Fate Hands Novels & Stories

Dumb right? I bumped into someone when I took the next turn sending their drink flying out of their hand, and all over my shirt. I reached for her hand to hold her steady, she almost slipped. “Oh, my God, you have no idea how sorry I-” The woman did not even let me land. “WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU? CAN’T YOU WATCH WHERE YOU’RE GOING? ARE YOU STUPID, OR DUMB, OR JUST PLAIN BLIND?”

He could make the wolf purr in his hands. Noah was looking at the beautiful face cupped in his hands. He could never get enough looking into those dark black orbs. The rosy red lips. The pale white cheeks that would tint in pink when blushing. The arms that were looped around his shoulder for the support. He moved his hands down from his face to his shoulders, resting a bit at the side of his waist fisting it a bit before slipping his hands down at the shorts on his thighs. He pulled Benjamin to sit in his lap without going out of the pool.

The smile on his face is taunting, allowing me to see that he knows more about me than I do about him. "I see you got my message," he notes, pointing down to the paper I still hold in my hand. A lump gathers in my throat as I glance down at it. I don't think I can handle not knowing anything about this man for another second, especially with the probability of Malik walking back in here being so high. "I've never seen you before," I say slowly. "How did you even manage to get up here?" "Let me firstly introduce myself," he says politely. He holds his hands out, and I see his hands are encased in strange ebony velvet gloves. "I'm known most commonly as Fate."

"Maria, I will avenge you. What he did to you, his wife will face the same. And then I'll ask him to replace her, just like he asked me to and then he'll know that fame means nothing but destruction." Fate sat on the top of a tower and wrote something in her Grecabulum, the book of fate and destiny. Her pen shone light blue as she wrote down the Fate of people. Then, she flew up and reached a balcony. She passed through the closed doors and looked at a new born baby sleeping in a cradle. She touched his hands and the fate lines appeared on his palm. "May you get what you deserve" She smiled and walked out. She flew up and climbed at the terrace of a building. "Let's see, what's next," She lo

I thought I was only reading a novel until I woke up inside it. I wake trapped in the body of Seraphina Vale, a noblewoman whose future I know. In the original story, I am destined to die by the order of Crown Prince Adrian Blackthorne, the man I am supposed to marry. Knowing what awaits me, I decide to change everything. I avoid the events that led to Seraphina’s downfall, determined to survive and find a way back to my own world. But everything changes when Adrian arrives earlier than he should and accuses me of trying to kill him. In his hand is a silver dagger engraved with my name. I know that dagger never existed in the story, and I realize someone is changing the plot. As

“You can’t keep fighting it.” Lilith clenched her fists, her claws slicing small crescent moons into her palms. “I have to fight it. If I don’t—” “You’ll lose control?” Nathan finished, crouching beside her. His crimson eyes were steady, unreadable. “You’re already losing control, Lilith. You just don’t know it.” Her throat tightened. The markings along her back and arms pulsed faintly beneath her skin. Her vision blurred, edges darkening. That gnawing, monstrous hunger whispered at the edges of her mind, urging her to give in.

'These are Demon hands. The old man's face brightened instantly. 'Yes,' he said, happily and seemingly unaware of my horror. 'That's right! You've got it. A gold star for you!' Nodding, almost to himself, he turned and surveyed the row, sweeping his arm out as if presenting the display of severed hands to me. 'Behold the spoils of the Endless War. What you see before you are the hands of every Shedim slain since the time after the Fall.'

The night grows deeper and the only sounds in the room continues to be their contineous moans and groans together with their heavy breaths. At this moment, the only thought running through Zarie's mind is that everything is in the right order for her and nothing can take it from her. Not even death or any other mortal. Hmmm... But no one can dictate what the future holds because the puzzle of fate is surely complicated, more twisted than we can ever imagine. Author’s note; Thank you for reading, stay safe.

"You don’t seem like someone who leaves much to chance." "Normally, I don’t," I admitted. "But sometimes, chance has a way of surprising you." “Interesting,” he mused. “So, Alice… do you believe in fate?” After a brief pause, I replied, “I believe we shape our own destinies. But every now and then, fate might give us a little push.” Our eyes met, and the noise of the restaurant faded into the background. There was an unspoken connection, and I had to remind myself to breathe.

Ignoring the dizzying haze, she stared at her hands with mounting horror. She distinctly recalled her own hands—the scarred, calloused hands of the veteran assassin—being vaporized, shattered into biological mist in the final blast. Yet, the pair before her now were utterly intact. More unsettlingly, they were small. For a woman approaching thirty, who had endured countless years of lethal training, brutal combat, and hardened survival, these hands were a profound, monstrous departure from memory. They were smooth, unblemished, and chillingly delicate. These hands belong to a girl, perhaps fifteen or sixteen.