Scutter Novelas e Histórias

”I look like a zombie “She laughed twisting her waist . She check her phone but was disappointed seeing no message from Dylan .She walked to the bathroom dragging herself . “Hey you busy ?”Her manager ,Susan asked peeping in . “Not really .Just scrolling through social media .Dylan have been ignoring me “Rissa replied. Susan signed and sat on the bed beside hers .Yeah ,Susan also understands sign language . One of the reason why they got along pretty quick.She and Rissa are really close and Riss takes her as a best friend telling her about a lot of things .

Every breath felt like swallowing needles. As they neared the bunker, the ground began to teem with movement. Not soldiers, but "Scavengers"; mechanical hounds with multi-lens eyes that scurried over the rocks, hunting for biological heat signatures. "Down!" Lucian shoved Maya into a shallow crevice just as a Scavenger leapt over their heads, its metallic claws clicking against the stone. The machine paused, its head rotating 360 degrees. A beam of violet light swept over the rocks, inches from Maya’s face. She held her breath, her heart drumming against her ribs. The twins suddenly gave a sharp, synchronized kick.

I plunged my hand into the dark, grasping a handle of frozen starlight and bone. As I hauled it out, the air temperature plummeted. The massive, six-foot curve of the Reaper's Scythe manifested, its bone-white steel humming with the screams of a thousand forgotten ghosts. I didn't run. I flickered, activating my Shadow Evasion Skill. The world turned into a gray smear for a microsecond. I reappeared in front of the girl just as the Bao-Feng's shadow eclipsed her. I swung the scythe in a brutal, gravity-defying arc.

To sweat out the fear. I’m clearing a pile of burnt debris near the back door—what’s left of a booth—when I see it. A piece of heavy leather, half-buried in wet ash. It’s a cut. Or part of one. I reach down, dusting off the soot. It’s charred black, but the embroidery is still visible. A skull. A scythe. Reaper colors. One of the attackers must have dropped it, or... I turn it over.

And yet, even as he radiated power, there was something about the way his eyes flicked to me, like he was afraid I’d vanish if he blinked. Then it hit me. A scent drifted across the room, faint but unmistakable, cedarwood and smoke, warm and sharp, seeping into my skin. My heart lurched, my wolf stirring from the fog of pain. Mate. The word brushed against my mind, soft but undeniable. Iris purred. "This handsome man… he’s ours" . I blinked at him, a flicker of something like recognition sparking even through the haze. My lips parted, but no sound came out.

Number 50 was the rude stranger from before his weapon was the most breathtaking of all. Its stats were as follows:- Name: "Soulcutter" ‎Appearance: A dark, curved scythe with an ebony wood staff (6 ft long). Intricate silver etchings (like skeletal vines) crawl along the edge. At the base, a crimson gem glows faintly – said to pulse with every soul "harvested". ‎Stats: ‎- Damage: High melee + possible "soul drain" effect ‎- Range: Long sweep (hits multiple foes)

Camila's face turned pale as she saw the cold and even scornful looks around her. "No! It's not like that..." she stammered, trying to stand up. The door swung open, and Alexander stood there, his voice cold as ice. "Stand up."

Damon rubbed his eyes. He wanted to believe that. It was stupid, really. If this whole thing with talking was just meant to get him to drop his guard, then it was working. Wasn’t he smarter than this? He tried to pull his anger and hate forward, to shield himself from unfortunate emotions—but he was so tired of being angry. He sighed as he turned toward her. "How many witches are in Scanthin ?” “I only know about one,And that is me Scarlett." Scar murmured, holding herself tightly.Damon advanced on her and she backed into the wall, staring up at him with wide eyes. “Why should I believe you?”

Intrigued by this mysterious girl with silver hair and ember eyes, he resolved to get to know her better. Offering her a ride was his way of extending an olive branch, an invitation into his world. At first, Aqua hesitated, politely declining his offer. But as the heavens opened up and rain began to pour down in torrents, her resolve softened, and she accepted. The moment she climbed into his truck, Damon couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement. The old Chevy pickup may have seen better days, but to Damon, it was more than just a vehicle—it was a symbol of his roots, a connection to his past. He drove it with pride, a tribute to his uncle, who had passed away. His uncle was the only one

Feeling eyes on him his head snapped to the presence a little away from him and his eyes widened. A beautiful wolf stood there with sparkling copper eyes that had specs of violet in them. Her fur was the color of dusky caramel just like her skin but she had scars on the body of her wolf as well. Hunter couldn't pull his eyes away and then all of a sudden a zap of current ran down his spine and his hand shot up to his neck where the skin was protruding. She marked him!