Novel & Cerita Death's Daughter

The business man; his birth, his daughter’s birth, his daughter’s death and his wife’s suicide. They all ignored my presence, not knowing I was there. Not knowing a thing about me. But I knew everything about them, their dreams, their fears, their thoughts. Until it started building up, it led to a crescendo that I was powerless to stop. So, I screamed letting my voice fill all the cracks of all the pain I felt. Then it stopped. The voices, the memories they all stopped. And then I heard a faint voice. “Sorry. If I could just get this for my daughter.” I would recognize that voice from anywhere.

I saw the muscle of her jaw tighten before she looked back at me, something so different took over her eyes, and at the moment I wasn't sure if it's strength or denial. "Who did this?" She asked, her voice hard and anger dripped within her words. Confusion left me in a low, "What?" Her gaze flicked between Roman and I, "Who did this? That man was going to kill me. If it's not Nikolas, then who?" She was oddly calm about her father's death. This cannot be good. I swallowed and gave her the answer, "My father."

“Caelum. Seraphina was never trying to cleanse Nia of any curse. She burned our daughter alive.” “Nia’s ashes are in that urn, right now. You can take them and verify.” His face went dark all the way through before I could even finish. “Even now,” he said, the rage a low hum in his throat. “Even now you’re saying this. Don’t you have the slightest hope for our daughter? Do you really want her dead?” “She really is dead. You have to listen to me,” I tried to say. He waved his hand, and a wall of force lifted me off the ground and slammed me back against the temple’s stone pillar. Blood came up out of my mouth, and I crumpled at the foot of the steps with half my body gone numb.

She agrees as she says. “Where should I be?” With a sinister smile that shows His victory towards His daughter who will do everything for this time and her very wish. He giggles as He snaps His finger opening the gate and whispering to the world. “The Call of Death.” Just then a scream echoes. “WILL YOU JUST DIE?” With pure horror and worse than any other tragedy that anyone could ever experience. The trembling little girl that’s down unto the dirt and grasses are all in wide eyes upon witnessing firsthand the death and fall of her loved ones.

It is about to crystallize and make it clear to all of them, “She is nicknamed the Daughter of the Sun.” Shocked murmurs came at the name of their King, Daughter of the Sun! One of the legends of the ancients, they hear tales about which it is not known whether they are true or not. The daughter of the sun, which is a miniature sun that walks over the earth, has supernatural abilities to erase the impact of every area it enters, burn it to nothingness, concealing its trace, destroying any kind of witnesses that can tell about it. They say she lives alone without a partner in the lonely mountains until she dies,

"This place... It's saturated with grievance. Someone died badly." "Stop acting!" Dad barked, trying to wave him off. The necromancer had already fallen into a trance, his eyes turning white. When he spoke, it wasn't his voice at all. "Dad... Why... I'm your daughter..." Everyone froze, because it was my voice. "It hurts... It burns... The silver is boiling my blood... Dad, please, help me..." He dropped to his knees and clawed at his throat like he was being strangled. "Please let me out... I'm dying..."

Dull, flickering, but alive. “Valentina,” he rasped, voice scraping like rust on steel. “My daughter returns to her graveyard.” I bowed, the motion both reverent and defiant. “You’re not dead, Father. I see. That's dedication.” He laughed, a sound that rattled the air and stirred the torches. “No, I would never. I would still be here until the last fresh rot my darling. Death refuses me, he hasn't visited ever since. . The witch made sure of that.”

Right in front of everyone, he pulled a thick stack of papers from his bag and hurled them into the air. My medical records. Screenshots of Maya switching the cookies. Photos of me writhing on the floor before I died. "Look at them!" Dad's voice cracked. "Look at how this so-called micro-expression expert killed her own daughter, one step at a time! "She mistook her daughter's medical symptoms for lies! She watched her daughter suffocate on the security cameras while she was out enjoying a concert and a fancy dinner! "And look at the daughter she raised! A ten-year-old who figured out how to kill without leaving a trace—and make herself look like the victim!"

“What choice?” Death pointed toward the horizon. A massive black door had appeared. Behind it millions of souls were screaming. Death whispered: “Death is coming back.” The door opened. Something stepped through. It wasn’t Death. It wasn’t a god. It wasn’t a monster. It was a woman wearing a crown made of bones. She looked at Sophia. Then at Seraphina. Then at Lucien. And smiled. “You took my kingdom.” Death stepped backward. “Mother” Sophia froze.

“Mother!” “L—Lillith,” the woman in bed says softly, and I can hear the rattle worsening. “My love, my firstborn.” Our daughter threw herself beside the bed, tears spilling from her eyes. “Mother, I’m here. I’m here.” My eyes close when I hear the final gasp. Death lowers the curtain, taking away the woman who has been in my every breath for as long as I remember. I hear my daughter’s sobs, but tears no longer come to me. The hand I’m still holding is growing cold, limp now. I tear my gaze away from the figure still on the bed and look at the portrait hanging on the wall, just behind the bed.