La Sombra Del Pasado Novels & Stories

Or horror movies, if you’re into them. Yeah, it’s not life, it’s only… existence. Every time I think of her, my heart is squeezing in my ribcage. I put my hand on my chest. Under the thick fabric of my leather jacket, I can still feel the scars. Scars, I hidden under tattoos. My breathing suddenly becomes heavy, when all the shit that happened that time, suddenly pushes through my mind. Memories I thought I hid well and for good, just plaguing my thoughts.

This is the one night which has broken him beyond repair. The memories resurface in his mind. These memories are one of the few which he wants to get rid of so desperately, but it’s like some sticky gum which he cannot get rid of no matter what. These would always find some way to haunt him and come to him to remind him of his past, his identity, his everything which he so desperately wants to erase.

My thoughts were a jumble of resentment and frustration, until I was abruptly pulled back to the present. "The priccce isss high, Massster," The Shadows hissed, their voices like a chilling whisper. "For usss to take thossse memoriesss, we would have to give them to you. He would forget… but you would remember… forever." The Shadows' words slithered through the air, striking me with a sobering realization. I would be the one to bear the weight of Raphael's memories, to hold them captive deep within me. The burden of his past would become mine to carry, a constant reminder of the pain and the trauma that he would never again have to endure.

The sapphire light in her fingertips was a dull, rhythmic throb, a silent warning she couldn't quite interpret. "It looks the same as it always does, Sofia. It just doesn't wash away as easily," Pella whispered, not looking up from the pile of bandages she was sorting. The girl’s Indigo veins were dim, mirroring the exhaustion that had settled over the entire district. "People are talking, Sofia. They say the 'Shadow of the Queen' is back. They say someone is cleaning house for Subject Zero."

The lights of the penthouse flickered as Olivia stepped through the revolving doors, her heels clicking softly against polished marble. Rain streaked down the windows behind her, catching in the city skyline like liquid silver. She paused for a moment, feeling the black ring on her finger pulse, tight and insistent. It reminded her that she wasn’t just here as Olivia Monroe Castillo. She was the Reborn, someone whose past and present had been stitched together by blood, power, and Jessica’s lingering influence.

Amara The rain didn’t stop all night. It battered the villa like the sky was trying to wash it clean - but some stains weren’t meant to fade. Damian and I stood over the folder Caroline left behind. Beside it sat a sleek black drive, no label except one word etched into the casing: TRUTH. It felt heavier than metal. Heavier than the silence stretching between us. “Do you want to see what’s inside?” I asked. His jaw flexed. “No.”

The presence pulsed, its voice whispering through her very bones. "You carry the mark of the past." Lyla’s fingers curled into fists, her crescent-shaped birthmark burning hot. "Who are you?" she demanded. The shadow did not answer. It only whispered, its voice curling through the trees like mist. "The past does not rest. And neither will you." Then It was gone. The weight of its presence vanished, leaving only the wind stirring the leaves. Lyla stood frozen, her pulse pounding. Because she knew, deep in her bones

We are the shadows of age and time, nothing goes on beyond we are not aware of being warned of doom and the day is fast approaching. Your choice determines the future of this pack. See you some other time Luna, it is a pleasure to have known you before your coronation. Your good deeds will indeed be well rewarded’’ Sarah did not understand anything because she was certain time would unravel all. She was more determined never to leave the sight of her mate. ‘’She needs to leave, she can't stay here and he can never mark her. Our mate is waiting and we have already been marked”’ the Shadows tell Sarah who takes a look at the mark by their neck.

It followed like a phantom echo in Kael’s skull, threading through his thoughts, patient and poisonous. By the time they reached the foot of the slope, the world had changed. The once-green pass that separated the northern ranges from the old roads was now nothing but ash and bone. The ground was black, the trees burned into jagged silhouettes. Rivers of molten silver cut through the landscape like scars, flowing uphill, against logic, against gravity. “The Scar,” Lira murmured, her voice barely audible over the low hum that filled the air. “It’s worse than the reports said.”

Angels Perspektive Ein Jahr später … Die Zeit hat meine Wunden noch nicht geheilt. Sie hat mir nur beigebracht, wie man überlebt – egal unter welchen Umständen. Und ich habe es auf die harte Tour gelernt. Die Welt hat nicht auf meine Heilung gewartet. Sie wurde nicht plötzlich freundlich, nur weil ich innerlich verblutete. Jede Nacht wurde ich von Albträumen heimgesucht. Ich schreckte nach Luft ringend aus dem Schlaf hoch, als wäre ich immer noch in diesem Lieferwagen gefangen, als würde ich noch immer die Schüsse hören, die meinen Eltern das Leben genommen hatten.