Solemn Stranger Novels & Stories

The wooden stairs split in half. Terah wouldn't like the scenery she will saw if she ever open her eyes today. The man tried for the second time, but Zachary already anticipated the act, and before the sword landed on his body, he let out a mighty blow. The man landed on the wall. He shrieked in pain, attempted to stand. Zachary went for the kill. After a couple of minutes, the fight was done—the three of the unknown strangers. Zachary checked the three for any identities but found none. No tattoos. They were merely assassins sent by someone to kill his sleeping mate. Whoever wanted his mate dead was giving an excellent impression. Upon remembering the woman, he rushed to her room only to fi

The blue sky which was covered in black clouds indicated that it would soon rain, but it did not make a woman in a black dress with a black scarf on her body move from there. The soft eyes behind the black glasses perched sweetly on the sharp nose, staring at a new tomb not far from him. Some people have left the burial area but only himself remains and a middle-aged woman is crying on the tombstone of the tomb. Aiora stares coldly at the middle aged woman. Sadly, she saw fake tears streaming down her cheeks which were red from the blush. Aiora admits that pretty good acting.

Eli staggered back half a step, his face white as paper, that faint flicker of hope in his eyes splintering inch by inch, until nothing was left but a boundless, hollow desolation. "From beginning to end, I brought this on myself. I was the one who wronged you." He murmured it low, his voice so faint it nearly dissolved into the air. "In this life, there's not the slightest chance of taking it back." I lingered no longer, and without another glance at his dazed, anguished face, I turned and walked toward the stairs. The gilded box door closed softly behind me, shutting out his gaze completely. We had once walked side by side and loved each other deeply, and in the end, all that was left was

Not the usual gray of morning mists, but the gray Of storm clouds pregnant with lightning. He feels…familiar. I've never seen this man before. Except I have. In the window across the streets. The stranger. “Mrs Selene.” His voice is exactly as it sounds in my head during our texts. Deep, alluring and deliberate. “I believe it's time we meet properly.” He closes the door behind him softly, the click sound echoing like a coffin sealing. “Uhm…You.” I manage to mutter. “Forgive the theatrical entrance. I find first impressions important, and I wanted ours to be…memorable. I am Damien Wolfe. The unknown number, the man at the window, the man who's been watching you bleed.”

There was no other choice but to face the consequences of my own actions. I turned to look at my incoming doom. The man realized we had stopped and slowed down his quick pace. The stranger adjusted his long overcoat and smoothed down his ruffled hair. The man joked, “For a moment I thought you wouldn’t turn back.” “Well?” I questioned, raising my eyebrows. “Forgive me,” drawled the stranger. “I’m Soren Hawthorne, you might have heard of me?” “Your name doesn’t ring any bells.” Hawthorne laughed, “Perhaps that’s for the best. In the habit of making a good first impression, might I know your name and the name of the little lady beside you?”

he groaned as my walls clenched on his digits, but he kept the fast pace. His deep raspy voice heightened the feeling and I trembled as the waves of heat and light washed over me. His voice lingered in my mind. I couldn’t think straight but I was sure this was not because of the alcohol. I was captivated by him, craving only him. The stranger watched me as he removed his fingers and I arched my back from the sensation. He looked at me like I was a puzzle he wanted to complete, yet wanted me broken at the same time.

Gravel crunches beneath the tires as we turn onto a narrower path, trees closing in on both sides. Panic claws its way up my chest. “This isn’t the way home,” I whisper. “No,” he agrees calmly. “It isn’t.” The car stops. The forest presses close, shadows tangled and thick. The stranger kills the engine, leaving only silence. He turns to me fully for the first time. His eyes, sharp and gleaming in the dark, lock onto mine. “Everything you thought you knew about your life,” he says slowly, deliberately, “is about to change. Just wait. Be patient. Patience, Lisa, patience.”

The stranger finished his sentence. "...when nobody remembers them." Suddenly— A slow clap echoed across the hall. One... Two... Three. The sound came from the highest platform overlooking the endless candles. A lone figure sat upon a throne carved entirely from ancient books. His face remained hidden beneath a smooth white mask. Unlike every mask Adrian had seen before... This one had no eyes. No mouth. Nothing. Only perfect white stone. The stranger lowered his head. "He has arrived." Adrian stared upward. "Is he..."

“Who are you, and what do you mean by ‘it’s too late’?” The stranger tilted their head slightly, as though assessing whether to answer. Their voice, calm but layered with authority, broke the tense silence. “My name is Callan. I am… a steward of sorts, tasked with preventing catastrophic consequences. And you,” they said, their glowing eyes locking onto Emma, “are dangerously close to unleashing something far beyond your understanding.” Jamie snorted, though his nervousness was evident. “Great. Another cryptic guardian type. Just what we needed.”

“Sentenced to hang just a few hours hence, stranger. He’s not going anywhere but hell. You best turn around.” “I see.” The man said. “I heard tell it was two days not mere hours. Care to amend your timeframe?” The first deputy swallowed hard, “I think it’s time you turned around and left, stranger. We don’t want the paperwork that comes with us having to shoot you dead where you stand.” The stranger took a step inside the sheriff’s office, “Sacrificium maleformium disanctium.” “Disanctium! That’s the word I couldn’t get right.” Cain said.