hungry for the remainder. It was coming for the heart. Leo’s eyes shut, the gold embers dying out completely. I pulled him tight, clutching him like a small, frozen coffin. His breathing stopped. I buried my face in his hair; I couldn't smell the scent of milk anymore, only the biting, frozen scent of ash. Only my own heartbeat remained, thudding lonely against the silent obsidian—a hollow, terrified vigil for a child who was already gone.

He was selfish, through and through. The next morning, I stepped out of my room carrying the urn. Mike was still kneeling on the floor. It had only been one night, but he looked like a wreck—his eyes swollen and bloodshot, his hair a tangled mess, his face pale as a ghost. When he saw me, he tried to stand, but his legs had gone numb from kneeling too long. He wobbled, then collapsed back to the ground. His gaze landed on the urn in my arms, and he knew—I was taking my mom to be laid to rest.

I quietly wiped my tears away and jumped off the cliff without any hesitation. "No!" Timothy woke up with a start, and his pajamas were drenched in sweat. Zoe was sitting by his bed, the rims of her eyes red while she shed tears in silence. "Timothy, is Melanie really dead?" Timothy's heart was now pounding with frustration. He got up and lit up a cigarette as he stood by the window. Alas, not even smoking a whole pack could ease the frustration he was feeling. Zoe's sobbing was nearly driving him insane.

I said to him. “Who is she?” “I don’t know, I’ve never seen her before, but in the dream I knew I loved her, I felt my soul dying as I held her lifeless body in my arms,” I said to him. “Where did you bury me?” he asked and I looked at him. “What the fuck kind of question is that?” I asked him. “I’m just curious,” he said. “I buried your heart with Mom,” I said and he smiled at that.