Slowly Fading Novels & Stories

He uncorked it without a word, letting the faint, sweet scent drift into the room. “Silvershade,” he said quietly. “Slow, clean, and merciful. That’s what makes it perfect.” He tapped a small amount onto a white dish. It shimmered, then settled, almost vanishing against the surface. “Stir this into food and drinks, and you’ll have weeks. The body fades like memory, gracefully, without suspicion. It will slowly eat up the organs unsuspiciously until everything in the body is broken down. Then the bleeding will erupt, and it will land a final blow.”

The brothers were quick to comfort her, dabbing at her tears with tissues. Seeing how much they cared for her, I did not feel like arguing anymore. I went back to my room in silence, took down the drawing of the four of us that the brothers had made, and cut it up. Then, I found a lighter and watched as the picture turned to ash. Years of feelings disappeared with the flames. … I lay in bed, put in my earplugs, and blocked out the happy noise from outside. I soon drifted off into a deep sleep. It was the first time in a long while that I did not dream about the brothers.

The clock struck midnight as the moon climbed to its zenith. I lay in bed, feeling my wolf spirit slipping away, piece by piece. It was a slow, receding tide, pulling all the life from me. “Aria! Hold on!” My mother’s voice sounded distant, though she gripped my hand tightly. “The healer is almost here!” I tried to answer, to reassure her, but no sound came out. My eyelids felt like lead, the world around me blurring and fading to gray.

She let out a fake smile. "Marry, why are you crying," Faith asks. "Nothing," She tried to hold back her tear but she can't and whimper. " Marry, come here", Faith gives her a nice cuddle. " Now tell me, clear and straight", Faith demands. " Richard, he is in a comma, years ago and Brandon is taking care of his treatment, but he doesn't want me to leave you for one sec, and that is the reason I can't see him,"

A guilty, hesitant expression flickered across Ellis’s face. She denied it, insisting it was all in my imagination. It wasn’t until I played the recording from the hospital that her face fell. Before she could gather her words, Margo’s bodyguards pulled her away. Ellis’s figure gradually vanished. I rubbed my chest, still heavy with tension. Margo offered me a tissue with a comforting smile. “Have some sweets. Whenever I’m down, I eat something sweet, and it always lifts my mood.” Seeing that I didn’t move, Margo scratched her head thoughtfully, making me snort a laugh before finally nodding.

"To him, you're not even as important as that Omega." I wanted to argue, but all that came out of my throat was a hoarse growl. The wolfsbane had already burned through my vocal cords. My consciousness began to fade. With the last trace of wolf spirit left in me, I sent one final message through the mind-link.

Thirty. My hair began to turn white, wrinkles formed around my eyes, but my gaze remained as cold as ice. I never stopped missing her. Every night, I dreamed of her smile when she was eighteen. I dreamed of the afternoon she told me she loved me. I dreamed of the despair in her eyes when she left me. I always woke up to a wet pillow. One night, forty years later, the head researcher from the foundation called. "Alpha, we did it. We've developed a cure for Wolf Spirit Decay."

The coolness seeped right into my bones. "It's fine. Gayle's sick. It's only normal that she's in a bad mood," Florence said understandingly. She picked up an apple by the side and said, "Let me help you peel an apple. You need the vitamins." Before I could answer, she picked up the fruit knife. Cyrus smiled at her and looked on. Her movements were clumsy. The peel came off in uneven strips, taking chunks of flesh with it. Suddenly, she let out a small cry.

Breaking every cycle. But the pain… the pain will take longer to fade.

“What’s happening?” The medic’s expression tightened, her eyes narrowing slightly as she watched. “It shouldn’t be doing this.” The light flickered again, uneven now, breaking apart in small, unstable pulses that lacked any kind of rhythm or control, and whatever sense of calm had settled over the space began to unravel. Then Celeste’s markings started to fade. Slowly at first, almost imperceptible, but unmistakable. The silver lines beneath her skin dimmed, their glow weakening as if something was draining the life out of them instead of restoring it, and the longer it continued, the more obvious it became that this wasn’t healing.