Remnant Of The Past Novels & Stories

We were buildin g something… or so it seemed. But the past has a way of clawing back. And this time, it wasn’t going away.

She clutched it tightly. "History repeats itself," she whispered again. "And if I don't stop it now… it will destroy them, too." Outside, the first light of dawn began to break through the clouds. But to Aster, it did not bring hope — only a reminder that the past was never truly gone. It simply waited to be reborn.

I will see the damage I have caused, knowing that there is nothing I could do to make it go away. There is no remedy to the past. Once it is done, it is written and sealed in blood, memory and time. My cousin, Marco said, that the past is that which has happened. No matter how we look back on it, those moments, memories will be an unaltered occurrence, so we best just learn, observe and move on. I scan the room. The thick rumpled grey and white duvet, a reminder of my late night. Fluffy pillows discarded to the floor, in my haste to run to the bathroom.

Chapter 17: The Memory of the Past (part 1) Inside the cold underground prison, Jeremiah was still dreaming a dream about the past that happened thirteen years ago. It was not only one of the happiest moments in his life, but also the most painful one. He wished to erase it from his memory, but he could not. As the memory of the past kept running through his mind, neither he could control it nor to stop it. ***

I wasn’t able to stop them from rolling down my cheeks no matter how hard I tried. “I felt like I was totally incomplete, Liam… that there was a big part of my p-past that no matter what I do, and no matter how I tried, I couldn’t remember it. I already have some puzzle pieces, but I couldn’t solve the whole picture. What if in that part of my life, I became a f-filthy kind of woman who was never meant to be with you? That my past was trapped in a muddy ground that will never reach you?” My voice cracked, and I could not stop myself from sobbing anymore.

The days that followed were marked by a delicate bridge between past and present, as they navigated the uncertain path of healing. Samantha, despite the lingering echoes of the past, found herself drawn to the prospect of rebuilding a connection with her mother. The wounds of abandonment, while not forgotten, began to lose their sharp edges in the face of her mother's sincere efforts. Each shared conversation, each shared laughter, became a small triumph over the years of separation.

However, her face expression just seemed to remain the same as she continued talking. " whatever happened within you guys in the past stays there,leave the past exactly where it should be,you do not have to withdraw you growing for some crazy thing that happened way back in the past. Which he himself may not even remember " she said while taking a stop to look at me,as I guessed what she was trying to do was to access if I what she was saying or I just did not and was just staring at her.

The asking of the actual question when the adults around her are circling it. Damien looks at his younger daughter. "It means the history stops being present," he says. "It happened. It's in the record. It doesn't go away. But it stops requiring active management." He holds her gaze. "It becomes the past tense version of itself." "Past tense," Elise says. "Past tense," he confirms. "What does that feel like?" she says. Damien is quiet for a moment. "I don't know yet," he says honestly. "It just arrived Wednesday. I've been in the present tense of it for so long that the past tense version is — new. I'm still orienting to it." He looks at Aria. "We both are."

Then nothing. The penthouse returned abruptly. The city. The broken glass. The whiskey on the floor. My breathing was slightly uneven. I hated that. Even after all these years. Even now. The memories still found ways to return. I stared at the shattered pieces scattered across the marble. For a long moment, I didn't move. The past had a way of staying exactly where you left it. Waiting. Patient. Ready to remind you why certain mistakes couldn't be repeated. I closed my eyes briefly.

The voice replied, its tone gentle yet profound, "I am a Remnant, a vestige of the universe's first thoughts, its initial dreams. I've awakened with the alignment, sensing the unity you all have forged." Draken, suspicion evident in his stance, asked, "Why now? Why show yourself at this pivotal moment?" The Remnant's voice held a hint of sadness. "The universe is cyclical, always evolving, always returning. With the alignment, old pathways reopen, and ancient memories stir. I am here as both a witness and a guide." Alec, ever the diplomat, inquired, "A guide to what? What path lies ahead?" The Remnant responded, "A path is forgotten, where realms were not distinct but interconnected, where b