Novel & Cerita Out Of Sight Novel

Hello readers, I'm sorry for the long break. I didn't really know this book was garnering views. If I get enough views on this update i will continue. Let me know if you'd like me to continue the eyes that watched or start a fresh werewolf romance

The Seer must mean someone else. The Seer looked around the room. She knew who the traitor, or rather traitors were. She saw what was to come. She said nothing. She had long grown tired of the council and their ridiculous ways. Upstanding specimens they had called themselves, self righteous and indignant. Among them only two were worthy of such a title, the rest were charlatans. It was of no matter the end was near, she has for seen it centuries ago....it was then she lost her eye. She was blinded for telling the then king of the vampires he was not of royal blood. The bastard. He blinded her to prevent her from 'seeing'. Such a fool, the gift of sight was from the mind and the spirit realm.

Susan 's POV: Startled by the vivid dream, I'm abruptly jolted awake. The dampness between my legs serves as a tangible reminder of how my body responds to these forbidden fantasies. I can't shake his face from my mind—those captivating eyes, those lips that brought both pleasures and torment to my senses. "This is sheer madness," I whisper in despair, seeking solace in reciting the Lord's prayer. Waking up repeatedly due to these haunting dreams has become exhausting, and I long for a reprieve.

**Secrets in the Shadows** Sophia sat by the window, staring out into the distance as the evening sun dipped below the horizon. She held the journal tightly in her lap, its worn cover whispering of untold mysteries and forgotten truths. The room was silent, save for the gentle ticking of the old grandfather clock that had stood in the corner of the room for generations. Her thoughts swirled with Eleanor’s cryptic warnings, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that they were stepping into something far beyond what they had ever imagined.

Amaya followed her after glaring at me critically as if giving a warning with her gaze. I crawled to the bed and laid on the upper bunker, feeling my belly burning with pain. Loud noises which sounded like the prisoners were arguing couldn't allow me to focus. Soon I started hearing the sound of breaking glasses and the turmoil increased. I crawled out of the bed and walked outside, gripping the iron railings the edge because the prison is on the top of the restaurant. I looked down to see two female prisoners fighting with people gathered around them, chanting; “Kill her!! Kill her!! Kill her!!"

I suppose given time their colors would possibly show but until then I will attempt to believe that this Cyrus guy was decent. I set my apartment keys on the kitchen table and hoped that Jem wasn’t going to move them by morning. Why was my life so strange and complicated when it came to the paranormal shit? Why did this happen to me? Of all people, why me? I hardly had any friends to really enjoy a decent day with and when I told them about my ability to “See” the other side. They ended up never speaking to me ever again. It hurt but like all other things I moved on. I hated being alone in all this and not having somebody to talk to about these strange and weird situations. To have someone r

"Your piddler's shaping up into a proper beast out there, Nora. Looks like we're heading for a blindie." He pulls off his balaclava, revealing his short brown hair, flecked with grey, which is now flattened at the crown. He gives it a quick ruffle, taming some of the unruly tufts. I stiffen at the word. Blindie. A zero-visibility whiteout so volatile, it would render leaving the outpost an impossibility for hours, if not days. Outposts saw a handful each year, but I hadn't expected to run straight into one on my first expedition.

THE UNSEEN HUSBAND Sebastian found the journal by accident. It was three days after the confrontation with Helena, and he'd been looking for a book to read to the children before bed. Alessia had mentioned keeping some books in the chest by the window, so he'd opened it without thinking. Inside, beneath a few worn volumes, was a leather-bound journal. He almost closed the chest immediately—it was clearly private, clearly Alessia's—but the page it was open to caught his eye. Not because of nosiness, but because of the handwriting. The same careful script from the letters Helena had intercepted, but this time formed into poetry.

Hearing your thoughts and seeing what you can see… What's the difference? I did not reply. I merely showed her what the difference was. In front of Snowie's stunned gaze, I thrust my finger into my right eye and forcibly plucked my eyeball out. Of course, there would not be blood or gore. After all, my right eye was a prosthetic.