Palm Reading Mounts Novels & Stories

As he sat cross-legged in the training room, he focused his attention onto the Sky-Soil Zenith. The palm-sized mountain exuded a surging aura that brimmed with the rich power of the scriptures of philosophy. It was almost as if it formed a small world of its own. Though it looks small, the pressure that it would produce upon use could encompass several hundred miles, transforming into an ancient sacred mountain that would descend from the heavens above. Its boundless energy could bring instant death to any supreme saint.

About a quarter of the way through my chant, I take off the pendulum from my neck and hold it over the map. The pendulum begins to sway gently, guided by the energy of the chant and the items. As my chant grows more intense, the pendulum moves with greater purpose, tracing invisible lines across the map. The tension in the room is palpable, each of us holding our breath, awaiting the revelation of the location.

Edward looked up at the red-faced bodyguard in front of him. "Actually, it's not a big deal...... It's ......" The little bodyguard seemed to be difficult to speak, but under Edward's inquiring eyes, he still mustered up the courage to speak: "Mr. Martel, I heard that you can read palmistry, if you have time, can you help me take a look?"

Outside it, they saw a stone tablet with a word engraved on it—Martialis. Perthacus led them into an area where Mount Martialis was located. Then, he pulled out a few tokens, tossed them over, and said, “Here are tokens for elders. Each of them corresponds to a certain spiritual mountain. You can sense the location of the spiritual mountain by holding it.”

I explained. I stepped forward and placed my hand on a glass plate. A thin beam of blue light swept across my skin. Even the King shifted his weight, his eyes widening slightly at the speed of the interface. "Full palm reading," I noted as the doors slid open. "Biometric encryption that resets every six hours."

Once she’s seated, she looks up at me, her eyes steady but unreadable. “Let’s get this over with,” she says simply, her voice cool and detached. Alvera nods, flipping the book open to a page filled with dense text and intricate diagrams. “Okay, so the rune on her palm has to be pressed against the surface here,” she says, pointing to a smooth slab of stone we’ve placed on the table. “It’ll illuminate if everything’s set up correctly.” “If it doesn’t?” Ryder asks, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

I say, "I am not even sure what a life reading is." "I examine your past lives if you have any. Sometimes, I talk about the current life you're in. It depends on what the spirits want you to know," Esmeralda explains as she lights sage to cleanse the room, "I do this using the crystal ball, tarot, palm, and rune reading." "Okay," I say, the anxiety becoming so severe bile is starting to rise in my throat. A persistent throb started to form behind my eyes, similar to what happened at the theater but less urgent and demanding.

I nearly jumped out my own skin. It's probably a magic trick. Relax... Her techniques were rather unorthodox. That or I really knew nothing about reading. "Why only personal belongings?"I asked curiously. "They mess with my magic. It confuses your fate with theirs." " Your magic? Magic isn't real." "Not for all of us. Magic is everywhere, darling, just in different quantities. Questions later, let's continue. The palm reading first." She pulled something out of her pocket. I was expecting something like a dragon's tooth but instead it was a small bottle of hand sanitizer. She rubbed some on her hands.``You wouldn't believe where I was just ten minutes ago."

Please put your hand with the Berry Bracelet 300 to the bathroom mirror. Nate does as he’s told, pressing his palm flat against the surface, instinctively and without expecting anything. To his amazement, the portion of the mirror that he’s touching becomes non-reflective and transforms into a computer display. Numerical readouts, indicators and multi-colored icons radiate out of his palm and fingers and cover an ever-widening area of the large and contiguous mirrors. “Whoa,” he mumbles, reflexively removing his hand and staring at his palm blankly.

He saw the subtle shift in his posture, the brief uncoiling of the tension that always seemed to grip him. And then, Lynn stopped in front of a smaller, quieter painting. It was a landscape, not abstract, depicting a lone tree on a windswept hill under a vast, melancholic sky. Something about it seemed to resonate deeply with him. He stood there for a long time, perfectly still. The guard with the camera moved slightly closer, zooming in. On the high-resolution screen, Caius saw it clearly: the sheen of unshed tears in Lynn's eyes, the way he quickly blinked them away, his throat working as he swallowed hard.