Latifa Spirit Chronicles Novels & Stories

Ren was giving me a disapproving look as he comforted my familiar, who still whimpered and slouched in a sitting position with his ears angled down. WHAT HAVE I DONE!? “Forgive me!” I cried and threw myself at my familiar’s neck. ‘It’s okay, master. I know that I am just your contracted spirit. I shouldn’t have expected anything in return in the first place. I just simply follow orders. I just can’t help it because even though you are lacking in the head, I still waited years for you to come. We spirits are bound to one soul and we cannot age until the right tamer arrives.’ Custard whipped at his face with his paw as if he was whipping a tear.

If that spirit follows me here, what will Euri think? "Wow, that's fantastic..." Nodding amusingly, "Although it is uncomfortable that you can see us, I am grateful that you can see me. I don't have to be alone; it's too lonely for a ghost-like me to be alone." she continued. While she was smiling at me, I could see her relief. "Perhaps he was lonely as well." I thought to myself. After that, I retired to my room to relax. "These humans are foolish," the ghost stated, recalling what he said before jumping off. I'm sure he meant what he said.

"The festival in the lower square is waiting for the High Archivist's closing remarks." Talia looked up, a worn leather journal resting open on her lap. "I was just rereading the final passages of the chronicles, Aunt Luna. Every time I read how Grandmother described her transition from a discarded captive to a protector of creation, it feels like I am reading a blueprint for the human spirit. It’s a reminder that no matter how dark the night, the sun will always rise again."

Maybe she was mourning someone too. Cielo sat on one end of the long bench at the city park. She was dressed in a black long skirt and a black shawl that covered her face. This was her normal dress code for this day. On this day, every year, she came to the city park on her mother's birthday to mourn and make promises to her. The ritual began the year she turned sixteen and had so far gone on for eight years now. Every day for the past seven years, she was always the only one sitting on this bench, but today it seemed like she had a guest, or rather, she was the guest. She didn't pay attention to the man on the other side but instead started growing seeds for the pigeons who flew closer. She

When she pulled away, I was a bit dishevelled. “What is this new spirit festival? I never heard of it when I came to visit here as a kid.” Damien asked. “Oh, it’s a very rare occasion. It only happens once every decade,” William informed me, and I was still confused. “Why? What is so special about it?” I asked, and Courtney’s gaze locked with mine. “It says that once every ten years, spirits pass through the hearts of every occupant in this village; they awaken their true emotions, and trust me, it is never pretty.”

He checked the amount and value of the recent harvest from the wasteland that was stated in the ledger. The yearly cross-house tournament was coming, and house Valentino had to offer their share of resources that would be used as part of the reward to give to the Victors. Rufus Valentino rubbed his forehead as he laid his back on the chair made from agar wood . Vampires don't really get tired, but they sure as hell aren't immune to frustration. "I should have a damn secretary for these stuffs" count Rufus muttered with exasperation in his tone.

I breathed a sigh of relief when it got further away from me. Lantern Loiterings are bad spirits born from regrets; if you faced it, it would swallow your soul turning it into fireflies imprisoned in its lantern. You can’t mess with the dead. I climbed a tall tree and made myself comfortable on a branch. I missed my bed, next to my sister.

A sharp voice exploded inside my mind, a voice I had never heard before. “He carries the blood of our enemies.” My wolf? I stumbled back in horror. Impossible. After twenty years of silence, my wolf had finally spoken, and it recognized him. Ronan's expression darkened as I stared at him in confusion. “Seraphina,” he said slowly. “What exactly are you?”

Cara and Clint both looked stunned. “Yes.” They say in unison. “That is also from Bellona’s line.” He stands and goes to a shelf gathering three large tomes. He brings them to the table and sets them in front of Clint. “These are the chronicles of your wolf’s Guardian spirit for the first four generations.”