Mystic Eyes Of Death Perception Novelas e Histórias

I lifted my head to look at him and my eyes widened when it landed on his face. His eyes... His green eyes... green like an emerald. I gasped when realization dawned upon me. "Finally, I was able to connect with you." He said while looking straight at me, his voice was echoing in this dark void. My lips parted with shock. My mind can’t seem to process what the heck is going on. I can’t move any part of my body. I feel like I’m frozen like a statue, even my eyes were locked on his. What am I exactly seeing right now?

It's eyes are like blood, if it where a were I would have been tempted to slit it's throat and have a drink with just those eyes alone, it does not seem to have speech or understanding, luckily for me my pack and I have affliation with witches and I was blessed or cursed if you so will by one with the ability to see peoples memories and inner most secrets, all I need to do was stare into their eyes and I'd find whatever it is I need, the best part is they don't even know that I'm doing it. (( Hold it steady for me, I need to have a peek at its memories )) [[ YES SIR ]] they tighten the ropes around it and take a hold of it's head and hold it steady for me to look into its eyes. I watched, se

He held a vicious glint and blood lust while hers, terror. Green against the grey. And just like that his eyes held hers and stared into her green eyes. He goes blank as he looked at the teen in his arm. Her teary eyes looked into his as if she had accepted her fate. His grey eyes widened slightly, clearly mesmerized by the beauty of her green orbs. His eyes make a quick assessment of her face. Tiny freckles scattered all over her nose and by its sides. Those small brown dots on her face looked clear as fresh tears kept constantly rolling down her face. Her cheeks flushed and red. She had a small pointy nose.

My eyes begin to water but I do not know whether it is from grief or from the revelation. “But I'm not her child. I'm not my parent's biological child,” I whisper, “When mother…no when Helen told me this, a black mist suddenly appeared and strangled her. It…it killed her…” The tears spill and drop into the bed and I cover my face with my palms. “Black mist?” It is Helios’ turn to be surprised. He grabs my hands and pulls them away from my face and I suddenly realize that my hands are trembling. “I don't know what it is but it felt evil…” It felt more than evil. It was as if the mist itself was the goddess of death.

"But you have to give me something in return." What could it be? I didn't voice that question but he saw it in my eyes, I know. He smirked. For that brief moment, I saw something else flickered in his blazing orbs. Something I never thought I could see in someone's eyes. I saw death. My death.

Unexpectedly or maybe it had been my wishful thinking and helpless plea to the moon goddess to not make him notice me, his eyes fell on me and I stilled. I stilled because they chilled me right from my spine to every other bone in my body. The way his eyes—a sinister sea of obsidian—raked over my body in a raw undefined gaze had me gripping the sheets even tighter. It made me wish that the sheets would envelope me totally, swallow me whole and take me far away from the man whose eyes were set on me. It felt like I was bared to them even when I was fully clothed. His eyes were a sea that had not even an expression inside of them and when I thought I saw a switch inside of them for a second, i

Alpha Hercule frowned, “Gertrude said—” “Hell with what the witch says. It's Vesper we are talking about. A girl with black obsidian eyes. A person who stared at the face of death and became Death herself. Legend says creatures with such eyes don’t have a heart. Like the troll—” He stopped mid-sentence. He gasped. “Smell of murder, death, and sweet candy that’s Vesper’s scent.” “Yes…” Alpha Hercule replied in puzzlement. “That means it was Vesper who killed that troll.” Alpha Cain stated. “That troll was turned to shreds—”

But that wasn’t what made my chest seize. It was the eyes. Golden-white. Cracked with shadow. Pupils shaped like a sunburst surrounded by obsidian halos. I knew those eyes. I’d worn them before—on battlefields that no longer existed. The goddess. The executioner. The one who had kissed death and made him beg. She stared out at me through my own reflection was calm. And then she smiled. I stumbled back, bile rising in my throat. This wasn’t just a tether anymore.

Blood bubbles out of the corner of his mouth as he sputters out his dying breaths. Suddenly, his eyes glaze over—but it is not the glaze of death . . . no, this is something . . . different. Trust me, I’ve seen the ‘glaze of death’ enough times to be able to recognize it. There is still consciousness in his eyes—probably more consciousness than there had been moments before—but now there’s something of a distant, crazed glint to his glare. More intent, more focused. If I believed in Voodoo magic, the combination of this horrifying glare and his bloody visage would make me think he’d turned into a zombie.

I open my eyes, and bring out the Eye of the Reaper, which represents the watchful gaze of Death, symbolizing my ability to see and interact with the realm of the deceased, but nothing happens again. I stifle my frustration, but a scream breaks from me as I chant