Kaleidoscope Of Death Novel Novels & Stories

⸻ “You’ve finally come back…” A long silence followed. Then the sleeping man slowly opened his eyes. They were the same impossible crimson that had appeared in Alessio’s visions. He smiled faintly. ⸻ “Now…” ”…it’s time to remember why you chose to die.” End of Chapter 15

Emily stared. "I don't remember them." You weren't supposed to. One mirror suddenly shattered. Emily saw herself standing beside Kael. Another shattered. She was fighting him. Another. She was kissing him. Another. She was stabbing him. Emily backed away. "No." Another mirror shattered. Kael was dead. Emily screamed. "STOP!" The mirrors continued breaking. Hundreds. Thousands. Every lifetime. Every ending. Every beginning. She saw herself finding Kael. Loving him. Losing him.

Evan smiled, and before anyone could anticipate it, he used the scalpel to stab himself in the heart. Standing beside Evan, I screamed and cried. Countless people walked through me to try and save Evan. Alas, he was indeed an exceptional medical examiner. He knew the fastest way to die. Evan's body continued to twitch slightly. In his final moment, I saw him pointing toward me with his finger. He seemed to have spotted me. Smiling, he closed his eyes, putting an end to the last of his lingering attachment to this world. The situation descended into chaos as another medical examiner shook his head, signifying to Henry that Evan was dead.

Alpha Lackan felt like his lifespan was decreasing just by talking with Kaleid. Kaleid sneered. “You should have killed me back when I was still a child. After all, I was no different from being dead that time.” Alpha Lackan clicked his tongue as he puffed from anger. He rubbed his temples, trying to calm himself from his anger, otherwise he might be the first who would die due to high blood pressure. “You were too lucky to be alive until now.” Kaleid chuckled. “You don't have to try and hide it from me that you didn't send someone to kill me. I have known about it all along.”

Something I don't have a word for. She reads back over the entry. Six deaths. Or what feel like deaths. What her body insists are deaths, in the way that only truth insists — with the particular, unmistakable weight of something that happened rather than something imagined. She has categorized the patterns. She does this because pattern recognition is productive and grief is not. The deaths are spread across contexts that suggest entirely different worlds — different power systems, different architectural styles, different social structures. The snow-landscape death suggests a military empire, based on the dress she sometimes glimpses in the fragments, the elaborate formal setting. The cliff

I just pray Odette doesn’t come to that conclusion or she will only be too willing to have Ataz hold me down whilst she feasts on me. I shudder. There was nothing in any of the books I read to suggest that would even be an option. Unless I can make this bargain with the moon goddess, I don’t know what else I can do. I can feel the dark magic crackle in the air as Cal manages to shift back to himself. I crouch on the ground, looking so broken and defeated as he looks at the array of dead bodies. All those poor rogues killed when they weren’t responsible for any of this. He lets out a sigh, waving his hand as his magic slowly removes them all one by one until only the stains of blood mar the g

The man who had killed me had ensured my silence, and I knew that I had to maintain the facade, no matter how desperate I was to confide in Raphael. As the night wore on, I found myself grappling with a strange, morbid fascination with my newfound state. Being dead was a surreal experience, and yet, I couldn't deny the thrill of possessing dark, otherworldly power. It was a twisted, alluring sensation, one that I knew I should fear, but couldn't help feeling drawn to.

Yeah everything looks all pristine and innocent during the day, but night time around the packhouse can be pretty fucking terrifying. And I’m the reaper himself. I have fourteen dead flies on my legs. Insects, yes, and definitely not sexy looking. But symbols of the males that tried to take me down and fuckin’ failed. But I know better than anyone, even my wolf… Flyers don’t live forever. We do our part to make this world a better place and try to leave it for those after us to prosper. Doze shakes his head and before he speaks, I already know why he’s pissed.

Intense. Real. An affliction with no antidote. Because no pain can come equally to what I felt at that moment, how it was all ripped away from me when I saw life ever so slowly leave his eye; nothing can take away the vision of him as he slipped away from me. It doesn't matter which way you slice it, look at it or analyze it. It'll always come up with the same sum... same fact, that he is dead. And the man who killed him is still out there. Still breathing, alive and planning more ruin.

"I'm sorry. I was too weak. I couldn't admit that Mom died because of the revenge they took on me." Hearing that, I finally felt a sense of relief. It turned out that Zack wasn't perfect at all. And maybe, I didn't need him at all. As I came to this realization, my soul turned transparent and began to fade away. Zack panicked instantly. He desperately tried to hold onto me, but it was no use. Before my last trace of consciousness faded away, I said, "Let's not meet again in our next life, Zack."