Old Souls Novels & Stories

“No turning back.” We move forward. The clearing looks exactly as I imagined growing up, though imagining it was something we did to scare ourselves at night. Three willow trees bow toward each other, forming a natural dome. Light doesn’t pass through their branches. The air smells of nightshade, damp earth, and something metallic… magic. And sitting beneath the center tree on twisted roots are the Old Ones. Three of them. Three wolves whose bodies are human but whose eyes carry centuries of knowing. Elder Marrow: the silent one.

And they carried news. "She's building an army," Soren reported, standing before the council. "A fortress of ice in the northern wastes. Thousands of vessels. Thousands of dead-flesh. And something else. Something worse." I felt my blood run cold. "What?" "She's been gathering the souls of the old Council. Not just the ones who created the laws. The ones who were sealed away centuries ago. The ones who were too dangerous to exist." The council murmured. "How many?" Draven asked.

“Like soulmates?” “Something along those lines but not entirely,” I explain as I rack my mind for the best way of explaining this. “When the Goddess is forming a wolf, she splits their soul in two and places the halves between two wolves only to be rejoined later on according to time. They reconnect and the split soul is rejoined and strengthened as they develop their bond.” Iris’s face crumples quickly, confusion clearly rippling from her as she works her mind to pull my words together in a way she could understand. I open my mouth to try it from another angle but she speaks first.

The older boy's smile disappeared. “Because Mother killed me before I could become you.” I grabbed my son's shoulders. “No!” The older version of him looked directly at me. “Do you want to know what really happened in the first universe, Mother?” The doorway widened. Behind him, the silver throne cracked. And I saw what lay beneath it. Millions of imprisoned souls. Every one of them reaching toward me. Every one of them screaming my name. The older version of my son raised his hand. A black flame appeared above his palm.

The ground beneath his feet was smooth, pitch-black glass, reflecting a twisted sky filled with swirling crimson mist. "Trial of the Broken Mind," the Council's cold, disembodied voices echoed through the hollow dark. "To cast aside the mantle of a Reaper, one must cut the ties of memory that bind them. Face your sins, Aidan." Suddenly, the black glass beneath him rippled like water. Out of the shadows emerged a spectral figure—Amara, wearing the blood-stained dress from the night she died centuries ago. Beside her stood Julian, his blade dripping with crimson light.

I felt something restraining me, and there was something stuffed in my mouth. Voices drifted in from outside. "Just dump her here. No one usually comes around." "She's such bad luck. I can't believe she gave out already! I was expecting her to hold out at least a little while longer. What a waste of my prototype. And all the medication too! Ugh. Let's just go, Miles." My eyes stung with tears when I heard their conversation, but I couldn't even cry. What had Miles said before? Didn't he say that I wouldn't die? That he'd take care of me for the rest of my life? And this was how things turned out? How ridiculous!

Not Sarah’s, something older, something worse. Saraphina’s eyes widened. “The Old One stirs, the first, the forgotten god that sleeps beneath this town.” “And now it wants her,” John said. “No,” Saraphina corrected. “It wants you. Through her.”A monstrous howl echoed from the Hollow, deep and endless. It wasn’t just a sound, it was hunger. John staggered back, the dagger glowing in his hand. “You have one chance,” Saraphina said. “Break the bond, kill the vow, or everything ends tonight.”

Maverick’s jaw tightens beside me. “The Moon Goddess only grants the bond under specific conditions,” the Elder says. “Two wolves must lose their fated mates through tragedy. Their souls must remain broken long enough for the bond to awaken.” Jax becomes restless instantly. “Broken souls,” he mutters darkly. “But the bond comes with a price,” Elder Miriam whispers. “Every time it has appeared throughout history… disaster followed.” My heartbeat speeds up painfully. “What kind of disaster?” Maverick asks quietly. The Elder’s expression darkens.

The Silence of the Spire The Origin Tower, once a pulsing heart of the new world, went cold. The data-cells dimmed to a sickly, institutional grey. Below, the "Archived" souls in the Deep-Registry let out a collective, digital moan that vibrated through the soles of the pack's feet.

"To resurrect one who has fallen to mortal wounds but whose essence remains, three offerings must be made. The Mighty Alpha Soul. The Maiden Soul. And the Ancient Wolf Soul." Gray leaned over my shoulder. "Three souls." I kept reading. "The Mighty Alpha Soul must come from a living Alpha of great power. The Maiden Soul must come from one touched by the divine. The Ancient Wolf Soul must come from a wolf who has lived beyond natural years." "They need to kill three specific types of wolves," Gray said. "Yes," I said. My voice was hollow. "And use their souls to resurrect Malachar." I turned the page. There was more.