Necklace Urns For Human Ashes Novels & Stories

Everything that usually followed after his victim―the redeemed ones―had taken their last breath was pretty much the same: cleaning the playroom, cremating the body into the retort, and grounding the dried bone fragments in the cremulator. The usual. The cremains then would take permanent residency in his little indoor garden, inside a special urn within a nice ceramic pot where a beautiful English yew would grow on top. Then, he would call it a night, go home, and cap it off with a glass of his favorite red wine. All in a day’s work.

Stella goes quiet, then lays down, a little white circle on the sand, her eyes closed, her tail tucked over her nose. Around her, where there once were bodies of our fallen enemies, there are now small piles of golden ash, still faintly glowing with the starlight energy she called down. Reverently, Layla steps forth and gathers one of the piles in her hand. Arnold appears at her side with a simple ceramic urn, which she gently pours the ashes into. They repeat this process until all the ash piles are gone, and we have a row of little ceramic jars on the sand where the bodies used to lay.

Brynn shrieked, her face twisted with malicious glee. The ashes were cruelly scattered again, floating in the air before settling humbly back onto the ground. It was like all my strength had been sucked out. I couldn't hold myself up anymore and collapsed onto the floor. I looked at the scattered ashes, at Brynn’s face, contorted with jealousy, and at Ryker’s shocked, confused expression. Suddenly, I laughed. A bitter, hopeless laugh. "An urn…" I whispered, my voice barely audible. "In the Howling Moon Pack, a simple stone urn costs three hundred silver wolf coins."

Inside, the walls were adorned with hundreds of small, protected niches, each containing memorials to pack members who had passed before us. Some contained ceremonial urns, others personal belongings, all sacred to the memory of those gone. I led Aurora to the newest niche, placed in a prominent position as befitted the son of the Alpha Heir. The small space contained two intricately carved silver protection amulets with ancient pack runes – identical to those Grace Winters had crafted months ago. Beside them rested a smooth, polished moonstone box.

He was looking if Ophelia is actually telling the truth and not just being petty to insult Wren but he was left stunned. When the video ended, Alexander's voice was low but firm. “This necklace…it’s from the Velouré Noire collection. Only three pieces were made in the world.” His gaze flicked briefly toward Wren, whose face had turned ghostly pale. “Each piece is tracked and registered. It’s not something you can just buy at a boutique or casually pass on like it’s costume jewelry.” Hannah blinked. “Wait…how do you know that?” she asked curiously.

When Hansen saw it, he exclaimed, "That's a Dead Man's Piece!" "Yes!" Landry smiled wryly. "This Dead Man's Piece allows me to avoid ascension!" Hansen lamented, "This type of pendant is only found in mass graves. They are sinister objects that can attract countless spirits of the dead!" Landry said, "Yes! I found this pendant in a mass grave outside of Everpeace City!"

It was a large garbage disposal station. My body had been cremated and turned into a pile of ashes. It was then put into a small pottery jar I had bought earlier. They thought I was unlucky and refused to keep my ashes at the villa. After they discussed it, they decided to throw my remains into the garbage disposal station. The garbage was piled up like a mountain at the disposal station. The stench was overwhelming and unbearable, and it was not easy to find my ashes. No one knew what Nicole was thinking, but she started looking.

Her attitude made many viewers suspect that the streamer and Wanda were more than business partners. After Wanda transferred the ashes to a unique urn, she put the million-dollar dildo inside it. Unlike other urns, London’s urn was created from bulletproof glass. The urn would also be placed in a high-security cemetery. By the time London’s funeral concluded, and the stream ended, Wanda was exhausted. Cleo and the marketing department took care of the pesky reporters while Wanda was chauffeured back to her office. Snapping quickly into work mode without a trace of sorrow from her acting earlier, Wanda asked her trusty familiar where the body was.

My heart raced as we made our way to the grief chamber, and the air thickened with the reality of what we were about to face. As the door creaked open, I saw a haunting sight that almost took my breath away. Dante lay in a golden-looking coffin adorned with white lilies and black and red roses scattered around like fallen soldiers. Flickering candles illuminated the room, their soft glow juxtaposed against the starkness of what lay before us.

“That’s why we drink it. It’s the only way to survive.” Then came the box. Velvet. Small. Black. She set it gently between us, like a priest offering a relic. “I wanted you to have something from my family,” she said softly. “An heirloom. Passed through generations. My mother wore it during her first pregnancy, and my grandmother before her.” I opened it slowly. The necklace was beautiful. Too beautiful. Silver strands woven into delicate chains, six obsidian stones shaped like droplets, each etched with runes. Eastern. Ancient.