Death Eater Sign Novels & Stories

My younger sister and I were born twins, yet from the very beginning, our parents had zero fondness for me. My sister was the family's good-luck charm, while I was hailed as the harbinger of misfortune. I was blamed for every calamity, while she got all the credit for every blessing. Even after my death, I heard them say, "If we had abandoned her at birth, or even ended her life then, none of this would have happened." I had once tried desperately to win their approval, only to be met with cold indifference. When I finally secured a coveted civil service post, they celebrated me for the first time in my life. I naively believed that I had been acknowledged at last. But then, they said, "Give your job to your sister. She needs it more." At that moment, something inside me completely died. I tried so hard to cling to the hard-won proof that I was not the family's misfortune, yet even that slipped through my grasp. In the end, I lost everything, even the life they had never once cherished.

I volunteer to be the mate of Carl Wood, the Alpha of the Nightfall pack, as a direct measure to resolve the conflict between our two packs. He marks me on a full moon night. His gaze is so fervent in that moment that I interpret his look as a genuine sign of his attraction. Carl personally leads the elite fighters across the border two years later. He grabs my head, making me witness the gruesome dismantling of my mother, father, and brother by the pack; his gaze is alight with vengeful satisfaction. "Did your father show mercy during our youth when he destroyed my pack, Aria? Do you truly believe that having you here is enough to make up for this vengeance?" Carl assumes the position as the most powerful Alpha of the northern region, with Selena Hall established at his side as his Luna. I am kept barely alive, imprisoned in the depths of the dungeon in the pack. If I attempt to end my life, Carl retrieves the bones of a relative from the cemetery and incinerates them right in front of me, bellowing with bloodshot eyes, "You're not allowed to die unless I allow you to, Aria!" I immediately cease all resistance after that. Carl's heart was pierced by a silver-tipped arrow during his escape years ago. I had to implore the dark witch to use dark magic and substitute my sound heart for his. There are only three days left before the poison completely takes hold of me.

The Luther Pack believed that the mate bond between twin sisters and twin Alphas was the greatest blessing from the Moon Goddess. Up until I was seven months pregnant, I never doubted that belief. Everything changed when I was kidnapped by the Cassa Pack, the Luther Pack’s sworn enemy. Meanwhile, my mate was busy performing a blessing ritual for the pup of his puphood sweetheart. He ignored my eighth attempt at mindlinking him and severed the connection entirely by the ninth. Kaden’s actions enraged the Cassa Pack’s Alpha, who fired rounds of silver-coated bullets into my belly. My wolf howled in agony while my unborn pup was killed instantly. The silver poison destroyed my ability to heal, and the loss of my pup drained me of all will to live. At the brink of death, my sister, Lucia, found me. In a desperate bid to save me, she crashed into my abductors and perished with them in the resulting explosion. I had no time to grieve, nor did I reach out to our mates. Silently, I erased all traces of our existence within the pack and built a grave for Lucia and me in the Dark Forest. I was dying. Once I completed this final task, I could join my sister. Even after my death, our mates assumed we were merely acting out of jealousy. They had no idea that their mates and pup were already six feet underground.

Three years after my death, my wife’s first love was hanging onto life by a thread, and only my system could save him. To force me to show up, she cut off my father’s medical payments. My sick mother was forced to beg her out in the summer heat until she collapsed. She even threw my beloved little sister into a bonfire to be eaten up by the flames. As she waited for me to show up, apologize to her, and use the system to save her first love, my sister finally stopped hiding the truth. “He died three years ago! Three years ago, he traded his life so you would survive that car crash!”

My husband, an Army regimental commander, was killed in action. Before his body was even cold, I didn't hesitate. I filed for his death certificate and notified the Army, the Social Security Administration, and our bank. Then, three days later—on the very day his twin brother married his childhood sweetheart—I moved out, changed the locks, and remarried quietly at the courthouse, taking my son and the full line-of-duty death benefits with me. To everyone else, I was heartless. Cold. I let them curse me. I just looked into my “brother-in-law's” bloodshot eyes and felt a quiet, cruel satisfaction. Only I knew the truth. In my last life, I discovered the body sent home wasn't my husband's at all—it was his identical twin brother's. I ran to confront him, but by chance I overheard him and my mother-in-law whispering. "Mom, Sarah is strong. And we have our son. She'll be okay. The benefits will take care of her. But Amy has waited for my brother all these years. If she finds out he's dead, she might do something drastic." Their words struck me like lightning. I tried to expose them, but my husband knocked me out. He told everyone grief had driven me insane. He locked me in the garage apartment and, with cold detachment, married his sweetheart. And when that woman complained my son was too loud, my husband slipped sleeping pills into our boy's juice—right as my crying child was coming to look for me. My son never woke up. The day they buried him hastily, I ended my life in the garage, utterly broken. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day they delivered my brother-in-law's body to our home.

My sister ate the half plate of mango I had left on the table and broke out in hives from her allergy. My brother stormed over, pried my mouth open, and poured the mango juice straight down my throat. "You love mangoes so much, don't you? Today you'll get your fill." The juice flooded my lungs. I choked, fighting for air as my throat swelled in agony, begging him to save me. Instead, he turned and locked me in the basement. "Betty suffered because of you, so don't expect any comfort. Stay down here and reflect on what you've done. Growing up without any real guidance. No wonder you're so vicious." Two days later, my mom remembered me. "Ralph, that's enough. Let Catherine out. If she stays there much longer, she might start resenting Betty." My dad chimed in casually, "What's the big deal? Just buy her something nice to make up for it." My spirit clung to his back, floating along with them toward the basement. I'd like to see how they were going to compensate a dead girl.

My mom is a retired supermodel. She's added a monitor to the weight scales at home so that she can monitor my and my sister, Abigail Teller's perfect body weight. If my data goes up by 0.1%, Mom will ban me from eating for the next three days. But the thing is, Abigail keeps eating fried chicken every day, yet her monitor's light is always green. Mom claims that Abigail's still going through puberty. I defend myself, saying that I've gained weight because of the bloating caused by my period. As Mom points at the red light emitted by my monitor, she exclaims, "The data is never wrong! If you've gained weight, that means you've been snacking far too much!" After getting punished many times, I begin believing that being fat is a sin. On the night of my 20th birthday, the long-term diet I've been placed on has triggered my kidney failure, which causes me to bloat up everywhere. I kneel on the floor and plead to Mom that I'm seriously ill. But that's when the monitor lets out a shrill alarm. When Mom sees the 5% increase in my body fat data, she puts me through a devillish punishment. I can feel the electric currents jolting through my body. "It's bad enough that you've secretly snacked on cake, but to even lie in my face about your illness? I'd like to see how long you can stay stubborn for!" Having said her piece, Mom locks the door and takes Abigail out to celebrate her birthday. I guess Mom is correct. Monitors never lie. I'm the one who's at the wrong for being a glutton. That's why I've transformed into a monster who doesn't deserve any love at all. I'm sorry, Mom. I'll only drink water in my next life.

At the request of my sister, Wendy Moonveil, the whole family explored the outer woods, only to be attacked by rogues. My fated mate, Allen Sangre, scooped Wendy into his arms and broke through the aggressors. My parents, Terence and Camile Moonveil, dodged the attacks with agility before making a run back to the pack. Terence even found the time to keep the kitten bought recently for Wendy safe in his embrace. That night, they returned and shared their thrilling close call on social media, celebrating their lucky escape from the clutches of vicious rogues. One thing slipped their mind, though. Their delicate Omega was still surrounded by the rogues—alone and without help.

When the college admission notice arrived, I suddenly developed a high fever and was bedridden. My sister encountered a kidnapping on her way to help me collect the notice, and her life was uncertain. My parents hated me deeply. After tearing up my admission notice, they forced me to give up my studies and work in a factory. Later, I experienced a kidnapping as well. After narrowly escaping, I hid in an abandoned factory and sent them a message for help. My dad called me and shouted at me without restraint, “Lena, are you even human? How could you play such a joke on us on Jessica's memorial day!” “Do you have any idea how much your mom and I wished it had been you who died back then?” In my last moments before death, their insults echoed in my ears. I was tortured and killed, turned into a monster, and my body was thrown into a stinking ditch for three full days. Even my father, the most experienced forensic expert, couldn’t recognize me. When my sister returned home with the guy she eloped with years ago, my dad had just restored my appearance through technology. They knelt before my decaying corpse and cried until they fainted.

Five years after my death, my daughter, Emma, dialed Xander Green’s number. She cautiously asked, "Do you like my mom?" She was trying to get an answer to the question I once wrote in my diary. "Xander, do you like me?" Unexpectedly, the voice on the other end sneered, "Did your mom put you up to this? Using her own daughter like a pawn? What an unfaithful woman! She’s already with your dad, yet still trying to rekindle things with me?"