Novel & Cerita Dark Souls 2 Lost Sinner

Delina looked at everyone in the room with a tired gaze. “I want to apologize to everyone for the disturbance.” After saying it, she turned her head toward Dante. “Put down your gun! Let us finish the funeral ceremony first and after that, I am taking the two of you for lunch.” She suggested before taking her seat. Dante was hesitating whether he should pull the trigger and kill Sergio right then or do as he was told. His whole life, he had no clue about his mother and he never looked for her either because of how his father reacted whenever she was brought up in a conversation.

She had told him about their scary and terrifying figures and their names. The one who was a tall and had gaunt figure with sunken eyes that glowed like smoldering coals was named Morgrath. Her black robes hung loosely around her skeletal frame, giving her an air of ethereal menace. Morgrath was a master of necromancy, capable of commanding the spirits of the departed to do her bidding. Seraphina had told him was said that she wore jewellery made out of the bones and cursed artifacts, which were remnants of her twisted experiments.

“My apologies. I don’t believe we have been introduced but I can’t help myself. My name is Soren Wilkins.” It was no more than a minute ago that my dad had announced his wish to find me an eligible young man and this guy had already shown up. I was tempted to give him a cold shoulder. However, with so many onlookers, there was so little I could do so I put my hand in his. As soon as our skin made contact, images flashes through my very eyes and I could have a glimpse of what was going to happen or perhaps what indeed had happened in my previous life. Whichever that was, I knew that the man before me was Sinner No. 2. He was one of the people, guilty of my pack’s downfall and my father's deat

Only if I had known my soul would have been sold for nothing, I would have ended it. The room hadn't changed a bit all these years. Same dark walls that made the room intimidating and the absolute perfection in the way it was organized just as its owner, hiding all that evil just barely underneath the surface, simmering and waiting for the perfect time to strike its prey. I repressed a shudder and took a seat waiting for him to notice my presence in the room. He was writing in a journal on the desk, I had always wondered what he wrote in there, the number of people he killed, or the latest mission he accomplished?

said Dark, wearing his usual shadow, but it assumed the form of a long robe with a hood, quite alike with Death’s trademark costume. “I d-did not—” She was left screaming when flames laced around her wrist, connecting all the way to the bottom of the tube. “Don’t deny it. You killed Zeniah, coercing a boy to do your bidding, and making the forbidden artifact. Do you admit of your crime?”

I climbed into the SUV, the engine roaring to life. As I sped away from the burning bar, watching the flames in the rearview mirror, I dialed Damian’s number. "Lucian?" Damian answered on the first ring. He sounded sleepy. "I need you to look at something," I said, my voice tight, blood boiling. "A symbol. I’m sending it now." I hit send. A moment later, I heard Damian’s sharp intake of breath. "Where did you find this?" "On a dead man's computer. It’s the Sinner’s signature."

He came for a kill, and by the way he regards Sin with empty, soulless eyes, I understand who he wishes to bury under. No. A quiet sob escapes me and yank my hand from Sin's hold, pushing him back with enough strength to have him stagger. "You need to leave. Now! He's going to kill you!" Sin monitors the space between Alaric's men and us, crossing the distance between me and him again. "Dane and the rest will be here soon. I can hold my own against--" A rifle goes off. Sinclair jerks, a violent tremor ripping through him as the bullet finds its mark in his shoulder. I feel pain. I think I might be screaming, because another rifle goes off and he jerks again, roaring.

“Before anything happens… what’s your name, little thief?” Shania swallowed hard, lips parting under his thumb. “Shania,” she whispered, voice breathy. “My name is Shania.” A low, approving rumble vibrated from the chest behind her. The twin in front smiled—slow, filthy, and full of dark promise. “I’m Damian,” he said, thumb pressing just inside her lower lip for a moment, letting her taste the salt of his skin. “And this is my brother, Killian.”

“I've said it before: I don’t play. I move.” He leaned in, forehead resting against hers. “You scare me sometimes.” “Good,” she whispered. “That’s how you know it’s real.” For a heartbeat, they stood there suspended in that half-light—two bloodlines, two wrong decisions, two people who had already lost too much pretending they hadn’t. She pressed her palms to his chest. “You still smell like smoke,” she said. “You smell like sin,” he answered. The laugh that left her was part exhale, part confession. “And what does sin smell like?”