Lingering Soul Novels & Stories

I hadn’t washed it yet. However, when I examined the collar, my fingers paused. The button was loose. The thread looked new, like it had been forcibly pulled. I crouched down and opened the shoe cabinet. My pair of hospital slippers sat neatly inside. The soles were clean. I remembered clearly that the last time I wore them, there had been a faint yellowish stain from disinfectant. Now, the soles were gray-white, as if someone had deliberately scrubbed them clean. My breathing tightened slightly, but my expression didn’t change.

The Soulbind pulses inside us— half-finished. Half-claimed. Half-born. And the next breath I take tastes like a prophecy awakening.

It hurt and comforted me—a memory of what I was, or what I remained to be somehow, in some hidden core of self. I fought on against the other fog of despair and tried to sit up and see. The room was an expensive education in contrast: beautiful porcelain vases on the mantel, and black velvet drapes which concealed secrets cast into shadow. All a promise of a life I am now to lead—a life not built of me, but one which I can still take by choice.

That damned poem, that annoying Monk Deva Pran’s gift… …But hearing her now, her voice low and steady— I knew this was no theater. “Breathe like a flame that remembers its fire, Still as the root that outlasts the spire. Unhook the weight where memory clings, Let silence unfold your spirit’s wings. The soul is a shadow that longs to roam, Follow the pulse that calls you home. Rise on wings to claim the throne, Or let your spirit cling to bone.” She wasn’t reciting, she was becoming.

The ground trembled beneath Asha as she struggled to rise to her feet. Her breath came in sharp, painful gasps, her body drained from the immense effort of unleashing the Soulbone’s power. The air around her still hummed with the residual magic, a tremor of energy that seemed to pulse from the very heart of the Spire. She could feel it deep inside her, the echoes of the Ancestral Spirits and the remnants of the Blood Pact, still struggling to cling to existence.

“This is ridiculous.” But it isn’t. It’s very real. And it’s going to get worse. Because now— Now I understand what this means. The craving. The pull. The way my body reacts when he’s close. It’s not just attraction. It’s not just the mate bond. It’s this. The soul bind. Demanding completion. Demanding that I act on it. Demanding that I stop resisting. A humorless laugh escapes me as I drag a hand through my damp hair, shaking my head slightly.

Just then, Ava began to sing. “ The flows of furnace kissed my being, it is now an addiction, I lay in one with its heat, burning my soul, a mystical fascination, a thread of connection, I remain in solitude on planet Saturn. Cremation, combustion, soul ignition. Am I melting? Am I scorching? it's advisable to not come near me, they cannot tame the flame, they will not change the game. Renamed In a distance turn, watch me plunder in distortion, fiercely under inferno's gun, wondrous wonder in planet Saturn. “

Oh my beloved, now I can trust that admiration is not a mirage. Thanks for giving me the sight of God's most beautiful creation. Which retainer needs to attend a crusade if they get your accommodation. My colorless life is now fully colored, more than the rainbow. The meaningless soul is expected to be this divine soul's shadow. After being feast on those eyes, my existence is triumphant now. Realm of beauty, I want to present myself to you as a bestow. <><><><><><><> Hello readers, Welcome to my first book 'Soul'

He wanted to study you but he realized that my wolf blood was beginning to devour your muscles and that you would not last long, so he had to use this method to keep you alive until he found a way to stabilize you- -And that method he found years later- The wolf nodded and licked his face. The images ran where they only saw silhouettes walking, darkness of the dark room for a long time, the new machinery that was put in, new personnel until reaching a moment the closest to the update where the capsule was melting leaving it in view with the same age at which it had been frozen.

” he asked and turned on the radio before I could reply. let my baby stay by Mac DeMarco. It was the same song he played when we went hiking on Monday. Our song. So we sang along as he drove, and my mind drifted back to Monday. Before the blood moon. Before the chaos and deaths. Before the walls of my life crumbled. Many things happened before the blood moon. And the days went by too quickly. But the days after the blood moon moved slowly. It was still the second day, but I felt depleted as someone who mourned for a year.