Eye Of The Soul Novels & Stories

I sat in my room for three days. Not dramatically. I attended to my duties — the morning cleaning rotation, the evening meal service, the geomun'go practice that Mistress Hana insisted upon regardless of scheduling or emotional state. I did these things. I did them correctly. I did them without letting anything show on my face, which was not difficult because I had been trained since childhood to perform tasks without letting things show on my face. Between duties, she sat on my sleeping mat and thought. Soul Sight activates upon soulbound recognition, I had read, in the texts. The connection, once formed, cannot be unformed. The soul recognizes what it has always been bound to.

She spun and ran. Inside, Dorian and Kai had just reached Elias when Kairis burst in, panting. “It’s The Eye.” Lucian’s head snapped toward her. “What?” Kairis’s voice was grim. “The Eye… He’s been unsealed.” “The Eye of What?” Dorian frowned, confused. “Some ancient relic? A weapon?” Kairis shook her head. “No. Not a weapon. Not a being. The Eye was a god. A brutal, sadistic god. Not even bound by any order—neither Void nor Light. He devoured realms for sport. He watched creation burn and called it beauty.”

“Our souls don’t break.” “What?” I scoff, “What the hell are you talking about? You have made it quite clear that they do. You have said that too many cracks can tear someone apart, like what almost happened to Neah.” “Hunters,” he sighs. “A Hunter’s soul doesn’t break.” “How is that even possible?” “It’s the way we are born. Maybe it is why I can see souls so well,” he shrugs. I look over at his glass. He has only had a tiny bit of brandy and slowly swills the liquid around the glass.

She will become a prisoner in a place she would've used to call 'Home'. I recall the look in her big azure eyes. Eyes so full of life and mystery. Like the sea, calm and beautiful but deep and treacherous. Swirling with colour. But beauty is just an outta shell, she is wicked within. They all are! But that expression comes to mind, "the eyes are the windows to the soul." If that even rings the slightest bit true, could she be an exception? No, she can't be. Even if she was it would not change anything now would it? 'why am I even considering this??' she will fade away and wilt like a flower one day, her beauty will not even last. 'unless I make it last?' but why would I?

My eyes lowered but turned away quickly because I accidentally glanced over his male thing. I couldn’t believe I had it inside me a moment ago. A scoff from him told me he observed my reaction. “It’s alright, you can see it, it won’t hurt you either,” He leaned in to leave a peck on my swollen lips. I didn’t know what made my eyes turn toward him, but this time I gazed at him to spot the insides of his soul, the secrets he held within them. People said I was good at reading eyes and I never disagreed with them. I was not only an eyes-reading but also the mind. But his soul seemed empty as if everything was dark. His eyes screamed of nothing. He was a wallow soul, and I wondered why.

I open my eyes, and bring out the Eye of the Reaper, which represents the watchful gaze of Death, symbolizing my ability to see and interact with the realm of the deceased, but nothing happens again. I stifle my frustration, but a scream breaks from me as I chant

I also made an effort to listen to Madeline’s thoughts, putting myself in her shoes and trying to understand her perspective. Their lives began to improve, and they often shared stories about the friends they made at school. They became close companions as they learned from each other. Together, they succeeded in getting into prestigious universities. I watched them smile often and I quietly exhaled with relief. As I became more empathetic, I no longer blamed others for my suffering. Slowly, my business began to flourish. The soul swap was perhaps a gift from the heavens. It not only saved Madeline but also rescued me from becoming someone increasingly arrogant and self-centered.

I close my eyes shut and open them. Dora's eyes filled with tears, she slowly kneels in the middle of the road, there was still a little black stain on the ground from the accident, she uses her shaky hands to touch it "I don't want to believe you're the one who's gone". I walk close to her and place my hands on her shoulder "soon everything will be revealed" my eyes suddenly caught something, it was an old man with a homeless look, sited in a small wooden caravan, selling some very cheap fake jewellery.

The only other thing that felt as ridiculous as that to me was when Jordan told me, "Josie needs a pair of eyes. Why won't you help her, Hazel?" "Why do you need my corneas for this? What makes her deserve this?" His expression turned ugly when he saw that I was mad. "She doesn't have friends or family, and she's lost her vision at such a young age. What do you expect her to do?" His tone had softened. "You're not the same as her, Hazel. You have me—I'll be your eyes. I'll hire someone to care for you and never leave you." It was mocking to me how serious he looked. "So, her vision matters, but mine doesn't?"