Healing Souls Novels & Stories

It wasn't about hoarding power or hiding behind impenetrable shields of glass; it was about standing as a bedrock for the vulnerable, serving the earth, and breaking one's own bones to ensure the survival of the collective whole. As the pure, healthy, and restored energy of the Glen flooded back into the soil and rushed through the air, it didn't just heal Navarien’s physical body on the balcony outside. The vibrant emerald-and-gold ether seeped deep into the spiritual plain, flowing into the dark corners of Navarien’s consciousness where Malakai's soul rested. The toxic, jagged ambition that had warped Malakai's spirit for decades began to melt away under the warm tide of the forest's true

"If I stop... he takes the world! I have to... heal the dark!" "It's... too deep..." Ash wheezed, his hand coming up to cover hers on his chest. He wasn't trying to pull her away anymore; he was trying to steady her. "He’s... part of the soul now..." "Then I’ll heal the soul too!" Rhea roared.

“If… if he took my mom’s and my sister’s souls…” Hope rose before I could stop it. “Does that mean they can come back?” I asked quickly, my eyes searching through the glowing figures. “Does that mean I can see them again? Does that mean—” A firm hand landed on my shoulder, I turned. The healer’s expression had softened, but there was something heavy in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said gently. My heart dropped. “That won’t be possible.” The words sank slowly, painfully. “They no longer have bodies,” he continued. “Only their souls remain.”

My heartbeat had not yet steadied and I could still feel my arms vibrate by my side. Today's episode of healing mister Holloway was the scariest I had ever encountered in all my life. Face to face with what could have turned to homicide. I wiped my sweat from my forehead with the back of my palm and headed back to the kitchen. Water, I needed water.

She said earlier, if you don't volunteer, outsiders can't proceed to remove a personality. That's it, don't worry about what to do, it won't help anyway. The demon glared at me, chuckling. My world goes round and round. I don't understand. Really don't understand. Not just saying split half, why is there another personality? - I'm not a personality. Nor is it part of the soul. Resentment in the depths of their consciousness has invited me to come. A deep, melodious voice like an ancient theater song resounded.

“How did I get to Kelvin’s cabin.” “You were losing too much blood,” she said. “So Jacob called the sheriff to meet him at Kelvin’s cabin with a doctor because there was no time to get to the hospital. But by the time the sheriff reached the cabin, the wound had already healed.” “How did my injury heal so fast?” I asked. “They shot me in the damn chest, and I can't even see a scar. How's that even possible?” “Werewolves have enhanced healing abilities,” she said. “That must be why there's no scar on your body.”

"I'll be there in an hour. Any feedback on the Screenwriters Fair? - he asked. God, his obsession with movies and writing movies really is annoying. But I have my own kind of addiction. I stared at the spent beauty on my bed. I fucked her so violently, she passed out. But it felt so good, my dick slowly started to rise again. Although I have to wait a few days before I take her again, she is not a vampire, can't heal that fast. And I won't give her my blood either, or she would be able to fight against me. Witches can heal others. Oh, wait, good witches can heal others, evil ones were capable to heal themselves. But my pussy muffin wouldn't do that, no matter how wildly I push her to her org

“I thought you absorbed their pain.” He shook his head. “That’s not how it works. I can’t explain … when I heal someone, I give them a little bit of myself – it’s like a…psychic connection. It feels like…I tear a piece of my soul off and give it to them, and in return, they give me a bit of their soul – if it's successful, they give me the good part, but if it’s not…I get to have the tortured bit, because it relieves some of their suffering. It heals in time, but when I have to do it repeatedly, like tonight…after a while, our connection was so profound that it felt like we had become one. I had no more good parts to give her, she died afraid…and, because we were so strongly connected, I fel

Wraith Stalkers are masters of stealth and surprise, their forms flickering in and out of existence, leaving trails of icy cold in their wake. Soul Shepherd: A weaker warrior that plays a vital role in supporting its allies. Soul Shepherds draw upon the souls bound to them to heal wounds and bolster the strength of their comrades, a beacon of spectral light amid battle.] "This skill is okay." I chuckled.

"I know who I am. I am Kerik Renfred you wrench! The Queen of all life and dead creatures of the world." "That's not possible-" "I am Kerik Renfred!" My voice grew louder and louder over every word, and my confidence slowly returned back to me. There was no way to survive hell, without taking a piece of it with you. Something only dark souls can understand. "The worst kind of pain, is the one you feel in your soul, it slowly devours everything and weighs you down until you can no longer move. It hurts more than any burn, any scar and any bruise. Because it would never heal, no matter what you do. It's always there inside of you."